by Brenda Joyce
The ranch house was at the end of the valley where the ground slowly rose to meet the sky. Numerous barns, paddocks, and wood-sided buildings, all weathered gray, gave the rancho the appearance of a small, secluded village. Privately, Regina could imagine just how wonderful Miramar would look freshly whitewashed, but she would never say so.
They passed acres of orange groves. Slade had not been very communicative since they had kissed, but now he could not refrain from telling her about his home.
"My grandfather, Alejandro Delanza, chose to build his home here rather than at the other end of the valley."
"I don't blame him," Regina murmured. The Spanish-style hacienda was silhouetted boldly against the pastel-blue sky, framed on one side by pine-clad hills, and gave the distinct appearance of reigning above all the land, people, and other living creatures below it.
Slade gave her a long look. "There were no towns down-valley back then, just the mission at San Miguel."
"Even so, your grandfather had an eye for grandeur."
The road wound toward the house, which was where it ended. As they approached the outlying barns, passing blooded colts frollicking in one pasture, Slade said, "Once we had a hundred men in our employ, and Miramar supported not just them but their wives and children, too. In those days we were a traditional hacienda, meaning that we were self-sufficient. Everything we needed was raised, grown, or made right here."
"That's very romantic."
Slade gave her another thoughtful look. "But not productive, and by the time California reached statehood, not competitive. Now we have a dozen vaqueros in our employ, one tanner, one butcher, and Cookie. Not including some help up at the house," he added.
It was a far cry from the old days, Regina thought. It was somehow sad. Slade might have guessed her thoughts. "I wouldn't turn back the clock even if I could," he said.
He drove past the outbuildings and barns, taking them directly to the house. A man who bore no real resemblance to Slade, but who somehow reminded her of him, came through the courtyard toward them.
"Welcome to Miramar," the smiling young man said. "I'm Edward."
Regina smiled back at him. His open, direct friendliness was very welcome after the complicated, tangled state of her relationship with Slade. He helped her down from the carriage. "Now I know why James was in love with you," he said.
Regina was aware that his flattery was rather smooth, but he was such a handsome man, his charm innate, that she did not mind. Here, surely, was the classic ladies' man. His flirtatiousness did not unnerve her, not at all, and she had the feeling that she was well-versed in this kind of exchange. "That is too kind of you," she said.
"I guess you must hear flattery all the time. Does it ever get boring being told how beautiful you are?"
From behind them, Slade began heaving her trunks on the ground.
She was not embarrassed and she laughed. "You, I think, are a rogue."
"A rogue?" His grin was devilish and handsome. "I've never been called a rogue before. I like it."
Regina laughed again. She had most definitely played this flirtation game many times before; not only was she well-schooled in it, she was comfortable in such an exchange. But then she wondered how it was possible if she had spent the past few years cloistered in a private school for young ladies. In such a setting she would not have had the opportunity to flirt with handsome young men; briefly, she was perplexed.
"Well, you'll certainly hear it from now on," Edward said, grinning, "until you do get bored."
Regina flashed another smile, but it was only a facade. "I don't think a young lady ever tires of flattery," she said automatically. She was uneasy with her last thought. She did not have time to brood upon the contradiction, however, for Slade made a contemptuous noise, gaining both their attention.
"You think women really fall for that?" he said.
Regina regarded Slade in surprise, wondering why he was angry when his brother's words were merely a game.
Edward smiled at her again. "He's jealous. He's jealous because he wouldn't know how to sweet-talk a woman if his life depended on it."
Slade looked at Regina before answering his brother. "I have no use for 'sweet-talking.' But you seem more than adept at it."
"I'm wounded," Edward said jokingly, but he seemed puzzled by Slade's response.
Slade threw another accusing glance at Regina. "You both seem more than adept at it."
Regina could not believe that he would attack her so. Beside her, Edward looked equally surprised. "Slade," he protested.
Slade ignored them both. He heaved the last of her trunks on the ground and disappeared into the house.
Regina's feelings were wounded but she was very careful to hide them. She turned toward the house so that Edward would not see her flushed face. "You have a beautiful home," she said unevenly.
"The house was first built in '38," Edward said quickly. Then he touched her arm. "He didn't mean it."
"Yes, he did. And I seem to be very accomplished in the art of flirtation."
"Sometimes even I can't understand my brother," Edward said grimly. "Most of the ladies I know flirt."
