Adalia paused again and glanced at the tip of her cigarette before extinguishing it in the glass ashtray on the table. ‘Because of some unsavoury story involving gypsies, Don Salvador could not marry your mother immediately. So, not content to have wrecked my aunt’s life, she then set about seducing my father, Don Felipe, whom she literally dumped on the night he was going to announce their engagement at a party in her honour. She ran off to meet Don Salvador and they were literally caught red-handed in the throes of passion at the bottom of the garden minutes before my father was to make his announcement.’
Luz, who had sat quietly during this venomous tirade, released the breath she had been holding. Now she really was seething, though she tried to seem cool. Her deep sapphire-blue eyes turned to silver, glittering dangerously.
‘How dare you come into my house and accuse my parents of such things! This is nothing but vicious lies designed to smear their good name. I’m surprised you would stoop so low, even if your family holds a grudge against my mother.’
Adalia’s eyes narrowed. ‘My dear, I am not inventing anything,’ she said silkily. ‘This story is common knowledge. At the time it made the rounds of Spanish drawing rooms for months.’ Her voice dripped with scorn. ‘There’s nothing like a good scandal to entertain society.’ She paused and lit another cigarette. ‘If you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask your parents?’
Aghast, Luz tried her hardest to appear unruffled although she wasn’t completely successful. Two bright spots had appeared on her cheeks. ‘I fail to see why you’re bringing up this unpleasant piece of calumny now,’ she quietly observed.
Adalia laughed. ‘Please, don’t put on that naïve, innocent-little-woman look for me! Andrés may be gullible enough to be fooled by it, but I’m not. I see women like you drifting in and out of my brother’s bed every day.’
Taking this unpleasant blow on the chin, Luz drew in a deep breath, all the while battling with the urge to let loose her rage. Allowing her emotions to run wild only meant Adalia would win and so she wasn’t about to do that. ‘I don’t see what my personal life has to do with you,’ she declared evenly.
Arctic eyes, cutting like ice picks, settled on her face. ‘Andrés and I were supposed to be engaged almost a year ago,’ Adalia explained. ‘My father died unexpectedly and we had to postpone our engagement. I think my brother Lorenzo must have mentioned this to you when you came to La Fortaleza last month.’ Her icy gaze did not waver.
‘I know that you are Andrés’ mistress, the whole of Andalucía is talking about your affair. Like Lorenzo, Andrés has had a string of women like you. He’s a virile man and it’s perfectly normal, of course – a man like him needs to sow his wild oats before he settles down, I understand. Every well-bred Spanish woman accepts that sort of thing during the courting years. But the liaison he’s having with you is more flagrant. You’re flaunting yourselves like common gypsies and it’s harming his reputation, and mine.’ She arched an imperious eyebrow.
‘On that note, as you probably know, it is Andrés’ birthday this weekend and I’m throwing a party for him at El Ecrin. It has been arranged for months, long before you came on the scene, and I would rather you didn’t embarrass us all by turning up.’
For a few moments Luz couldn’t speak, so flabbergasted was she by such virulent animosity. Trying to control the tremor in her voice, she kept her tone low, hoping to sound cool and detached. ‘I think I’ve heard enough already. I’m not prepared to discuss the ties that bind Andrés and me together. I’m afraid you have exceeded your welcome here and I would be grateful if you left now.’
But Adalia had not finished; the death blow was still to come. ‘Don’t kid yourself, darling. Andrés might be the modern international businessman but he’s also deeply wedded to the traditions and customs of our country. He would never marry a woman who is not a virgin on her wedding night.’ She continued her taunts relentlessly, her tone rising a fraction.
‘La honra is very important to him. Have you never heard of la honra? No, I suppose not – how would you?’ she spat out scornfully. And with that, Adalia got up, slung her bag over her shoulder and prepared to leave. Looking her rival up and down, she sneered before dropping the final bombshell: ‘After all, there’s a saying in Spanish, como madre tanto hija, like mother like daughter. And your mother is one of the biggest tramps there is!’
