by kps
Jenny dreamed
of a wild Indian rite of passage,
of a white man who danced with the braves,
from whose breast the blood streamed
in an agony that proved his manhood.
$omeday she would meet that man….
Jenny envisioned
a love centuries old between
a man setting out to explore and
discover wealth beyond compare
and the woman he must leave behind
Someday that love would be hers …..
But before that "someday" she must endure much. Many men would entangle their hands in her long black hair; many men would gaze into her deep blue eyes and caress her silken body in lust or love.
She would find sorrow in Spain, torment in Montana, intrigue in Caracas, misery in the Venezuelan jungles before the passion she was predestined to know became reality in a make-believe land of
Lost Splendor
This is Jenny-beautiful, bold and brave, flung by fate into many men's lives-predestined to love but one.
As Iena, Duchess of Varga-she is a widow who does not grieve the loss of the handsome Duke who treated her more as a possession than a wife.
As Jennifer Bryant, daughter of Mariah and Jared Bryant, she seeks to rediscover herself in Montana, only to be captured as a prize of vengeance and cast into a brothel as prisoner and pawn.
As Jenny Cantrell, she is a wife passionately in love with her husband but always in doubt about the reason for her marriage.
As Lady Jennifer, consort of the conqueror of Beann Cowd'en, she is the unwilling symbol of tyranny and the link in the fulfillment of a centuries-old dream of Lost
Splendor
Novels by Donna Comeaux Zide
Caress and Conquer
Lost Splendor
Savage In Silk
Published by
WARNER BOOKS
Donna Comeaux Zide
Lost Splendor
This book is lovingly dedicated
to my mother,
Helen J. Comeaux
in recognition of the support
and encouragement
she has always provided.
PROLOGUE La Coruna, Spain October, 1872 .
Alejandro de la Morenes y Varga stood at his sister-in-law's side, his arm cast protectively about her shoul-ders as the two watched her husband's casket being slid into its waiting portal in the burial vaults beneath the altar of the family chapel.
His own wife stood a short distance away, her stout body properly draped in mourning black, a color that only served to accentuate the sallow cast of her complexion. Her gaze remained downcast, her fingers fumbling over a well-worn rosary as she whispered a succession of prayers' for the soul of her departed brother by marriage.
Of all who had known the late Duke Rodrigo, only Inez would ask God to grant mercy on his everlasting soul and give him the peace that he had never known in life. Her husband and the girl who stood so near to him were beth dry-eyed, and Inez's wide-lipped mouth pursed in disapproval. What would the bishop think of their obvious failure to grieve?
Undoubtedly the foreigner woman's lot had not been an easy one, but then, women were not placed on earth at the side of men to live a life of ease. There was a momentarv flare of compassion within her, quickly extinguished. The girl had brought misery on herself, flaunting her physical beauty and soft ways in Rodrigo's face. The good Lord knew, Inez thought righteously, that the young Duchess of Varga had seldom visited the chapel to pray or beg forgiveness for her sins, the least of which were pride and vanity.
Chiding herself for not attending faithfully to her duty to intercede with God Almighty on Rodrigo's behalf, Inez let her thoughts slip back to the time when her sister-in-law Jennifer had first arrived at El Citadel.
Rodrigo had been close to forty when he'd taken Lady Jennifer Bryant as his bride, woeing and winning her hand in a short span of two months that he'd spent tending to his business affairs in London. Inez, expecting that her own Alejandro would inherit the ducal title, had found her brother-in-law's arrival with the new Duchess completely devastating.
Alejandro, that equally-gullible fool! Had he seemed to care that he and his children might lose their grasp on the vast inheritance of land and wealth that accompanied the dukedom?
No, not a whit! From the first, he was as enchanted by the young English girl as his brother.
