Bride of the Baja

by Jane Toombs

Alitha smoothed the coverlet and sighed. She was alone in the massive bed with the ornate gilt headboard. Esteban had made it clear that here in Mexico City they wouldn't share a bedroom.

  "That does not mean you won't find me in your bed, mi corazon, my heart, but there are certain customs to be observed."

  "Won't they know that I—that we ... ?" she had asked.

  Esteban had thrown back his head and laughed. "Of a certainty everyone will know you are my amante, but still we shall abide by the ways of my people, as we did in mi casa. You are a senorita and must seem to sleep alone."

  With this she’d given up any hope that he might pretend that she was his wife while in Mexico City. The trouble was, although he did come to her bed, she'd seen very little of Esteban otherwise.

  "But I go to the casa of my third cousin," he would say. "I cannot take you with me to the home of a relative."

  "Your sister-in-law knew about us. Maria knew very well we were—were lovers. Why should you care about a third cousin?"

  Esteban had not smiled. "I cannot explain. It is the custom. One doesn't do certain things."

  "Yet you say everyone is well aware of our relationship."

  "I have walked with you in the Alameda, we have attended the theater, I shall accompany you to the costume ball in a few days. What more do you ask?"

  Alitha sighed again as she remembered Esteban's words. He couldn't understand that she was bored and lonely. She was not allowed to venture from the house unless accompanied by a man. And no one visited when Esteban wasn't here, no one except Dona Anise, the only woman who had befriended her since their arrival in Mexico City. And though Esteban had been responsible for her meeting Dona Anise, he didn't like her.

  "A meddler. One can never trust such a person."

  Alitha rose and crossed to the marble-topped dressing table. The house Esteban had rented for them was a typical Spanish casa, built in a square with a gallery upstairs, but far grander than his own California home. A magnificent fig tree grew in the center of a courtyard graced with rosebushes and flowering vines. From below stairs she could hear the voices of the servants as they began their working day.

  Why did she feel so desolate? She stared at her reflection in the silver-framed mirror. Was she as pretty as Esteban said? Somehow her blue eyes and blond hair seemed bland in this land of gleaming dark hair, skin like beige silk and brown eyes that flashed and danced.

  Danced. There was the real source of her discontent.

  She was beautiful, that dancer. And Esteban had done far more than glance. When he came to her bed at night, Alitha sometimes had the unwelcome notion that in his mind he made love not to her but to La Coralilla

  The dancer wore the brilliant reds and yellows of her namesake, the coral snake, and, with her black hair swirling as she writhed and twisted, Alitha thought the name fit. Beautiful but poisonous. Had she fascinated Esteban exactly as a snake fascinates its prey?

  There'd been no one to talk to about how she felt except Dona Anise.

  "La Coralilla is obviously a mestiza," Dona Anise had told her, "no doubt born of an Indian mother and a Spanish father. Such women are sometimes exotics. But acceptable, of course."

  "You must know there are castes in New Spain," Dona Anise went on. "First we have the gachupinos, Spaniards who were born in Europe, next the Creoles, as I am, a Spaniard who was born here in Mexico. Next the mestizos, a very few mulattos who are white and Negro, plus the zambos, descendents of Indians and Negros. Then, of course, the Indians and Negros themselves."

  Alitha began to brush her hair. Dona Anise would visit later in the day to help plan her costume for the ball. Alitha had seen just the dress she wanted to wear on a Poblana peasant girl in the streets of the city—a white muslin chemise, low in the neck and lace trimmed, with a multicolored petticoat shorter than the chemise. The bottom of the petticoat was scarlet and black, the top yellow. The girl had worn a vest—hers would be blue satin to bring out the color of her eyes—embroidered with gold and silver. Then there was the colored sash—blue again, for hers—which tied in back. She'd wear her hair braided up onto her head as the peasant girl had. The girl's legs had been bare, but Alitha decided she'd wear white silk stockings to match her white satin shoes trimmed in gold and silver.

  Esteban can't help but notice me, she told herself. With silver chains around my neck, I'll be so colorful I'll put La Coralilla in the shade.

  Dona Anise arrived soon after breakfast, which, as usual, was at ten o'clock. Esteban was out—meeting with some government functionaries, he'd told Alitha.

  "Ah, my dear Alitha," Dona Anise said when she was shown into the sala. "I have taken the liberty of bringing my dressmaker, who waits outside. But I must warn you she is scandalized at the idea of a woman such as yourself dressing as a peasant. I fear you may provoke comment by your choice of costume."

  "I don't care."

  "I am happy to be of service to you," Dona Anise said, "but I felt I must warn you. Naturally, you must do what you wish."

  Alitha smiled at the plump, older woman, who never seemed to dress other than in black. Did Spanish widows mourn forever?

  "I have taken another liberty for which I fear you will scold me," Dona Anise went on. "Don Benito will be joining us later, after we have finished with the dressmaker. You know how sincerely he admires you."