At this, Luz gasped as if she had been struck. The anger gradually welling up in her since the elegant socialite had arrived now reached its peak. In a paroxysm of rage she leapt from her chair. The slap she administered to Adalia echoed in the empty room with a resonance that equalled the one her opponent dealt her almost in the same breath. Then, without turning a hair, as if nothing had happened Adalia calmly straightened her suit.
‘Unfortunately,’ she hissed haughtily, ‘when dealing with the gutter one must sometimes dirty one’s hands.’ As she marched to the door of the summerhouse, her head held high, she spat, ‘Don’t bother to show me out, I know the way.’
There was a slight ringing in Luz’s ears. For a long while a kind of vertigo stole over her senses and she closed her eyes, unable to think clearly. What was all this mud Adalia had churned up? Was any of it true? Was this the reason her parents had been so cagey about the past and suspicious of gypsies?
And what about the present? Andrés … had it all been a pretence, some sort of sick game he had been playing in which she had been the victim? She knew that her reckless, wanton behaviour had hurtled her down a dangerous path and now perhaps she would have to pay for it. Why hadn’t she listened to her head and controlled her visceral urges? It would have been so much simpler had she questioned Andrés about his relationship with Adalia. It seemed she had discovered the truth about what had been bothering him. Luz opened her eyes, dark now with pain and shock. Her dream, her beautiful love, her whole world trembled precariously beneath her feet.
She would confront her parents immediately and Andrés tomorrow.
* * *
Luz arrived at El Pavón in the early evening to find that her parents had gone away to Granada for a week. Her nerves raw and quivering, she went straight upstairs to her bedroom to lick her wounds in private. With her parents away the whole place was hushed. El Pavón, an austere house at the best of times, seemed to her even more lugubrious than usual. The dark corridors that had once unnerved her mother had pretty much the same effect on Luz.
Agustina had been advised of Luz’s arrival by Sarita, the maid – it was not Luz’s habit to turn up without notice, especially when she had been away for a long time. She hadn’t been back to El Pavón since the masked ball and now, when the housekeeper entered Luz’s room, she was unusually tight-lipped, an expression that quickly softened when she saw how unhappy the young woman looked. Usually so open and bubbly, this evening she had no enthusiastic welcome for the beloved old servant.
‘You’re as pale as a spectre,’ Agustina told her. ‘Look at those shadows under your eyes. What have you been up to, child?’
Luz got off her bed and wandered out on to the veranda without answering. She was shivering, despite the balmy night. At this hour the rays of the dying sun only half illuminated the trees and drew lines over the grass, giving grotesque effects of light and shade and mysterious corners full of soft tones and shifting colours. Such a peaceful view, but such chaotic thoughts!
Agustina followed Luz, the frown between her brows deepening by the second as she noticed the young woman’s withdrawn manner and the secretive look in her eyes.
‘What is upsetting you? You know you can talk to me,’ the old retainer said in a low, coaxing tone.
Instinctively, Luz’s hand shot to her throat as she tried her best to suppress the choked-up feeling that was preventing her from answering. Her eyes welled with the tears she had been holding back since Adalia’s visit. Muttering the worst curse she could think of, she then turned to the duenna, whose eyes had widened in surprise.
‘Chickens always come ho
me to roost, don’t they, Agustina?’
‘What are we talking about here?’ the old woman asked, guardedly.
Luz hesitated. Should she unburden herself to Agustina? She had no doubt the old housekeeper knew all the answers: after all, she had been in service at El Pavón long before the events Adalia had been talking about and had been the trusted confidante not only of Doña María Dolores, her great grandmother, but also of Alexandra. She gazed blindly out into the penumbras of the garden, biting thoughtfully on her bottom lip.
A warm breeze ruffled her hair. She passed her fingertips through it, pondering. Andrés was returning tomorrow; she needed to know today. If Adalia had fabricated the story about Luz’s parents, then there was a good chance she had also lied about her involvement with Andrés. Women often mistook their dreams for reality. Similarly, had Luz herself been a victim? Panic struck her as the idea crept into her mind, even as she did her best to fight it.
She sighed. ‘I wish I could see into the future,’ she whispered, and then, covering her face with her hands, she burst into tears.
