But she should' resent it. He closed his eyes for a moment. I do. He opened his eyes again and they were as sharp as before. I resent it' for her' and for me' . But I did not ask you here to tell you my regrets' and my sorrows' I called you here to ask you ' about you.
Alex's heart pounded and he decided to take the bull by the horns. May I ask you how you know of me? Had he known all along? Did he have her followed by servants as a routine?
I received' a letter.
Alex felt a strange flame within him begin to glow. May I ask from whom?
I do not' know.
It was anonymous?
John Henry nodded. It told me only' that' you and ' He didn't seem to want to say her name in Alex's presence, it was enough that they sat here together, speaking the truth. That you and she had been involved for' almost a year. He began to cough softly, and Alex worried, but John Henry waved his hand to indicate that all was well, and a moment later he went on. It gave me your address and telephone number, explained that you' are' an attorney' and it said quite clearly' that I would be wise' to put a stop to this. He looked at Alex with curiosity. Why is that so? Was the letter' from your wife? He seemed disturbed, but Alex shook his head.
I don't have a wife. I've been divorced for several years.
Is she' still' jealous? He fought to go on.
No. I believe the letter you received was from my sister. She's a politician. A congresswoman, in fact. And she is a dreadful, selfish, evil woman. She thinks that if any word of this my er our involvement ever leaked out it would damage her politically, because of the scandal.
She is probably' right. John Henry nodded his head. But does anyone know? He found that hard to believe. Raphaella would always above all be discreet.
No. Alex was adamant. No one. Only my niece, and she adores Raphaella and is very able to keep our secret.
Is she a small child? John Henry seemed to smile.
She is seventeen and she is the daughter of that same sister. In recent months Amanda, my niece, has been staying with me. She was injured on Thanksgiving Day and while her mother has been most unkind to her, your er Raphaella he decided to go ahead and say it has been wonderful to her. His eyes lit with warmth as he said the words, and John Henry smiled again.
She would be wonderful ' in a case like that. She is a most ' unusual ' person. On that they both agreed, and then his face grew sad. She should have had ' children. And then, Perhaps ' one day ' she will. Alex said nothing. At last John Henry went on. So, you think it is ' your sister.
I do. Did she threaten you in any way in the letter?
No. He looked shocked. She only relied' on' my' ability to put a stop' to it. He looked suddenly amused and waved at his useless limbs beneath the sheets. What confidence to have' in a very old man. But he didn't seem so old in spirit as his eyes met Alex's. Tell me, how' may I ask' how did it begin?
We met on a plane, last year. No, that's not true. Alex frowned and closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the first time he had seen her on the stairs. I saw her one night' sitting on the steps, looking out at the bay. He realized that he didn't want to tell John Henry she'd been crying. I thought she was incredibly beautiful, but that was all. I never expected to see her again.
But you did? John Henry looked intrigued.
Yes, on the plane I mentioned. I glimpsed her in the airport and she disappeared.
John Henry smiled at him benignly. You must' be a romantic.
Alex blushed slightly, with a sheepish smile. I am.
So is she. He spoke as her father, and he didn't offer the information that he had been a romantic too. And then?
We spoke. I mentioned my mother. She was reading one of her books.
Your mother' writes? His interest seemed to grow.
Charlotte Brandon.
Most' impressive' .I read some of her early' books' I would have liked to meet her. Alex would have liked to tell him that he would, but they both knew that that would not happen. And your sister is ' a congresswoman' . Quite a group. He smiled benevolently at Alex and waited for the rest.
I invited her to lunch with my mother in New York and He faltered for only the fraction of a second. I didn't know who she was then. My mother told me after lunch.
She knew?
She recognized her.
I'm ' surprised' . Few people know her' .I have kept her well hidden from ' the press. Alex nodded. She had not' told you' herself?
No. The next time I saw her, she told me only that she was married and could not get involved. John Henry nodded, seemingly pleased. She was very definite, and I'm afraid that I I pressed her.