  Alitha frowned. Esteban had been most emphatic about gentlemen callers. If he was out, she was not to receive them unless they were accompanied by their wives.

  "Oh, I trust you aren't furious with me? My only intent was to please."

  "No, don't worry. It's quite all right," Alitha assured her.

  Don Benito and Dona Anise were cousins. Surely Esteban wouldn't object. And if she alienated Dona Anise she'd have no one. Besides, Don Benito was at least fifty years old—though still distinguished looking.

  "I find Don Benito a most intelligent man," she told Dona Anise.

  "Of a certainty. Educated in Spain. And well known here in Mexico for his studies into this country's past. A true scholar."

  The dressmaker proved capable, scandalized or not by the costume Alitha would be wearing.

  And yes, she would surely have it ready by the day of the ball.

  "You are still fretting over Don Esteban, no?" Dona Anise asked after the dressmaker had departed. "This dancer, she is but un momenta, a thing of the moment for him, while you are his eternity. That is the way of life. Men, they cannot be faithful, and women must understand."

  "Esteban hasn't been unfaithful," Alitha said stiffly, sorry she'd ever spoken to Anise about La Coralilla.

  Dona Anise raised her eyebrows knowingly. Outside the house a female peddler called, "Tortillas de cua-jada?" The clip-clop of an approaching horse grew louder, then stopped.

  "We will speak of this another time," Dona Anise said. "Don Benito is above de boca en boca, above gossip, and I'm sure that is he." She shook her head. "We women can never measure up to a man's intellect."

  "I don't agree with you," Alitha began but was interrupted by the servant announcing Don Benito.

  Alitha managed to keep her costume a secret from Esteban. Though the evening of the ball was mild, she draped herself in a black velvet manga, a capelike affair that slipped over her head.

  Esteban smiled at her. "An unusual arrangement for your hair," he commented.

  She had wound gold chains into her braids and fastened braids and all atop her head with jeweled combs. Although Alitha knew by now that Mexican women wore many jewels and dressed resplendently when they attended any evening occasion, she still felt gaudy with the gold and jewels in her hair and the seven chains of silver about her neck.

  "I've never been to a ball," she confessed. "We lived quite quietly at home. I've so looked forward to tonight!" She put her hand on his arm. "You look very dashing."

  He'd chosen to come as a pirate and wore a black patch over one eye, a white silk shirt with a scarlet sash and black satin pantaloons tucked into black boots. Ar
ound his head he'd tied a white scarf hung with gold coins. A bolero of scarlet satin threaded with silver embroidery completed the costume.

  "Is that how the French pirate—what was his name, Bouchard?—dresses?" she asked.

  Esteban frowned. "He's merely a ruffian. No, I take my costume from the buccaneers of the Spanish Main."

  "I doubt if there ever was a pirate as handsome as you."

  He smiled again and patted her hand.

  How vain he is, she thought. Would he still love you if you didn't always tell him how wonderful he is?

  Alitha turned away from Esteban. What was she thinking? Why shouldn't Esteban realize how good looking he was?

  Alitha tried not to look stunned at the size of the mansion where the ball was being held. So like a fairy-tale palace! Lanterns lined the drive, beside the entrance musicians played guitars and sang. As Esteban led her inside, a servant indicated where she was to leave her manga.

  When Alitha returned to Esteban, she saw his eyes widen as he saw her costume for the first time. Before he had a chance to speak, another servant was announcing them.

  Alitha stared into a sea of strange faces. Diamonds glittered on coiffures and bosoms, satin glistened, dresses of all colors swirled before her eyes. She recognized English and French queens, Cleopatras, dominoes and Greek goddesses. Most of them seemed even more intrigued by her than she was by them. Esteban had told her many times that her coloring was rare in Mexico and that that was why she drew so many eyes when they appeared in public. Alitha wondered if it might not be because everyone was curious to see Esteban's "friend."

  Esteban's grip on her arm grew painful. She glanced at him but he was staring straight ahead, his face set and grim. What was wrong?

  Several men approached, smiling, one dressed as a crusader, another as a sultan, but Esteban bowed slightly and turned away from them, almost dragging her toward a niche. Behind her she caught the Spanish words for lovely and for peasant.

  "What are you thinking of?" Esteban demanded in a low, furious tone as they were in the relative privacy of the niche. "Dressing like a nothing, a peasant—you humiliate me!"

  "But—but you're a pirate."

  "That's different. Do you see any other woman here gowned beneath her station? Do you?”

  "There's nothing wrong with my costume!" she cried.

  "Have the decency to keep your voice down. Had I seen your costume before we left the casa, I would never have brought you. You deliberately concealed what you were to wear. You planned this—you wanted to embarrass me."

  Alitha blinked back tears. "No, no, all I wanted to do was surprise you."