His words did not soothe her. In the past few hours she had pushed Slade away, when that had not been her intention at all. She owed him her life, she was sure of it, but all she had done was to anger him.
"Come on, let's go in, it's much cooler inside," Edward said, taking her arm.
He was hoping to distract her, and Regina wanted to be distracted. She looked at the house and realized that it was indeed beautiful. Huge oleanders, red and pink and white, surged up against the sides of the sprawling, U-shaped adobe house. Through the arched entryway she could see that the house was built around a vast courtyard with apricot-hued stone floors, a limestone fountain, and a profusion of exotic blooming plants. There was an opening at the back of the courtyard, and it looked as if another courtyard was behind the first.
"Of course, it's been added onto quite a bit since '38," Edward said. "What you see now is actually only a part of the original structure. We are a real Californio family, one of the last ones. Most have sold out."
"I see," Regina said, thankful that he was succeeding in his attempt to bring a degree of normalcy back into the moment.
"You'll probably hear this over and over again, but the Mexican governor, Juan Bautista Alvarado, awarded this land to us in '37. All of the Mexican ranchos were originally Spanish missions; when Mexico gained her independence from Spain in '22, she claimed California. Mexican soldiers and settlers, even some foreigners, petitioned and received large grants o
f land. Our grant was one of the first. My grandfather was a soldier. Of course, when California became a state, we lost most of our land. But we fared better than the rest of the Californios, most of whom lost everything. And those that didn't lose their land soon divided it up. Rick would never do that."
Despite herself, Regina finally let her thoughts slip free of Slade, and she turned to face Edward. "Why did you lose your land?"
"The Americans wanted it. The Californio claims were old, the original grants often lost or unreadable, boundaries often-and usually-marked by nature: a pair of boulders, for example, or the turnoff of a creek, or a tree that was struck by lightning. As you can imagine, in a half a century creeks change course or dry up completely, boulders are removed, trees are chopped down or uprooted by storms." Edward shrugged. "Most of the Californio grants were overturned, the land given to the newcomers by the newcomers' courts. We spent a dozen years defending our claim, at a great expense, and fortunately we retained a third of our holdings." He smiled. "Truth is, the original grant was so large it was not just unmanageable, it was obscene."
A woman entered the courtyard from the far side of the house and began walking toward them.
Regina watched her, saying, "But that seems so unfair."
"Is life fair?"
She looked at Slade's brother, who was no longer smiling, who was suddenly serious and intent. She did not have to know him well to know that he possessed a sunny and pleasing character. Yet in that instant, she saw the shadow in his eyes. A shiver touched her. For he was right. Life was most definitely not fair. She had only to recall the tragedy of James Delanza's death or her own plight in order to agree with his assessment.
"Edward," the woman called.
Regina turned to her curiously. She was a slender woman with gleaming auburn hair that was pulled back into a fashionable and classic chignon. She moved forward with resolute strides. As she came closer Regina saw that she was an older woman, perhaps forty, but a beautiful one. Regina also noticed that her pastel-green dress had once been designed to accommodate a bustle. It had been altered, but there was no mistaking its original intent. It was more than a few years old and hopelessly out of fashion.
"This is my mother, Victoria," Edward said.
"And you must be Elizabeth." The woman smiled, extending her hand. "How very nice to finally meet you after all these years."
Regina shook her hand. Although the woman's words were warm, they rang false. Her smile seemed as brittle as glass. When Regina looked into her eyes, she saw that they glittered. A chill crept up the back of her neck.
"I hope you are not too upset over the trauma you J have suffered," Victoria said.
"I feel much better today," Regina said. "Thank you."
"Come with me. Slade will bring your luggage in. I'm giving you a guest room which also faces the ocean. It's the coolest room in the house. There's almost always a breeze."
Regina hadn't realized that they were that close to the Pacific Ocean. She was hurried along, leaving Edward leaning against the thick wall in front of the house with a cigarette in one hand, rummaging intently in his pockets with the other, apparently no longer even aware of her.
Regina followed Victoria into the house, and it was like entering another world in another time and place.
