by DiAnn Mills
“Hush,” Marianne said in English and coaxed the horse to calm. “I’m here. No need to fear.”
Shaking his white head in disbelief, Don Lorenzo laughed heartily and took the mare’s reins from Juan. “I will have to learn the señorita’s secret.”
Once the pair had galloped beyond the stables, Marianne slowed Diablo to a walk and the don did likewise. With a deep breath, she prayed for courage with her confession. If Don Lorenzo revealed her secret to Papa, Juan might lose his position. Granted, he could take his family to La Flor, but Marianne preferred the move be his choice, not her father’s command.
Marianne had to admit, Don Lorenzo made a dashing figure dressed in dark blue calzoneras trimmed in fawn-colored leather and silver studs. A matching vest and a bright red scarf tied around his neck gave him a distinguished look. Beneath a dark blue, wide-brimmed hat, hair as thick and white as clouds framed his face. He carried himself proudly with his hand resting at his waist within inches of a magnificent, gold-handled sword.
“Don Lorenzo, may we talk?” she asked in Spanish
He lifted a questioning brow. “Si, of course. You are learning my language well.”
She forced her gaze to meet his. “I have a confession to make. I learned the Spanish language before you requested a tutor.”
Startled, he pulled the mare to a halt. “Your padre didn’t tell me this.”
She reined in Diablo. “He doesn’t know, and I hope you’ll not disclose this information to him.”
“Why?” he asked with a frown. “I fail to understand. Shouldn’t he be proud of your accomplishments?”
Marianne carefully formed her words. “I asked Juan and Carmita Torres to teach me without obtaining Papa’s permission. The family is dear to me, and I wanted to talk with them in their own language.”
“Ah, I see.” He nodded as though he already anticipated her father’s reaction. Papa hadn’t attempted to cover how he felt about the part Indian, part Spanish people.
“I pray this can be our secret?” she asked and released a sigh. “And I do want to continue with the young priest who tutors me. I fear my reading and writing skills are lacking.”
He smiled warmly and reached for her hand. “Gracias.”
“For what?”
“Now I know you will be a good wife. Not only are you lovely, but you value truth between a man and a woman. I’m honored and blessed by Dios to have found you before I reach my fiftieth year.”
Marianne fought the tears welling her eyes. If she could not give her life to Armando, then she accepted the role of Don Lorenzo’s wife. Never let it be said that she denied him the delight of a devoted woman. She could marry him and give him happiness.
“Marianne,” he said a few moments later. “May I ask you a question? It is concerning a rather unpleasant topic.”
Considering what little she knew of the man, Marianne hesitated before replying. “Most certainly.”
“When you were kidnapped, did it help to understand your captors?” He set his jaw firmly. “I apologize if you don’t wish to discuss this. The whole incident still angers me.”
Marianne offered a prayer of understanding. “Let me begin by saying, my abductors spoke freely among themselves. They wouldn’t have been so open if they had known of my ability. Si, it actually made the entire ordeal easier to bear. I knew exactly what my fate was to be. It also provided me insight into their plight.”
He stared into her face as though searching for something, and she wondered what thoughts occupied his mind.
“What is it?” she asked. “Has my answer offended you?”
“No, not at all.” He shook his head. “I believe you are a strong young woman. Most señoritas would have resigned themselves to solitude after undergoing such an ordeal. I admire your strength, and the sympathy you obviously have for the people of La Flor.”
Marianne smiled and relaxed. “It’s my turn to thank you. I’ve never been prone to fainting or avoiding uncomfortable situations. Those three days brought me closer to Dios, for He truly delivered me, and gave me a clearer understanding of the people living there.”
“Why is it you don’t despise them?” He leaned closer on his saddle horn.
“They were a desperate people, and I feared for my life. But given the same circumstances, I might have made serious errors too.”
He stiffened and narrowed his dark eyes. “How can you excuse their barbaric treatment of you?”
Marianne caught her breath. “You are mistaken. I refuse to condone their behavior, but I have compassion for them and choose to forgive.”