All had seemed lost to Inez because Rodrigo had been duped and snared by the wiles of Jennifer. Jennifer ... with hair the texture of rich black silk, with eyes the color of an innocent spring sky. She's not so innocent now, I'll wager, Inez thought, allowing herself a malicious smirk. Three years as Rodrigo's lady had taken their toll from the girl's vivacious spirit. Her easy, lilting laughter that so annoyed Inez, no longer rang in the halls. The sparkle had faded from her eyes, and her natural slenderness had turned to frailty. Long ago, Inez had accepted her own odd assemblage of features as a burden she had been assigned to bear ...
a gift from above to test her faith and enduring spirit. She had resigned herself to the thin, straight hair, oily as the olive trees that grew on her father's estates, to dark, heavy-lidded eyes set, cow-like, too far apart, to a short, plump nose that seemed to point the way to heaven. As a bride to Alejandro she brought a proud lineage that was as old and honorable as his own and the temptingly formidable dowry her loving father had wisely provided.
Duty-bound to submit to the physical demands of her lawful husband, she had, by closing her eyes and praying fervently during the distasteful ordeals, managed to produce five healthy children. Indeed, the times when she was heavy with child were no burden. Only then was she allowed respite from the onerous physical act that so disgusted her. Alejandro had his mistresses, of course, but that was to be expected. As long as he remained discreet, she was even thankful for them, for they relieved her of much of his attentions. The bishop finished his blessing of Rodrigo's coffin and again offered his condolences to the family, interrupting the thoughts of the new Duchess. Inez smiled graciously, baring an uneven row of yellowed teeth, and accepted the holy words on behalf of the "bereaved" widow and Alejandro, who, even now, were quickly making their way out of the depths of the crypt.
Again Inez frowned disapprovingly. It seemed that those two were all too eager to leave the newly buried Duke to lie with the dust of centuries past. She flushed with embarrassment, accepting the offer of the bishop's arm as they walked toward the steps. Only half her attention followed the old prelate's boring recital of the dead man's attributes, as she strained an ear to catch the low, murmured conversation drifting between her husband and Jennifer.
Jennifer Bryant de la Morenes paused in the dusty, cobbled courtyard of EI Citadel, casting a brief, apprehensive glance back at the chapel she had just left. Could it be true that Rodrigo was really dead? Could a man who had always seemed so alive and vital really be entombed there, shut in forever with the mouldering remains of his illustrious ancestors? Or was it all some strange and incredible dream from which she would soon awaken?
Yet she could not refute the physical evidence. Rodrigo had been killed in Venezuela, seeking wealth for which he'd had no need, lusting after a legendary, lost city of gold, driven to his quest because of her ... or so, in a last stroke of cruelty, he had claimed as he'd bid her a cold and brutal farewell a year ago.
With slender, impatient fingers, Jenny tore the suffocating veil of mourning away from her face. By the standards of etiquette, she should wear black for one full year to show proper respect for the loss of her beloved. A joke, she thought now. Long before he had left her, Rodrigo had, deliberately stripped her of any respect or love she had once felt for him. Her mournin
g year was over now; she had wept too many bitter tears during that long, empty separation to feel anything but relief now that it was over.
A sudden, chill wind rose, buffeting the two solitary figures in the courtyard. Alejandro's hand gently touched Jenny's back, urging her toward the comfort of the castle's great hall.
Dead, fallen leaves swirled around them, and overhead a darkening sky foretold the coming of a storm that would dampen but not quench the everthirsty soil of La Coruiia.
Once inside, Alejandro solicitously showed her to a seat near the massive stone fireplace that dominated the far end of the hall, The long, high-ceilinged room was . enriched by Jenny's tasteful decorations from the bright, intricate designs of the Persian rugs covering the floors to the superb oil paintings that graced the walls. During her reign as mistress of El Citadel, she had done much to bring the dark, brooding stone fortress out of the medieval gloom that had pervaded it when she had seen it first.
Even as Jenny surveyed the home that had been hers for three years, memorizing its details to carry with her when she returned home to England, her brother-in-law made his declaration. Alejandro spoke in Spanish, never having mastered more than a halting, broken version of Jenny's native tongue. "My lady, I know that your heart is troubled. Do not think that you must leave El Citadel. Let it remain your home, for you have brought the sun within these shadowed walls."