Why? John Henry's voice was suddenly harsh in the still room.
I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. I' as you said, I'm a romantic. I was in love with her.
So soon? He looked skeptical, but Alex held firm.
Yes. He took a deep breath. It was difficult to be telling it all to John Henry. And why? Why did the old man want to know it all? I saw her again, and I believed she was drawn to me too. It was none of his business that they had gone to bed in New York. They had a right to their privacy too. She was not only his, but Alex's as well. We flew back to San Francisco on the same plane, but I only saw her once more here. She came to tell me that she couldn't see me again. She didn't want to be unfaithful to you.
John Henry looked stunned. She is an' amazing' woman. Alex clearly agreed. And then? You pressed her again? It was not an accusation, only a question.
No. I left her alone. She called me two months later. And I think we had both been equally unhappy.
It began then? Alex nodded. I see. And how long has that been?
Almost eight months.
John Henry nodded slowly. I used' to wish' that she would find someone. She's been so lonely' and I can do nothing' about it. After a time I stopped thinking' about it' . She seemed so set in living her life' like this. He looked at Alex once again without accusation.
Is there any reason ' why ' I should stop it? Is she ' unhappy? Alex slowly shook his head. Are you?
No. Alex sighed softly. I love her very deeply. I'm only sorry that this had to come to your attention. We never meant to hurt you. She above all couldn't have borne that.
I know. John Henry looked at him gently. I know ' and you' have not' hurt me. You have taken nothing from me. She is as much my wife as she has ever been' as much as she can be' now. She is as kind to me as ever' as gentle' as loving. And if you give her something more, some sunshine' some joy' some kindness' some love' how could I begrudge her that? It is not right' for a man of my age' to keep a beautiful young woman locked in a trap' . No! His voice echoed powerfully in the room. No' I will not stop her! And then his voice softened again. She has a right to happiness with you' just as she once had a right to happiness with me. Life is a series of moving seasons' moving stages' moving dreams' we must move with them. To stay locked in the past will condemn her to the same fate as mine. It would be immoral to allow her to do that' that would be the scandal he smiled gently at Alex not what she shares with you. And then almost in a whisper, I am grateful to you' if you' have made' her happy, and I believe that you have. And then he waited for a long moment. And now? What do you plan with her, or do you? He looked worried again, as though trying to settle the future for a beloved child.
Alex wasn't sure what to tell him. We seldom talk about it.
But do you think' about it?
I do. Alex was honest with him. He had been too kind not to be.
Will you his eyes filled with tears on the words take care of her ' for me?
If she will let me.
John Henry shook his head. If they will' let you' . If anything happens to me, her family will come and get her' and take her away. He sighed softly. She needs you' if you will be good to her, she needs you very much' just as once' she needed me.
Alex's own eyes were damp now. I promise you. I will take care of her. And I will never, never pull her away from you. Not now, not later,
not in fifty years or ten years or two. I want you to know that. He reached out and took John Henry's frail hand in his own. She is your wife, and I respect that. I always have. I always will.
And one day you will make her' yours? Their eyes met and held.
If she lets me.
See that' she does. He squeezed Alex's hand hard, and then his eyes closed, as though he were exhausted. He opened them a moment later with a small smile. You're a good man, Alexander.
Thank you, sir. He had finally said it. And he felt better. It was as though they were father and son.
You were brave to come here.
I had to.
And your sister? His eyes questioned Alex and Alex only shrugged.
She can't really make trouble between us. He looked at John Henry. What more can she do? She told you. She can't make it public, the voters would find out then. He smiled. She has no power at all.
But John Henry looked worried. She could hurt ' Raphaella. He said it so gently, it was almost a whisper. But he had said her name at last.
I won't let her. And Alex sounded so strong as he said it that John Henry looked completely at peace.
Good. And then after a moment, She will be safe with you.
Always.