“Are you being naïve, my dear?” His question was not the least condescending.
She glanced away briefly in the direction of La Flor, then found his gaze again. “I prefer to think I’m trying to be like Jesus.” She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, wishing she could explain her position about the valley.
“Your faith is commendable, but Armando Garcia cannot be trusted.” He urged his mare to walk, and Marianne did the same with Diablo. “And to think his padre and I were amigos. We grew up together.”
Marianne could only stare, bewildered with the Don’s information. “Where is his padre?”
“He died some years ago. His family sent him to Spain in hopes the doctors there could cure an illness with his lungs, but they were unable to help him.”
“So his madre lives in Spain?”
“No, she died here shortly after Joseph sailed back.” Don Lorenzo hesitated. “Armando’s parents never married. She lived in La Flor.”
Marianne more clearly saw the shaping of Armando’s life—he, the product of a Spanish nobleman and a villager. No wonder he fought for the valley. No wonder he despised the wealthy.
Don Lorenzo shrugged and stroked his long, bushy sideburn. “Armando spent many years at the Mission San José y San Miguel de Aguayo studying for the priesthood.”
Her heart fluttered like a butterfly’s wings. “A priest,” she said, more calmly than she truly felt. “From a priest to a rebel?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “First his father left, and prior to his taking his priestly vows, his madre died. Soon afterwards, he deserted the mission. Armando has been causing trouble ever since, and always it’s about some unrest with the people of La Flor. He renounced his commitment to Dios for his people.”
Marianne studied the don. He’d opened her mind about Armando. No doubt his private crusade for La Flor stemmed from the circumstances with his parents. Who else would fight for the rights of the villagers?
But Armando had never been overly cruel, even in the beginning. Certainly not like Felipe. She shuddered at the memory of the man’s viciousness. In contrast, Marianne remembered Armando’s words when he didn’t know she spoke Spanish. His heart lay with his people, their needs and their happiness. He’d returned her to the hacienda, and later he resigned her to Don Lorenzo’s care. She wondered how the Spanish gentleman might feel about that gesture. Armando had most assuredly made a few unlawful decisions, but he did subject himself to the authority of Governor Juan Bautistade Elguezábel.
She’d overheard Papa and Clay talking about the guns, swords, and daggers that the governor ordered Armando to return. The weapons were cleaned and in excellent condition.
Governor Elguezábel hadn’t ordered compensation for all of Papa’s stolen cattle, but Armando selected several from La Flor’s stock and had the soldiers herd them onto his land. Much to Papa’s surprise, the stock appeared healthy and of good quality.
“I don’t believe Armando Garcia is an evil man,” she said. “Perhaps misguided best describes him.”
“A man who nearly took his vows to administer the holy sacraments has no excuse for breaking the laws of the Crown,” Don Lorenzo said.
She nodded. Caught in the middle with her sympathies falling on both sides, Marianne fought the urge to sink into despair. Later, when she had time to mull over this new information, she’d ask God to help her unders
tand the strange happenings in this beautiful land.
Armando a priest…still the thought of him committing his life to God’s work startled her. Did he have a relationship with Jesus Christ, or had he only been caught up in the duties and responsibilities of representing the church for Spain?
Chapter 20
The days of summer passed aimlessly, and each one brought Marianne closer to her September wedding date. She spent hours under the guidance of Antonio de Valero, memorizing the catechism and perfecting her Spanish reading, writing, and speaking abilities. At other times, her mother instructed her in how to supervise a household of servants and how a wife should conduct herself. Don Lorenzo sent a seamstress to fit her for several more new dresses, one of which would be her wedding gown. The seamstress brought samples of fabric, most of which were of Spanish designs in vivid colors.
In mid-August, Don Lorenzo arrived with three huge leather trunks full of the new gowns and many gifts for Marianne and some for her mother. In his generosity, Marianne secretly likened him to her Heavenly Father: He showered her with things that she didn’t deserve. The don hadn’t demanded affection or made her feel uncomfortable with physical expressions of love. Instead, he stood back and appeared to take great pleasure in presenting her with exquisite treasures.