Alejandro, embarrassed by his own sudden eloquence, busied himself pouring a glass of sherry for her.
Though he had coveted the dukedom for himself, he had no desire to see the only bit of beauty in his home depart. He handed her the wine, quickly glancing away from the guileless curiosity reflected in the gray-blue of her eyes. How often had he wished that he had seen Jenny first, that he hadn't been so eager to acquire Inez's dowry! The wish returned to torment him now.
"Rodrigo loved you in his way, Jena," he continued, calling her by the pet name used in the family circle. When her expression instantly revealed her bitter skepticism, he tried to explain. "He was not used to giving of himself. He lived only to own things ... to possess the finest, the rarest, the most exquisite that he could buy. I believe that is how he measured his worth in this world!" A touch of pity for the values his dead brother cherished was evident in Alejandro's sigh.
Jenny's eyes darkened with sadness that only time would dim and a cynical wisdom that had been acquired since she had come to Spain. "You're telling me that I was just another showpiece for his collection, Alejandro. Though your words ring true, I find the thought much more insulting than believing that he lost his love for me!" The words flew from her like an explosion of sparks from a fire.
Over the sound of Inez's voice in the entrance hall ordering a servant to prepare a meal for the bishop, Jenny raged. "Should I cherish that thought, little brother? Will knowing that I was a prize he sought, one which held little value or interest once acquired, keep me warm in the night?" Jenny leaned back in the chair, tears stinging her eyes as she stared up .at Alejandro. "Don't embarrass me further by endowing that possessive mania of his with the name of love. I know well enough how my husband felt ... as did a number of other women who fell under the spell of his considerable charm!" "But he married you, Jena," Alejandro offered in consolation.
A tight, bitter smile scored her fine mouth with tiny lines. "Yes," she answered in an ironic tone, "I have the honor of being the only one acquired by marriage vows." Her head bowed under the weight of those memories before she slowly raised it to gaze up into her brother-in-law's eyes.
"He cared so much for me that he never bothered to hide his liaisons with others. If that is love, Alejandro, I would have preferred his hatred!"
The entrance of Inez, followed by the aging prelate, cut off any reply or further sympathy Alejandro might have offered. Single-mindedly, the old man still continued his praise of the late Duke. "Oh, to pass on to his heavenly reward so young! The Duke was wise and beneficent beyond his years." He droned on and on in an irritating, dry squeak that reminded Jenny of a poorly played violin.
"He was nothing of the kind," she snapped, unable to stem the flow of resentful words that bubbled from a deep wound within her. "The servants trembled before him. His own nieces and nephews were terrified by his glower, and even the dogs had the good sense to be wary of crossing his path!"
"My lady! Surely you do not ... you do not speak of your dear, departed husband?" The frail, reedy bishop frowned, unsettled by the young widow's sudden outburst. "Why, the man was as near a saint on earth as . . as ..." He paused, searching for Rodrigo's appropriately pious counterpart in heaven.
"Lucifer?" Jenny volunteered the answer, restraining her smile as the thin, prune-wrinkled mouth rounded with shock. The comparison left the bishop speechless for once, and Inez, seeing no help in her husband's bemused, expression, stepped in to offer her apologies.
"My sister-in-law has suffered a great shock, Your Excellency. To be widowed so young, with no children to remember the Duke by ... you must forgive the wild ramblings brought on by grief!"
"Well I ... but, of course, Dona Inez, of course; I myself should have known this. The despair and heartache that follow such a loss can unhinge the best of us. A case of frazzled nerves, no doubt! I recommend rest and prayer, my child-the only two things that will ease your sorrow." He felt a great deal relieved now that they had pinpointed the cause of the widow's strange delusions about her husband.
Over his stooped shoulders, Inez glared a warning at Jenny, and the young girl sensed in the woman's haughty manner a vivid reminder that she was no longer the Duchess nor the mistress of this household.
