He might find her note in a day or two, give or take a decade.
She had no way of knowing what he was likely to wear next. Perhaps inside the toe of a shoe? No, there were at least fifteen pairs of shoes. Which would he wear? She had to admit she had not been looking at his feet.
Suddenly a thought occurred to her. Under his pillow? No, there were voices in his room, and she had to do this now. The coronation was this afternoon, and she had to get out of Spain while she still had the resolve.
Ah, there it is. The perfect place.
The crown.
Placed in the center of the wardrobe, as if to symbolize the momentous job before him, was a crown of gold encrusted with precious stones.
The sight before her filled her with a sense of awe. The sovereign’s crown featured half arches in gold and pearls resting on eight plates bearing the emblems of the kingdom in red and green emeralds. Atop the crown was a gold cross against a blue background of sapphires. He would be wearing that crown hours from now at the coronation.
I will place my sealed note inside the crown.
Turning, she caught her reflection in a large, full-size mirror. She was disgusted by what she saw. She looked so sweet. Deceptively so. And yet so modern. A modern girl in charge of her own destiny.
An image which had been so pleasing to her only hours before was suddenly repulsive. She studied the mirror desperately for the reason for her disgust and found none. Her fashionable suit consisted of a full, wide skirt in pleated blue linen and a long ivory lace coat, cinched at the waist. The coat’s wide cape collar, pockets, and cuffs were in the blue linen as well. Lace flowed from the cuffs and at the neckline of her ivory cotton blouse, held in place by a blue cameo.
An angel in disguise. Her hand shaking, she situated the note, attempting to avoid touching anything but the rim of the crown, though she did not know why. Her errand finalized, she turned toward her room with a heavy heart.
Have I gone mad? She covered her face with her hands as she realized the strange direction of her thoughts. Had her fear of her love for this man, of her life with this man, driven her to this ridiculous brink?
In heaven’s name! She needed to direct her own life. It was that simple! And why shouldn’t she? He was certainly directing his life, as all men were allowed to do.
Why did it suddenly feel so wrong? She had always lived by this code.
Because my heart is not in it. She benefited no one—especially not herself—if she made a choice against her own heart.
Above all, she would follow her heart.
But her heart was intertwined with music—and now with Alejandro. And she could only have one of the two. She had to choose music. It was her destiny. She had to…
She turned and looked at the crown again as if mesmerized by a…hat.
As she forced herself to take another step, she heard raised voices. She moved to return to her rooms when a note of anguish in one of the men’s voices stopped her sharply in her tracks. She inched closer to the bedroom suite.
She was closest to the bedroom while the sitting area, where the men were, was clearly around the corner. From where she stood, she had a clear view of the bedroom but not the sitting room, only an occasional reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. Visible to her was a stone fireplace, a wing-backed couch in a red-rust shade, and a bowler hat resting on a table.
In her nervousness her eyes scanned the bedroom. She glanced around the bedroom. Overall, there was not much color in the room, which was unusual for the palace. Heavy stone pillars seemed to support the ceiling, which was a rich blend of inlaid wood and stone. The bed was solid walnut. Stained-glass windows allowed light in through gold and blue prisms.
Not surprisingly, it was masculine in appearance and pleasing. Her bedroom, on the other hand, had been designed by a man who had an odd view of femininity and who clearly lived to torture women. She was beginning to think they all did.
“Let us look at this calmly.” Good, a voice she recognized, Raimundo Fernández-Villaverde, the finance minister. But who was the excited voice? She had an exceptional memory for voices, that being her profession.
She must think. Who was it? Ah, yes, the minister of war, Sánchez de Montojo. She knew him to be soliciting Alejandro for increased funds for the army. She calmed her thoughts and strove to hear them.
“But, Your Majesty,” Sánchez de Montojo exclaimed, “we have uncovered a plot on your life!” Her heart pounded even faster in her chest. She swallowed hard as the implications of his words hit her.
“That does not surprise me,” Alejandro replied without emotion.
“You must take this seriously, Your Majesty!”
Overwrought by the news, she inched around and caught a glimpse of Alejandro in the mirror before pulling back out of sight. She must be careful! He had been staring straight at the speaker, his expression calm but fiercely intent. His eyes had their typical piercing expression, and his eyebrows were drawn. She had seen that expression before, and she knew that they were wasting their breath.
He had made up his mind, and there would be no wavering from his course.
But what is his course? She had to find out. Someone was trying to kill him!
“Indeed I do, Sánchez,” Alejandro replied languorously. “But that does not mean I will increase the army by 28,000 men.”
“Your Majesty, you must believe me. I am concerned for your safety.” Sanchez was small and lean, his voice was rising, and she could hear him pacing the floor anxiously.
“I know that you are, my dear Sanchez. That is why I chose you as minister of war. And you will continue to advise me. But I will make my decisions out of reason not out of fear,” Alejandro replied with finality.
“If you are not concerned for your personal safety, Your Majesty,” Sánchez de Montojo replied with a sense of urgency, “then think of España.”
