‘There is no scandal to be associated with,’ I said. I wondered how far her influence went. It would not have been beyond her to have arranged to pay the servants at Brown’s Hotel to report to her. She had a mind which thought of such things. ‘It was pleasant to have Richard’s company. Otherwise I was completely among strangers.’
‘Quite so.’ She poured China tea, and handed the cup to me.
‘I have brought back the jewels. They were much admired.’
‘So I heard. And Don Luis gave you a ring that belonged to Amelia.’
‘No. It was a loan. Just to be worn as I wore your tiara. I did not like to refuse him. Amelia and I were close.’
‘Do not get too close to Don Luis. He is not the man for you. It is possible, in time, that I may find the man for you. But it takes time.’
I got to my feet. ‘Find the man for me! You are mistaken, Marquesa. If there is another man, I will find him.’
She soothed me with a wave of her hand. ‘You must, by now, understand how these things are done in Spain. You are poor, widowed, with three children, and a mother, who, only by the greatest charity, can be called eccentric. It takes time, and a great deal of thought, to find the right husband for you ‒’
‘How dare you! If I ever have a husband, I swear he will not come by arrangement.’
She turned fully, and now her ageing face showed itself in a full smile. ‘That is what we cannot get from our young women in Spain. One demands that they obey their elders, and so the spirit to disobey is a rare commodity. You have it. You have given it to your children. It is something to treasure … to admire. And yet difficult to sell.’
‘Sell! You don’t think I’m in the market for selling!’
‘Your children are my godchildren. That is for selling if one chooses.’
‘I do not choose. Can I make you understand? I will choose for myself.’
That cunning smile reappeared; she seemed to be pleased, a rare event. ‘Yes, you are good. The trip away from Jerez has developed you even more. You are good at the task you have set yourself. There is much to be discussed ‒’
‘Discussed? There is nothing you and I have to say to each other on this subject, Marquesa. If such a situation should arise, I shall decide. If I ever marry again, I will marry the man I choose.’
She nodded. ‘Well for you that you can afford to be so independent. Do not count on my agreement, or my support, however dear my godchildren are to me. Think of your household. Think of your demented mother. Think of your children. Even … think of that miserable old maid, Maria Luisa. They are all better for my help and protection. Think well before you reject it.’
I started to walk down the long room. Her voice arrested me. ‘Oh, and you may take the jewels. You have worn them well, and with credit. Take them!’
I walked back the length of the room. I thought of all that the sale of them might have given us, of all the things we needed, and would need. ‘In the sort of future you paint for me there will be little need for such adornment.’ I swept the jewel case off the table, and as it spilled open, the sun caught the bright lights of the tiara and necklace. ‘I am alone. I alone will make my decisions. Jewels do not buy me.’
I walked out. I travelled back to Jerez with Andy, wondering what I was to do, wondering how I was to act. I had spurned a powerful ally. I had antagonised a woman who could be a powerful enemy. I was truly alone.
And it was the first day that I had been absolutely certain that I was pregnant.
II
I waited until after the bodega closed before going to Don Luis’s house. I had sent no message that I was coming, so took the chance that he would be there, and alone. There had been no opportunity to return Amelia’s ring, except when we had been in public, and I could not do that. He had visited us at the Plaza de Asturias, and I had seen him also in the sala de degustación at the bodega, but these meetings had been formal. There was so much more to say, to tell. My wearing of Amelia’s ring had been only a symbol of our friendship ‒ a friendship that had seemed to deepen despite the separation forced on us by Carlos’s death. We had shared the horror of that night; it had forged a bond that nothing now would break. I wanted to tell Luis the things about the journey to England that could be told to no one else. I wanted to tell him what I had learned of my father, and I wanted to tell him about Richard Blodmore.