"Please forgive me, Bishop Cardonez," Jenny replied in a properly contrite tone. A convincing touch of confusion softened her voice as she continued, "I have been under a great strain.
For so many months we thought it was possible that there was a mistake, that he still lived. I must not let my melancholy temper spoil your last hours at El Citadell" She stood, placing the untouched goblet of wine on an exquisite, silver-inlaid table that had been another of her husband's favorite possessions, then curtseyed low, touching the bishop's ring with a respectful kiss. "I do ask your forgiveness, Father, and beg your indulgence to allow me a retreat to my rooms." She lowered her lashes demurely as she added, "I must seek God's guidance for my future path."
The aged man of God beamed now that all had been set right. Alejandro allowed himself a slight smile, knowing full well that Jena sought only to escape the boring company. He could hardly blame her. "We shall miss your presence, my lady, but sympathize fully with your distress. Go with God's blessing, my child, and remember us all in your prayers!"
"Thank you, Your Excellency, I promise to do so."
The half-truth Jenny had told to effect her release from the hall was quickly blossoming into reality. A black, despairing mood had settled over her like a shroud and a building headache thrummed at her temples. Refusing Alejandro's offer to escort her above,she left the room as quickly and unobtrusively as possible.
Minutes later she had gained the welcome sanctuary of her suite, dismissed the maid Isabella, and breathed a sigh of relief, as she locked the door behind the girl. In seconds, she swept through the sitting room and into her bedroom to pause before an ornate, full-length mirror that was mounted on the wall of her dressing room.
The black veil came off, discarded on the floor, and the solemn black dress followed, until Jenny stood almost naked but for the thin, sheer chemise of black silk. How many times had she stood in this spot while Rodrigo, his tall, casually elegant body in that very chair, supervised the details of her attire, praising her figure as the perfect form for the Paris-designed gowns he had ordered for her?
Her face in the mirror paled a shade. She fully realized now that he had merely been caring for one of his assets, assuring himself that the objet d'art he'd brought home from London was properly displayed, much like a jewel in a fine setting. Jenny studied the face in the mirror. She could not deny her own
beauty, for she was, except for the color of her eyes, almost an exact duplicate of her mother, Mariah. And Mariah was an acknowledged beauty.
What a fool she'd been! Anger mixed with wounded pride within her to form a volatile combination that threatened to explode any second. Tears coursed down her cheeks,and suddenly she realized that the distant sound of sobbing was issuing from her own throat.
She tugged at the heavy gold band that had symbolized Rodrigo's custody of her life, cast it full force at the mirror, and sank to her knees. Her entire body shook as she covered her face with both hands and wept piteously for the lost, innocent love that had brought her here.
Later, when the floodtide of tears had ebbed and she lay on her bed in the still of the night, the realization that she was free finally settled over Jenny. She was no longer subject to any man's whims and, she promised herself solemnly, she would never again be so naive as to place her trust in another's hands.
Free ... the word had such a wonderful sound! She had felt so to a certain extent before her marriage, but now her experiences with Rodrigo's cold dominance had underscored the value of that freedom. Her melancholy lifted as she realized the possibilities that lay open to her. .
To the arrogant aristocrat she had married, she had been nothing more than an ornament, a plaything, a lady to grace his table and entertain those few equally arrogant souls Rodrigo had deigned to associate with. From the beginning of their marriage he had frowned on her interest in nursing, dismayed that her. parents had allowed her to learn such a skill from her mother's old friend, Florence Nightingale. "Leave such disgusting work to those who are suited to it," he had ordered sternly when she had broached the subject. The idea that his Duchess should soil her hands caring for the sick and less fortunate had elicited only his disdain.
She would return to London now and the warm, loving atmosphere of her parents' home, to the hospital work she had found so satisfying. Somehow she must manage to bury the heartbreak of her marriage to Rodrigo, to erase those three wasted years, and look forward to a life in which she would be useful and, most of all, needed!