He looked at Alex for a long time and then stretched out his hand again. Alex took it in his and John Henry pressed it and whispered softly, You have my blessing, Alexander' tell her that' when the time comes. There were tears in Alex's eyes as he kissed the frail hand he held, and a few minutes later he left the old man to rest.
He left the stately mansion with a feeling of peace he had never before known. Without meaning to, his sister had bestowed on him an infinitely precious gift. Rather than ending the affair with Raphaella, she had given them the key to their future. In a strange, old-fashioned way, in the ritual of bestowing a blessing, John Henry Phillips had passed on Raphaella to Alexander Hale, not as a possession or a burden, but as a precious treasure that each, in his own time, had vowed to love and protect.
Chapter 25
Raphaella, darling. Her mother threw her arms around her as Raphaella came off the plane in Madrid. But what is this madness? Why didn't you stay in Paris for the night? When your father told me you were going to come straight through like this, I told him it was quite mad. Alejandra de Mornay-Malle looked at the dark circles forming under her daughter's eyes and scolded her gently, but the way she did it told Raphaella that she had no idea why her plans had changed. Obviously her father had said nothing about the letter from Madame Willard, or the affair with Alex, or that she was in disgrace.
Raphaella smiled tiredly at her mother, wanting to feel happy to see her, wanting a feeling of homecoming, of a haven from her father's anger. Instead all she felt was exhaustion, and all she could hear was the echo of her father's words. I will not have a whore under my roof, Raphaella, not even for one night.
Darling, you look exhausted, are you sure you're not ill? The striking flaxen beauty that had made Alejandra de Santos y Quadral famous as a girl had dimmed only slightly with the onset of middle age. She was still a remarkably beautiful woman, her beauty impaired only by the fact that she was insipid and the brilliant green eyes held no very interesting light. But as a statue she would have been lovely, and as a portrait she had been very beautiful, quite a number of times. But she had none of Raphaella's smoky beauty or the stark contrast of her jet-black hair and ivory skin. There was none of Raphaella's depth in her mother, none of her intelligence or her wit or her excitement. Alejandra was just a very elegant woman with a very lovely face, a kind heart, excellent breeding, good manners, and an easy, gracious way.
I'm fine, Mother. I'm just very tired. But I didn't want to waste time in Paris, since I can't stay for very long.
Can't you? Her mother looked dismayed at the prospect of a short visit. But why not? Is John Henry ill again, darling?
Raphaella shook her head as they wended their way from the airport toward Madrid. No. I just don't like to leave him for very long. But there was a look of strain and anguish about her daughter, which Alejandra noticed about her again as they left for Santa Eugenia the next day.
The night before, she had excused herself early, saying that all she needed was a night of rest and she would be fine. But her mother had sensed a reserve, almost a recalcitrance, that made her worry, and on the trip to Santa Eugenia the next day Raphaella said not a word. It was then that Alejandra became almost frightened and called her husband in Paris that night.
But, Antoine, what is it? The girl is positively mourning over something. I don't understand it, but everything is very wrong. Are you sure it's not John Henry? After eight years of his illness it seemed odd that Raphaella should be feeling it so much now. It was then with a sigh of regret that Antoine told her and that she listened with dismay. Poor child.
No, Alejandra, no. There is nothing here to pity. She is behaving abominably, and it will become known very shortly. How will you feel when you read about it in the gossip columns or when you see a photograph of her in the papers somewhere, dancing at a party with a strange man? He sounded very old and very stuffy, and at her end of the phone Alejandra only smiled.
That doesn't sound like Raphaella. Do you suppose she really loves him?
I doubt it. It doesn't really matter. I put things to her very clearly. She has absolutely no choice. Alejandra nodded again, wondering, and then shrugged. Antoine was probably right. He almost always was, as were her brothers, at least most of the time.