I had Andy harness up the little governess cart which the Marquesa had presented to Juan, and it was Juan’s pony I used. Andy didn’t like my going off by myself once darkness had fallen, but I told him I would be back in time for supper. It was better to go openly to Luis’s house than try to hide in the darkness of the landau. I set off in the scented dusk to his house on the edge of the town. The big iron gates were open, and lamps lighted. The night watchman saw my arrival, and remembering me as Doña Amelia’s friend, greeted me warmly. Yes, Don Luis was at home, and alone. Don Luis would undoubtedly be happy to see me. It was good, he said, to have a visit from Doña Carlota again, and he hoped it would be more often now. He knew about my journey to England, and perhaps some day I would show him the great medal the English King had given my father. I promised I would, and I imagined he expected it would be something like the great jewelled orders that the Spanish grandees were given. It would be a disappointment for him to see that simple cross on its mauve ribbon in its plain box.
Luis greeted me warmly, but a trifle shyly. The constraint placed on our friendship had taken its toll. He led me through the rooms that looked just as they had done when Amelia had been there, except that the touch of the fresh flowers she had loved was missing. All was polished and shining, but the rooms had a faint air of disuse. About to bring me to the drawing-room, Luis changed his mind.
‘No ‒ come to my study. It’s about the only room I spend time in now.’ Here his desk had papers spread across it, and a small pile of books, another package of books just unwrapped from their brown paper had just from Seville. There was a smell of cigar smoke in the air. There were many books in glass-fronted mahogany cases. I realised I had never been in this room before, and it reminded me strongly of the library at Clonmara. Without ringing for a servant, Luis himself brought a decanter and glasses from a side table.
‘You would prefer a fino, I think,’ he said, indicating the sherry.
‘I … I think I would like some brandy,’ I said. His eyebrows raised a trifle, but he made no comment, just brought another decanter.
‘Now tell me …’ he invited. ‘It was good of you to come especially to see me.’
‘To you of all people,’ I raised my glass to him, and then drank. ‘You used not to be so formal.’
He nodded, and shrugged. ‘I used to see you more often.’
‘Yes,’ I admitted. ‘So much changed so quickly.’ I brought out the ring from my purse. ‘I enjoyed wearing it. I thought of Amelia. It wasn’t like wearing the Marquesa’s jewels. You probably heard about the jewels …?’
He nodded. ‘There is little that’s not talked about in this town.’ He touched the ring slowly, but left it where I had placed it on the desk. ‘So, Carlota, you went to England … It has changed you. You are older.’
I found myself talking about the events of those days as they really had been. I told him about the regiment, and the revelation about my father that perhaps Colonel Saunders now regretted making. I told him about the sadness at the Palace. And then, finally, after I had had my second brandy, I told him about Richard Blodmore.
He kept nodding as I talked. With a gesture he asked permission to smoke a cigar. I kept on talking as I recalled it all, things I had told him before ‒ the time when we had first met at Clonmara, the time at Doñana, and now, the time when we finally became lovers.
The smoke swirled about him. ‘So this is the greatest change I see. I see an older woman, someone who is more beautiful. You have the look of a woman fulfilled. I am glad Richard Blodmore has been able to give you that. But you are alone again. And being alone is
harder now that you have learned what the sharing is like.’
I got to my feet. I could make no answer to that. ‘I think I must go. It has been good of you to listen, Luis. There was no one else I could talk to. After seeing the Marquesa this morning, I had to talk. You were the only one. I was angry ‒ very angry. I regretted allowing her to dictate how my life has been these last years. I regretted listening to her advice that I should not see you alone any more ‒ for fear of gossip. And now she threatens to arrange some marriage for me. That I will not allow. I wanted to come to see you to return Amelia’s ring, but I also needed to see you because it is the first step in making my own life. My children may suffer for my independence, but I hope I’ll be able to make up to them in some fashion. There are many problems … there will be more. But I must take the solution of them into my own hands. I cannot live any longer in the shadow of the Marquesa and Don Paulo. That part of my life is over.’
He had not risen when I did, as if he were reluctant to let me go. Once again he touched the ring lying on the desk. ‘But you are alone …’
I smiled faintly. ‘If you call the household I have about me being alone … children, my mother, Maria Luisa. Not so alone, really.’ Suddenly, without asking his permission, I reached for the brandy decanter, and poured for myself. The decanter rattled against the glass as I tried to control the trembling of my hands. ‘And ever less alone, Luis. I am going to have Richard Blodmore’s child.’