“I rarely think of anything else, I assure you, Sánchez.” Nicolette could hear the amusement in Alejandro’s voice, though almost imperceptible. “Neither will I make decisions for my countrymen out of self-preservation.”
She saw him turn on Sánchez de Montojo in her mind’s eye. “And, let me remind you, my dear Sánchez, that it was the government’s unrelenting insistence on military action which led to the Great Disaster and which has left us with fully one-half of Spain’s budgetary revenue being swallowed up by interest payments on the national debt.”
“A percentage which is growing,” Villaverde interjected quietly. She could picture Señor Villaverde speaking the words in perfect calm as he sat back and observed. He was a portly man with a full head of hair and a very long moustache, which was unmistakably curled.
“If España is not stabilized, I fear that the fascists will overtake the country,” Sánchez de Montojo persisted emphatically. “I ask only for an increase from 144 million pesetas to 174 million for the army.”
“You are not going to stabilize España by further inciting a civil war and killing her own people.” Alejandro’s voice grew harsh. “That was my father’s method, and it is not mine. It will not happen as long as I draw breath.”
Which may not be that much longer. Nicolette could hear the response as if it had been spoken. She closed her eyes momentarily as her whole body shivered to think she had been offered the privilege of living in this man’s presence and of receiving his love. That he had somehow given his love to her.
“No, in the face of fear, one must hold to one’s principles,” Alejandro concluded. “It is the only way. To give in ensures defeat.” She stole another glance and saw him seating himself in the couch, his demeanor unruffled despite the news of the threat to his life.
“You are idealizing a very real threat, Your Majesty.”
“Believe me, Sánchez, I understand that the stabilization of the country and the uniting of the different regions is of the utmost importance. It is frustrating beyond measure. We have so many problems which need to be addressed—education, agriculture
, technology and infrastructure, defense—and yet we must utilize our resources on simply coming together as one people. Something which should be a given. Clearly I must help our people to understand. Once we are one people and we share a vision, anything is possible for us. This is always the greatest hurdle.”
“I’d say that, first and foremost, we must save España from bankruptcy,” emphasized Villaverde. “We must initiate a tax on personal incomes and on industrial profits.”
“Are you crazy?” shouted an inflamed Sánchez de Montojo. “That’s all you need to start a national riot!”
“It must be done,” replied Villaverde calmly. “If we have no finances, we can do nothing. And we must pay off our national debt so that it does not absorb our entire treasury.”
Nicolette put her hand to her throat and closed her eyes. Why were they talking about the national debt? There was a threat to Alejandro’s life and they were speaking of national debt. What was being done to protect him? What advances had they made in discovering the culprits? Why was nothing said about this?
“España is far behind in industrialization, literacy is low, the country is poor, the navy destroyed. We are at the mercy of any invader, the national mood is at an all-time low, and you propose taxation. Brilliant,” Sánchez de Montojo remarked.
“Villaverde is right,” Alejandro pronounced, unmoved. “We must balance the budget.”
“But Your Majesty…”
“I will see if I cannot renegotiate the terms of our loans. I have been known to be persuasive. And we must rebuild our navy.”
“Our navy? But the army should be the priority…”
“After España’s defeat by the United States, it would be throwing money after a losing team to no purpose,” Villaverde stated.
“España lost not only her colonies but also her navy,” Alejandro remarked in low tones.
“I did not think you to be a strong supporter of the military, Your Highness,” Sánchez de Montojo remarked rhetorically with disdain in his voice.
“I have proven my loyalties. I merely do not wish to initiate wars we cannot win. Nor to kill my own people. And yet, it is important to have a strong defense in order to avoid war. I expected you would know this, Sánchez.”
“Of course,” Sánchez replied indignantly.
“And increasing the navy will stimulate Spain’s young coal, steel, and shipbuilding industries.” His voice grew resolute. “Gentlemen, I have a plan to put the proposal out to bids. The winner, most likely a German or British company, must be based on the Peninsula. And the winning company must provide Spanish manufacturers with the most current designs and patents for ships and weaponry. In this manner we can promote Spanish industry, allow for technology transfer, and encourage scientific research all the while rebuilding our navy. And we must educate our people. Otherwise, we will continue to fall further and further behind while becoming poorer.”
“And what of agriculture?” Villaverde asked. “Shall we abandon agriculture in favor of industry?”
“Let us attend to everything,” grumbled Sánchez de Montojo. “Less for the army, and we shall all die in the end anyway. But we shall have plenty to eat.”
“Growing one’s own food is the most important defense tactic available to a country,” stated Alejandro. “One should never allow one’s food to be grown on foreign shores. A country must always be able to feed Herself. Agricultural subsidies are pesetas compared to what the army requires to sustain itself and are far more important to national security.”
“And the people will surely revolt if they are hungry,” agreed Villaverde.
“Food more important than the army? Surely, Your Majesty, you don’t mean…?” Sánchez stuttered.
“For a military man”—Alejandro sighed—“you sometimes appear to know very little about military strategies, Sánchez.”