Sometimes she wondered if he guessed her heart, but upon further contemplation, she realized no one knew her inner turmoil but God and Mama. And both understood her desire to obey in His will and to follow Him. If only she could capture the same love for Don Lorenzo as she possessed for Armando. Perhaps then she wouldn’t feel the guilt and shame.
Alone in her bedroom with Mama, Marianne opened the trunks with the anticipation of the new gowns. “Oh, Mama, look at these.” She caught her breath and covered her mouth in surprise and delight.
Gingerly, she lifted the first one from the top, a bright green day dress trimmed in gold. Clasping it to her body, she viewed the effect in front of a full-length mirror. Indeed, it looked lovely. Not an item of ladies’ apparel had missed the don’s consideration, and Marianne blushed with the intimate undergarments: dainty chemises and petticoats embellished in delicate embroidery and yards of lace. He included beaded fans, exquisite lace mantillas—as many as her gowns—elbow-length gloves, some that freed her fingers for riding; and always, jewelry from his family in fine gold and precious gems. How could she ever wear such finery, especially when she preferred the comfort of Mexican dress?
“Mama, I’ll look strange in these beautiful clothes,” Marianne said. “And how will I ever be able to sneak away to ride Diablo in the plain clothes that Carmita gave me?”
Her mother smiled and helped her fold the green dress. “You will have to address the matter with the don.” She laughed. “And are you sure your father will allow you to take Diablo to the don’s hacienda?”
“Of course. Papa has no use for him. I’m sure he’ll be glad to be rid of my Diablo.” She stole a moment to imagine herself riding her stallion freely without criticism at her new home. She had yet to see his estate. She glanced at her mother. “This is all so new, and it frightens me.”
Her mother’s gaze clouded. “My dear, I thought little alarmed you, at least little that you are inclined to reveal.”
“Am I strange?”
“No.” Her mother laughed again, and touched her hand to the side of Marianne’s cheek. “You are simply like your father.”
She chose not to comment on her likeness to Papa. The thought left her feeling confused. If the truth seeped through, he’d be glad to see her gone. And she simply felt numb with the idea of starting a new life as a señora.
Together, Marianne and her mother sorted through the lovely dresses, each one more beautiful than the one before. At the bottom of the third trunk lay a white lace and silk gown. “How can I wear this?” she whispered. She lifted it to examine the lovely, detailed design. Tiny beads dotted across the bodice, up and down the sleeves, and around the lace of the wrists.
“I don’t understand?” Her mother assisted her to press the delicate dress against her body.
“It is far more elegant than I should wear.” Marianne handled the gown as though it were woven with pure gold. “This should be worn by a fine Spanish lady.”
Her mother lifted her chin. “You are a fine, noble lady, and you are far more beautiful than any of this finery. Foremost you’re a Virginia woman, well bred and proud. Soon you’ll take your place as a doña, the wife of Lorenzo Sanchez de la Diaz y Franco. His hacienda expands far greater than ours, and I’m told his home is a mansion fit for a queen. You will be happy there, and your reputation as a perfect wife for the don will be known to all.”
“I won’t disgrace you.” Marianne had slowly begun to realize what her new life involved. “You will be pleased with the reports.”
Her mother smiled through heavily veiled lashes. “Nothing you could do would disappoint me, for you have placed God first in your life.”
“You know my heart, Mama. I will always strive to be worthy of the don’s name, despite…” Her reply choked in her throat.
Her mother took the white gown from her and draped it across the bed. She gathered Marianne into her arms and kissed the top of her head as though she were a little girl again. The closeness brought tears to both of them.
“Go ahead and cry,” Mama said. “All of this is so new. And even without the excitement and expectations of the future before you, your heart breaks for another.”
“Mama, I have prayed to forget him,” she said. “And just when I think I’ve triumphed, a word or a thought brings back his memory. I try. I really try.”
“I understand, for I remember attempting to forget Weston when my papa forbade me to see him.”
“But this is so difficult.”