Agustina waited tactfully for the sobbing to cease. Eventually Luz relaxed enough to pour out her heart to the trusted retainer, including what had happened on Adalia’s visit.
‘I’ve got to open up to someone or I’ll go crazy,’ she murmured. ‘You have been the wise confidante of our family for years.’ A spasm of emotion passed over her face. ‘Please be frank with me, Agustina. It isn’t just idle curiosity on my part, it’s important. I wouldn’t go rummaging in my parents’ past if I wasn’t feeling so desperate.’
The housekeeper nodded and sighed. It appeared that the time for frankness had come. ‘You know, Luz, when a bird flies blind, it imagines it is flying straight, though, to the onlooker, it is flying to disaster. In your parents’ case, an unhappy sequence of events led to much misunderstanding and pain.’
‘Is it true that my father was engaged to Doña Isabel Herrera and that my mother stole him from her?’
‘Yes, your father was indeed engaged to Doña Isabel but that was long before your mother came to El Pavón. A few months before their wedding, Don Salvador had an accident and doctors said he would never walk again. In no time Doña Isabel had found herself a new, titled and rich suitor, much older than herself, who died shortly after the wedding. She didn’t even have the decency to break off her engagement officially before her marriage to the Marquis de Aguila was announced in the press. Your mother had nothing to do with all that, she had not yet come to Spain.’
Good, that was one issue out of the way. Adalia had lied and Luz’s heart sang with joy. ‘And is it true that my mother was about to get engaged to Doña Isabel’s brother when she was caught misbehaving with my father, minutes before the engagement was announced?’
Agustina winced slightly, remembering the turbulence of those far-off days. ‘We come back to the bird that flies blind. Your mother got caught up in a situation where her youth, her naïvety and maybe a lack of self-preservation made her overlook certain dangers. She was also a young Englishwoman used to different ways.
‘Don Felipe was a notorious womanizer: handsome, charming and manipulative. He offered his friendship and she accepted it quite innocently. She walked into his trap, like prey into a spider’s web, and she did not know how to escape once she was entangled in it. Although she never accepted his proposal, she did not turn him down immediately either because she did not want to jeopardize the important corrida he was preparing for. If he had had an accident in the ring, she would never have been able to forgive herself. Anyway, she was postponing her answer until after the bullfight. Unfortunately, events overtook her. If anything, your mother was only guilty of a small error in judgement. Of course, tongues wagged at the time, but we all know what society is like at the least sniff of a scandal.’
‘Since my father and mother loved each other so passionately, why did they not marry immediately? I was always told that it was my great grandmother’s dearest wish.’ Luz paused and quickly glanced up at the old woman whose serene face was not giving anything away. So she pushed a little further. ‘Adalia mentioned an unsavoury story with gypsies …’
At this, Agustina shifted uncomfortably in her chair and Luz sensed a certain reluctance; clearly she was not keen to take the lid off what must be a Pandora’s box.
‘Please, Agustina, I need to know!’ Luz persisted. ‘I’ve met Paquita the gypsy several times. She’s spoken to me in riddles that I don’t understand. Maybe if you told me what happened in the past I would be able to make sense of her strange words.’
She then told the housekeeper more about Leandro and Andrés and their uncanny resemblance, without mentioning the extent to which she had been involved with the gypsy, though she could tell by looking at Agustina that the duenna doubted Luz was telling her the whole truth where he was concerned. She didn’t seem comfortable with what she was hearing; her dark eyes, more serious than Luz had ever seen them, were fixed on the young woman’s face. Luz ran her fingers impatiently through her hair and searched Agustina’s troubled gaze once more.
‘Is it as bad as all that, that you can’t bring yourself to tell me what happened so many years ago?’
The duenna was quiet for a moment more and then said slowly: ‘Sometimes the truth takes on an ugly face if misinterpreted. After all, it is not my secret that I will be divulging. I would be betraying a confidence.’ She shook her head. ‘It goes against the grain.’