Chapter Forty
No fear of death
Terrorizes me from acting as a man
To wander the road of virtue
Open the doors of terror to me
I happily dare to take the bold course
—Amadeus Wolfgang Mozart, The Magic Flute
She waited until she heard Villaverde and Sánchez leave, and then she walked into his room. He was seated at his chair, and he looked up, jumping to his feet and reaching for his sword in the same instant. She opened her eyes wide. His reactions were excellent. Had she been any closer…
“Nicolette,” he murmured, searching her eyes. In an instant a smile crossed his face, and he moved toward her. His hair was brushed back, emphasizing his strong facial features. He had clearly been the recipient of a haircut, but dark waves still formed along the nape of his neck. “Have you come to answer me? I did not ask you properly, but let me assure you that it is the greatest wish of my heart to make you my queen.”
Her heart warmed to see him even as she felt it would burst. As he stood there with his muscular build half-poised for battle, wearing a herringbone tweed Norfolk jacket and matching pants in a deep-green and brown, he looked very much the sportsman.
Involuntarily, she shook her head, and she watched his expression plunge as he dropped his strong arms to his sides, letting the sword fall to the ground without a glance. She could tell that he was crushed, but he merely nodded in acceptance.
“Alejandro, listen. You don’t understand.” She moved toward him.
* * * *
He felt the life draining out of him. If she were not with him, he had no life. It was the outcome he had expected, but there must have been some glimmer of hope, because he suddenly felt as if he could not stand.
“Of course, you could have sung for our guests at the royal palace. But that is not the same as singing professionally and working with the finest composers of the day. I see that now.” He strove to balance himself and managed to find his voice. “There is the Teatro Real behind the palace, quite a fine opera house, but La Scala in Italy is the most famous opera house in the world.”
“I have always dreamed of singing at La Scala.”
“Did you ever think, my love, that you might stay in Italy for half the year and then return to España? I could vacation several weeks out of the year in Italy.” Why was he rambling? All hope was gone from his life, and suddenly he was a blithering idiot. He forced a smile.
“I have never believed in doing anything halfway.”
“I am well aware that being on the professional circuit is not the same as singing for royal assemblies, private parties, and world courts.”
“No, not at all the same,” she agreed.
“Being king is a full-time job as well, requiring everything I have to give. I should have known.” He turned away from her for a moment.
“No, Alejandro, you don’t understand.” She took her hand and placed it against his cheek. “You have never understood me.”
That was the bloody truth.
“What is it, mi cielito?” he asked. He only had these next few days with her. Whatever it was, he would make it right.
“You have always second-guessed me from the moment of our meeting, Alejandro, assuming that you understood my character. You never have. When will you learn to ask me what I am about instead of telling me?”
“I am sorry, mi vida. Please forgive me. What do you wish to tell me?” He searched her face.
“I only wish to be your wife, Alejandro,” she whispered, her expression joyful. “But I will be your queen as well to the best of my ability.”
“You will marry me?” The king of Spain fell to his knees and took both her hands, kissing them.
“I do not know how long I will have with you, Alejandro. Maybe a day, maybe forty years.” She nodded, her eyes glistening. “But I cannot bear to be apart from you, to not enjoy whatever time life might grant me. I have never refused a gift from the heavens, and I won’t start now. I will live every day to the fullest, and I will live it with you, the most amazing man I have ever known.”
He looked up at her, unab
le to believe her words, feeling his heart might burst from joy. He returned to his feet, taking her into his arms and kissing her with all the amour he felt, holding her tightly against his body, afraid to let her go. After he had thoroughly kissed her, giving her some inkling of what was yet to come, he pulled her to sit beside him on the couch, taking her hands in his.
Why am I fooling myself? Suddenly his heart fell. If she were not happy, it would slowly destroy him, and she could never be happy without her singing career.
“And what about your operatic dreams, Nicolette? You must pursue them. You will sing at La Scala, I will join you there for some weeks, and then we will return home to España. You have worked all your life for this end. There can be no other solution.” He forced a smile. Six months of heaven out of the year was far more than he had ever hoped for.
“You are yet again telling me what I need, Your Majesty. Which I am very well able to ascertain for myself.” She laughed, her glistening coal-black hair falling loose around her shoulders and her aquamarine eyes almost swallowing him whole.
“Of course you are. But I don’t understand how…”
“It has never been about the fame for me. You never understood that, Alejandro. It has been about giving to my audience, sharing something of the divine. Being in the divine. I simply needed an audience to meet those ends.”
“Yes, of course you do,” he murmured.
“I will have a different audience in Spain with different needs but an audience nonetheless. I will not draw on the same talents as queen. I will have to learn once again what the audience needs from me and what it is within my power to give. You will help to teach me our purpose, and we will work toward that goal together.”
“The Teatro Real is a magnificent opera house,” Alejandro considered. “We will import the world’s finest opera singers, and España shall build a name for herself.”
“No, I will never sing for the public again.” She shook her head. But rather than sadness, there was a light in her eyes, and her entire expression glowed.
The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 35