I sat down again and watched his face, tried to read its expression through the haze of smoke, the half-closed eyes. For a time he didn’t look at me directly ‒ his long, thin fingers played with the ring as if he were fascinated by the refraction of light thrown out from its heart.
He spoke very slowly. ‘Will you go away? Will you go to England until the child is born? Does Blodmore know?’
I shook my head. ‘None of those things. If I were to go away it would be to keep the birth a secret. My child would be given to someone else to bring up. I could never allow that. Not my child ‒ and Richard’s. No, I ‒ and the family, will have to face it out here. In time Richard will come to know of its birth and he must know that it is his child. I will beg him to do nothing. I wish he would never know, but he will hear, and he will guess. Perhaps the town will guess. I will meet all that when I come to it. It will do the child and the family no good to have Richard’s marriage broken ‒ for him to come and live with us when we can never be married so long as Elena lives.’ Now my voice also trembled a little. ‘Brave talk, Luis. I have only known since this morning. Dr Ramírez confirmed it. I don’t know how brave I’ll be later on. I don’t know what pressures the Marquesa may bring against me to take my sons from me. Through Don Paulo she might be able to take them from me because I will be judged an immoral woman. Can the courts do that in Spain? Can the Church? All this, no doubt, I’ll discover. I have some months yet to think it out. Before I let that happen I will take us all out of here … That could be a rash movement, since we have nowhere to go, but it may be necessary. Perhaps I believe myself braver than I am. I have time to think about it all … there are some months yet before others will know. You are the only person I have burdened with the knowledge.’
He leaned back, and his face was almost beyond the range of the light thrown by the lamp on the desk. The lines in it seemed deeply etched. His mouth twisted, and the scar of Carlos’s making showed white.
‘If it is your decision not to go to Richard Blodmore, I have something I can offer you, Carlota.’
I held up my hand in dismissal. ‘No money, Luis. I have not come for money. I came to talk, because I cannot yet lay this on Maria Luisa, and certainly not on my mother. I have not asked your advice. It is impossible for anyone to offer me advice when I must make this decision alone. I cannot ‒’
He silenced me by lifting his hand. He leaned forward and his face came back into the light. It wore a look of infinite sadness, a look of pain.
‘I can offer you and your child one thing, Carlota. I can offer my name ‒ and therefore my protection. No court in the land ‒ no pressure from whatever source ‒ can take your children from you if I stand beside you ‒ as your husband.’
I shook my head. ‘You are kind beyond belief. Did you think I was hoping for that? I would not insult you, Luis. You are my friend ‒’
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps you see it as an insult to you. You, a beautiful, passionate young woman married to someone like me ‒ someone who for a long time has been only half a man. I cannot be your lover, Carlota. You probably know that, as half the town seems to know or guess it. Knows it, and laughs ‒ pities me. I have borne the laughter and the scorn for a long time. I have been twice married, and have no child. All I can do for you is to stand at the head of your household, and offer you the protection which that gives. It is not enough, I see. You throw away the chance of some other marriage. A young woman has the right to think of a love, of being loved as she should be. That could not be my role.’
‘Luis, you do me the greatest honour …’
‘But you do not accept …’ Again the bitter smile, the shrug that sought to cover the hurt. ‘Well, it was an idea …’
I sat and looked at him for a long time. Then I stretched out my hand and took the ring again. I put it back on the little finger where I had worn it in London. ‘I accept. Let them say what they want to say. You gave me the ring before I left. Many people knew of it. It was your token of love. They will say we were lovers before I left. The child is yours, Luis. Who is to say different? Who can prove different? The town gossiped about us when Carlos was killed. They wondered. Well, let them assume that the gossip they made then had a basis in truth. Let them think back to that time. Perhaps you had bad luck with two wives who were barren, but not with me. The child will be yours, Luis. The child will be yours!’
A strange, dawning light was in his face; some colour came to it, almost a look of expectancy. ‘Blodmore? ‒ and what of Blodmore?’
‘Richard shall never know. It is your child, Luis. I will swear it, before him or before anyone else. No one but you shall have a claim on it.’