But Luz was determined to get to the bottom of all this mystery. Deep down, she was sure that many answers to her present uncertainties lay in a convoluted past. She scowled. ‘I’m sure that my parents would forgive what you see as an indiscretion and I see as a necessary cleaning away of cobwebs, ones which are affecting my life,’ she retorted. ‘Because of my ignorance of the facts, I couldn’t defend myself properly against Adalia’s unpleasant accusations today. It’s a terrible position to be in, can’t you see? For goodness sake, Agustina, let me have the truth!’
Agustina closed her eyes in resignation. ‘As I mentioned earlier, your father had a bad accident that left him paralysed from the waist downwards. The general prognosis was that he would never walk again. The Duquesa was heartbroken. Specialists were brought over at great expense from all over the world but the opinion remained unanimous. Doña María Dolores had lost hope.’
There was a pause, during which Agustina drew breath. She shifted in her seat and folded her hands in her lap, clearly uncomfortable, before continuing. ‘One November morning – I will never forget it because it was one of those rare overcast days – a gypsywoman, looking like a fox stealing into the henhouse, came to the front door at El Pavón and asked to speak to the Duquesa. José, who at the time was the major-domo, tried to turn her away, but she whined and cajoled, even invoked the Blessed Madonna, insisting her daughter Marujita possessed the gracia de mano, the power to heal. She had come to offer her services to the young Count and would not be turned away until she had spoken to the Duquesa. At this point Her Grace was prepared to try anything and she allowed Consuelo and her daughter the chance to cure your father.’
Agustina paused. Luz could see that she found dredging up those unhappy memories difficult and thoroughly distasteful. A shadow passed over the servant’s usually serene face.
‘At the time Don Salvador was miserable and vulnerable. Marujita was a real beauty. At eighteen, she was already a lumiasca, a harlot, well informed in the ways of the world and of men, having sold herself since her early teens. She took advantage of your father’s defenceless situation and soon possessed his naked soul. Miraculously, she did seem to aid in his physical recovery and, feeling that he owed his life to Marujita, he found himself truly enslaved. Only the great love he avowed for your mother cured him of that evil creature.’ Agustina sighed.
‘It was a sordid affair and I will spare you the ugly details, but for Marujita it ended badly. Months after she left El Pavón she helped her brother, El Mono, the monkey, steal the
Duquesa’s jewels but Don Salvador caught them before they could escape. In the struggle your father was knifed, the police were called and Marujita and her brother were both sentenced to a few years’ imprisonment. El Mono died of pneumonia before his time was up. As for Marujita, we never heard of her again.’
Luz stared at Agustina, trying to take in all this information that was completely new to her. ‘No wonder Mamá gets so nervous whenever the subject of gypsies crops up. Papá is much cooler about it.’ Her expression then changed and she huffed irritably.
‘I don’t understand why they made such an issue about keeping this from me all those years. I was bound to find out some day. Things like these don’t get buried forever, especially if they made a bit of a rumpus at the time. On the contrary, brushed under the carpet they just get magnified beyond belief. Wouldn’t it have been simpler to talk about them frankly? Why complicate life? I might have learnt a thing or two in the past and not been at such a loss today,’ she said resentfully.
Agustina’s answer was, as usual, gentle and wise. ‘Knowing your parents as I do, I’m sure they had good reasons for acting as they did. Gypsies have long memories, it’s said that they never forget. Who knows what your parents think they are protecting you from?’
‘But it still isn’t clear why they delayed getting married for so long. It seems to me unbelievably foolish,’ said Luz, frowning.
‘Don’t be so quick to judge,’ Agustina remonstrated crossly. ‘It’s because of the gypsies and their venganza de Calés culture, that’s why. Revenge and the gypsies go hand in hand. Even though your parents fell in love at first sight, your father did not venture to court your mother while she was in Spain. For many months he fought his love for her in order to protect her. For an onlooker, one who could read between the lines, there was no doubt he loved her to distraction. But put yourself in your mother’s shoes: what was she supposed to think? She was still very innocent for her age, with little knowledge of what makes a man tick. The future must have been one gigantic question mark. A very traumatic experience, my child! Thankfully their lucky star was looking over them. As it turned out, the fairy-tale romance had a happy ending. However, it could well have ended in disaster.’
Masquerade Page 37