“You’re stronger than I am,” Mama added. “For I did not listen to the wisdom of my father. We’ve talked of this before. Fight the tug of your heart, my dear. Don Lorenzo is the better choice. A life with Armando Garcia invites misery and suffering. You, my daughter, deserve the best God can give you.”
“I know you’re right.” She whisked away the traces of tears. “I must try harder. The don is a good man, and I have looked for signs that he might not be so.”
“I too have searched for those indiscretions and have found nothing that indicates he is anything but an honorable man who adores you.”
Later, during the afternoon meal, Marianne thanked the don in meticulously worded Spanish for his generosity.
His white mustache turned up with pleasure. “I am delighted that you have examined the contents of the trunks and are satisfied with them.”
Marianne nodded. “More than satisfied, I am overwhelmed with your kindness.”
He smiled and she saw a sparkle in his clear brown eyes. “Your Spanish is excellent, and your tutor writes glowing reports about your progress.” He turned his attention to her father. “Weston, you are blessed with a beautiful, intelligent daughter. I have no doubt that when I’m gone, she will manage my hacienda proficiently. At my age, I cannot guarantee a male heir. In fact, I plan to begin instructing her about how to manage my estate as soon as we are married.”
For a brief moment, her father looked startled with the don’s declaration, but it soon passed to one of pleasantness. Marianne fought the urge to laugh. The only reason Papa had arranged the marriage was to expand the Phillips Hacienda. Papa had gambled on all the land being transferred to him upon the don’s death. The thought of the wealthy holdings remaining with Marianne must fill him with rage. Papa and Marianne quarreled enough for him to realize she’d never allow him to possess one tenth of the don’s land.
In essence, Papa had lost all he desired to gain in arranging for his daughter to wed the owner of a baronial estate.
“I’m not so sure you would want to entrust your land to a woman who has no experience with business,” Papa said.
Don Lorenzo lifted his glass of wine to his lips. He paused, no doubt allowing the liq
uid to settle on his palate before replying. “I have no reservations about my future wife’s ability. Although it is not a common practice, I’ve given the matter considerable thought. Besides, who else could accomplish such a feat? All of my family is in Spain.” He raised a questioning brow as if silently challenging Papa.
He comprehends Papa’s mind. Don Lorenzo will not be fooled by one man’s greed. God has provided well for me.
The next morning, Don Lorenzo left the Phillips Hacienda with the understanding he would return in eight weeks’ time for the wedding. On his way home, he planned to visit the Mission San Antonio de Valero to speak with Padre Garvino Valdes to finalize the arrangements. Don Lorenzo wanted the ceremony at the San Fernando Church and urged her father to escort Marianne and her mother there to visit the padre and the site of the wedding. Papa protested. He didn’t have time to leave his work, and he expected old friends from Virginia any day.
“I insist.” Don Lorenzo’s insistence was more than a match for Papa’s stubborn will. “The priest will want to meet with Señorita Marianne and question her about our faith.”
Papa agreed with the spirit of an enraged bull. Marianne understood his compliance lay with his desire still to please the Spanish nobleman. She felt sure Papa hadn’t given up hope of one day gaining control of the don’s vast land.
While bidding Don Lorenzo good-bye, she wished she could speak with him about Papa and his friends from Virginia. She remembered the morning months ago when he told Clay about his friends from Virginia going to help him gain possession of La Flor. But Don Lorenzo already knew Papa’s heart. That had become evident during yesterday’s meal. She prayed her suspicions were wrong, that she was mistaken about Papa’s motives, and Papa’s friends were to just visit. The governor could make life very difficult for Papa. Surely he wouldn’t risk all he had gained for vengeance.
She shuddered with the revelation of the Virginian guests. She remembered Papa stating he’d sent for men to help him secure La Flor and drive out Armando and his people from the valley. She thought Papa had abandoned his thirst for their land when Governor Juan Bautistade Elguezábel ruled on the matter. The thought sickened her. Nothing had changed, even with the governor’s edict. She resolved to pray more fervently for the people of La Flor, Papa’s hard heart, and Armando.