But later that night she broached the subject to Raphaella, who had been taking a long quiet walk on the elaborately sculptured grounds. There were palm trees and tall dark cypress, flower gardens and fountains, and hedges in the shapes of birds, but Raphaella saw none of it as she walked along thinking of Alex. All she could think of was the letter Kay had sent her father and that she would not give in to his threats, no matter how adamant he was. She was, after all, a grown woman. She lived in San Francisco, was married, and led her own life. But the truth of how much her family still controlled her came back to her again and again as she pondered her father's words.
Raphaella? She jumped when she heard her name and then saw her mother, wearing a long white evening dress and an endless rope of perfectly matched pearls. Did I frighten you? I'm sorry. She smiled and gently took her daughter's arm. She was good at consoling and advising other women, she had had a life-time of that in Spain. What were you thinking when you were walking?
Oh ' Raphaella exhaled slowly. About nothing special' some things in San Francisco' . She smiled at her mother, but her eyes stayed tired and sad.
Your friend? Suddenly Raphaella stopped walking, and her mother slipped an arm around her daughter's shoulders. Don't get angry. I talked to your father tonight. I was very worried' you look so upset. But there was no reproach in her voice, only sorrow, and gently she led Raphaella along down the winding path. I'm sorry that something like that has happened.
Raphaella didn't say anything for a long time, and then she nodded. So am I. She wasn't sorry for herself, but in a way she was sorry for Alex. She always had been, right from the start. He's a wonderful man. He deserves much more than I can give him.
You should think about that, Raphaella. Weigh it in your conscience. Your father is afraid of the disgrace, but I don't think that's what is really so important. I think you ought to think if you're ruining someone's life. Are you destroying this man? You know she smiled gently and squeezed Raphaella's shoulders again everyone once or twice in a lifetime commits an indiscretion. But it's important that there not be someone who can be hurt by it. Someone you know well usually makes more sense, sometimes even a cousin, maybe someone else who is also a married man. But to play with people who are free, who want more from you, who have hopes for something you can't give is a cruelty, Raphaella. More than that it's irresponsible. If that is what you are doing, then it is wrong for you to love this man.
Her mother had just added yet another burden to the
enormous weight she had felt pressing down on her since she'd arrived. After she had recovered from her anger at the words of her father, she had been overwhelmed with depression at the truth of at least some of his accusations. The fact that she might be taking something from John Henry, in the way of time or spirit or devotion or even just a fraction of a feeling, had worried her all along, and the fact that she was keeping Alex from something more productive had been her other regret about the relationship from the first.
Now her mother was telling her to have an affair with a cousin or someone as married as she was but not with Alex. She was telling her that loving Alex was being cruel. And suddenly, as the emotions poured over her, Raphaella couldn't bear it for a moment longer. She shook her head, squeezed her mother's arm, and ran back along the pathway all the way to the house. Her mother followed more slowly, with tears in her eyes for the anguish she had seen on Raphaella's face.
Chapter 26
The days Raphaella spent at Santa Eugenia that summer were among the unhappiest she had ever spent there, and each day weighed on her like a yoke of cast iron that she wore around her neck. This year even the children didn't enchant her. They were loud and unruly, constantly playing practical jokes on the grown-ups and annoying Raphaella in every possible way. The only bright spot was that they had loved her stories, but even that didn't seem to matter to her very much now. She put the manuscripts back in her suitcase after her first few days there and refused to tell them any more stories during the rest of her stay. She wrote two or three letters to Alex, but suddenly they all seemed stilted and awkward. It was impossible not to tell him what had happened, and she didn't want to do that until she had resolved it all in her own mind. Each time she tried to write to him, she felt more guilty, each day she felt more oppressed by her father and mother's words.
It was almost a relief when after the first week her father came for the weekend, and after a formal luncheon at which everyone at Santa Eugenia was present, thirty-four people that day, he told Raphaella he wanted to see her in the small solarium that adjoined his room. When she joined him there, he looked as ferocious as he had in Paris, and she unconsciously sat down in a striped green and white chair as she would have as a child.
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