I moved around the desk and went to him. Quite naturally I found myself on my knees before him, my face pressed against his knees. When finally I looked up at him again I saw his face distorted through my tears.
‘I thought I could do it alone. But I am grateful ‒’
He put his fingers against my lips. ‘There must be no such talk. We make a bargain, you and I, Carlota. You have and bring to me the sort of wealth I cannot bestow on you. Let there be no talk of gratitude. We have made bargains in the past, and you always paid the interest on your debts. I trusted you, and I placed my trust well.’
‘The interest I can pay on this debt will be my fidelity, Luis. Let there be gossip, but you will have a true wife. And Richard Blodmore shall never know. Let him hate me, if he must, for rushing back to the arms of another man. If he thinks that way, then that is how he must think. I shall never tell him different. It is between you and me, Luis.’
He cradled my face between his hands. ‘I fear I may shut you in a prison.’
‘Can there be a prison if one does not make it so? Can there be a prison built of love and tenderness and fidelity? What do I bring you? Only burdens. You make no easy choice for a wife, Luis. I bring you only a dowry of problems. But I can give what love can give. I can give you companionship by your hearth and at your table. We can talk of the vineyards again, as we once used to talk … We can make a marriage for sharing.’
He raised me to my feet. ‘You must never kneel to me again, Carlota. You do my house honour. The burdens you bring have the weight of a feather. The dowry you bring is beyond price. It is not something that could be written into a marriage contract.’ I felt the press of his lips on my forehead. Then suddenly he was tugging at my hand, pulling me eagerly like a young man.
‘Come, I’ll order the carriage, and we’ll go at once to tell your mother ‒ and Maria Luisa! Through her
the rest of the town will know very soon. Tomorrow I will inform Don Paulo that you have done me the honour of agreeing to become my wife. We will publish the banns …’ He was running along the shining, deserted hall, calling to his principal manservant. ‘No, we will not wait to publish banns. These things can always be arranged. In a few days you will be my wife. Why should we wait …?’ It was a cry of happiness from him that almost broke my heart.
III
We were married in the Collegiate church five days later with full ceremony. It was true that everything could be arranged if enough pressure was brought. Although very few people had been formally invited, half of those we knew in Jerez seemed to turn out to our Nuptial Mass. The two principal witnesses who signed the register were Don Paulo and the Marquesa de Pontevedra.
Afterwards the carriages rolled up, unbidden, to Luis’s house, which was now my home. It seemed, with true Jerez sagacity, the servants had expected such a thing, and food was produced and the wine was plentiful and well chilled. The Marquesa stood near us, greeting guests, but whenever she looked at me there was a kind of controlled rage behind her impassiveness. I had taken more than a small step beyond her control, and I think that she feared that my sons might slip from her influence. So she sought to exert it once more by seeming to have not only fully condoned this marriage, but actively encouraged it. The about-face had been swift and complete, and, as was usual, Don Paulo had not opposed her will.
The occasion had a charming informality about it. Since no one had been invited, it was all right for everyone to come, as if paying an unexpected call. Protocol was not observed. Children came with their parents and romped through the rooms with my sons; young girls tried to escape the eyes of their mothers and aunts and vanish into the garden with the young men. It was a boisterous, almost rowdy affair, improvised, but wonderfully successful. While he was being congratulated by someone, Luis accidentally spilled wine all down my blue dress, one of the new ones I had worn in London, but which had never been seen before in Jerez. I looked at the ruin of my dress and shrugged. ‘Never mind ‒ I was feeling rather hot.’ Then we laughed helplessly together, like old friends, or new lovers. The town looked on, and the rumours that had gone around at the time of Carlos’s death were revived. The feeling grew, I thought, that this was no new arrangement, but one of long standing. I had, they would think, waited a decent length of time since being widowed, and then married the man I had wanted all along. I took my cue from the expression in the faces around us as they watched us laugh and drink together. I would do this, and much more to make everyone believe that this was truly Luis’s child. If we could not be lovers, at least it would be known only to ourselves. The scorn and contempt Luis had suffered would be gone. This would have to be my one gift to him.
The Summer of the Spanish Woman Page 39