The furniture was dark, heavy, and old. The Oriental rugs were exquisite but very faded and so worn that she actually discerned several tears. A Spanish chest in the central salon caught her eye because of its immense proportions-it was at least chest-high-and the chunky engraving upon its sides. As they passed the dining room she glimpsed a large old trestle table and a dozen heavy chairs, upholstered in studded, worn tan leather, with a massive tapestry on one wall, much of it faded and cracked and in great need of repair. Unquestionably, everything was Sephardic and, Regina suspected, dated back to the era of the original land grant or even earlier.
"Did the first Delanzas bring the furnishings with them?" she asked curiously. "It's all so unusual, but so handsome." She realized she was used to marble floors and gilded moldings, to wrought-iron and stained glass, to electricity and telephones, not stone tiles, whitewashed stucco, gas lighting, and old, dark wood.
"Of course." Victoria's reply was cool and almost disdainful. They had left the house and entered the interior courtyard, this one smaller than the one in front of the house. Another fountain sprayed cool, inviting water in its center. It, too, was graced with many shade trees and an abundance of blooming shrubbery and flowers. They crossed the courtyard quickly, passing the fountain. The air around it was cool and moist with tiny droplets of water.
"Here we are," Victoria said, entering a room directly off the courtyard. She swiftly moved across it to open the doors on the opposite wall. Regina was greeted with a breathtaking glimpse of a summer-yellow hill sliding away abruptly to the shimmering gray ocean.
"What a wonderful view!"
Victoria turned, smiling. The smile was cold.
Regina's own smile died. She began removing her gloves, her heart lurching uneasily. She carefully took off her hat. When she looked at the other woman, she saw her staring at her pearls.
"How beautiful," Victoria said, with no warmth whatsoever.
"Thank you."
"I will have Lucinda bring you lemonade. This is the guest wing, and as you are the only guest, you have it to yourself." Somehow, her words were not kind or hospitable, but quite the opposite.
"You will want to freshen up before dinner," Victoria continued. "I'll have Lucinda run you a bath. We dine at seven."
"One of the few breaks with tradition Rick has allowed," Slade said from the doorway, holding two of her bags.
Regina was terribly glad to see him. Edward's mother was not just unpleasant, but disturbing. She was certain the woman despised her. Yet she could not even begin to fathom why.
Slade entered, dumping her bags on the floor. "Rick is up and out at the crack of dawn, so traditional dining at ten or eleven in the evening is out of the question."
"I see," Regina said.
Without another word Slade turned and left. Regina gazed after him, wishing he had stayed. She did not relish the idea of being alone with Victoria any more than was necessary.
At that precise moment, Victoria moved quickly across the room, closing the doors that opened onto the courtyard and closeting the two of them together. Regina stared at her.
"So tell me," Victoria said unpleasantly, "is this a ruse?"
"What?"
"Is this a ruse? A charade? This loss of memory of yours?"
"No! Of course not! How I wish I could remember!"
"I see." Vic
toria moved slowly to the bed, fingering the brightly colored cotton coverlet. "Then why did you come here-Elizabeth?"
"I… Rick invited me. He said I was welcome, as if I were actual family."
Victoria laughed mirthlessly.
Regina realized that she was standing with her back against the hard wooden door. "What is it?"
"Don't you know what he intends for you? Don't you realize why he's invited you here? Can't you figure it out?"
"No." Regina was dismayed by the woman's innuendos, dismayed to realize that there might be some kind of motivation other than what Rick had professed.
"Hasn't Slade told you? Or hinted?" Victoria asked.
"Hinted at what? Told me what?"
"Rick intends for you to marry Slade."
"What!" Regina was shocked. "But-I was supposed to marry James!"
"And James is dead. Now Rick plans to see you married to Slade. Come hell or high water."
"I don't understand. Why?"
"Why?" Victoria laughed. And she looked pointedly at Regina's perfect pearls. "For your money, of course."
Chapter 6
Regina was incredulous.
Victoria had left in triumph. Regina paced the room, wringing her hands, too shocked to think clearly. Rick had seemed so sincere. But he hadn't been sincere, not at all.
The double doors of her room which opened on the courtyard banged open. Regina halted. Slade stood there with one of her larger, heavier trunks. "Where do you want this?" he asked.
Anger overwhelmed her. She moved toward him before she knew what she was even going to do. He was as much an accomplice to this deception as his father was. For he had known. And she had trusted him. He had said he would protect her. Oh, how she had trusted him! But he wasn't trustworthy at all. He had lied to her. He hoped to use her. The betrayal was devastating.