  "That you have done." His voice was icy with rage. "Unfortunately I've acknowledged you publicly, and leaving now will serve no purpose." He looked her up and down. "Such a dress is cheap and vulgar. Don't you understand that?"

  Alitha gritted her teeth. He was being unfair! She wouldn't cry, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her in tears. Lifting her head, she stared at him defiantly.

  "Senorita Bradford," a man's voice said. Both she and Esteban turned.

  Don Benito stood next to them, with Dona Anise on his arm. Neither were in costume.

  "At last I have found you," Dona Anise said. "You look charming." She wore black velvet festooned with diamonds.

  "If the girls of Puebla all resembled you, senorita, they would be the most sought after women in the world. I find your Poblana costume exquisite." Don Benito, also dressed in black, bowed slightly.

  "Esteban!"

  Alitha turned, already knowing whom she'd see.

  Not only was La Coralilla's face veiled, her entire body was swathed in veils. As they watched, the dancer whirled about and stopped in front of Esteban with her face unveiled, the gauzy cloth in her hand. He smiled down at her. The diaphanous fabric of her body veils outlined her voluptuous curves.

  "Ah, Salome," Esteban greeted her. "Siete, seven?"

  "No, seis, six," she replied, tipping her head to smile teasingly back as she fluttered a loose veil at him. "Cinco, five?" she half-whispered as though she and Esteban were alone. She unloosened an end of material and pressed it into his hand. "Cinco?" she said again.

  Alitha caught her breath as Esteban shrugged and said, "Porque no, why not?"

  He held the cloth firmly as the dancer gracefully twirled away from him until the veil unwound. Her dark nipples could now be clearly seen through the gauze of the remaining veils.

  Esteban laughed and tied the veil around his waist. "Cuatro, four?" he asked.

  La Coralilla danced away. Esteban took a step after her.

  "Esteban!" Alitha spit his name from her lips.

  He stopped, turning to frown at her.

  "I should like to claim a dance with the loveliest peasant girl in the Western Hemisphere," Don Benito said, stepping between them. "That is, if I have your consent?" He bowed first to Alitha, then to Esteban.

  Esteban shrugged. "As you wish," he said.

  Reluctantly Alitha allowed Don Benito to lead her to the floor as she wiped away tears of rage and hurt. "You are far more beautiful than La Coralilla," he murmured into her ear.

  "I—I don't think I feel like dancing just now," she said.

  "Whatever you wish."

  "I'm afraid Dona Anise's dressmaker was right about my costume," Alitha said. "I just don't understand Spanish customs." She pushed the words past the tightness in her throat.

  "When one is as delightful as you are, my dear," Don Benito told her, "nothing is improper."

  La Coralilla's behavior was far more vulgar than her peasant costume, Alitha told herself. Yet Esteban hadn't seemed to mind—he had, in fact, encouraged the dancer. She looked around but couldn't see either of them.

  Laughter came from behind her. A man spoke in Spanish and she picked out several words. Cabeza, head. La Coralilla. Esteban. Salome. Were they saying the dancer would have Esteban's head on her platter instead of John the Baptist's?

  Tears clouding her vision, she turned to Don Benito. "Please," she said. "Take me home. I—I don't feel well."

  He hesitated momentarily. "I am at your service, of course. But Don Esteban . . . ?"

  "I don't care!" Her voice rose. "I don't care about Don Esteban, do you hear?"

  For once Alitha didn't wake early to the peddlers' cries. She'd lain awake most of the night waiting for Esteban. When, near dawn, she still hadn't heard him, she finally fell asleep and dreamed of sailing aboard a ship whose figurehead was La Coralilla, naked to the waist. Alitha woke with a start. The brown face of the maid floated above her. The galopina's Spanish was too rapid for her to follow but she gathered that there was a gentleman waiting in the sala.

  Alitha sat up. Who . . . ? Oh, yes, she vaguely remembered promising Dona Anise she would accompany her today to the castle of Chapultepec, a short league from the city. Naturally they would have to be escorted by a man, as was the custom. Don Benito must have come for her.

  She looked at Concepcion, the galopina. "Don Esteban," Alitha said, then paused. What was the word for return? "Volverd?"

  "No, senorita."

  Alitha dressed in one of her newer gowns, a low-necked celestial blue taffeta with a bell-shaped skirt stiffened with buckram which cleared the floor when she walked to show her slippers. She took pains to twist her hair into a becoming chignon, determined to look her best when Esteban did come home. First, of course, she would have to dismiss Don Benito.

  When she entered the sala, he rose, smiling.

  "As beautiful as the day," he told her. "I trust you are over your indisposition of last night? Alas, Dona Anise lies ill—a headache—this morning. I fear she cannot come with us to Chapultepec."

  When he smiled, she noticed, Don Benito looked younger, with his teeth white against his skin. He was a distinguished man, with graying hair waved back from his forehead and intelligent dark eyes. But as she gazed at him, Don Esteban's face superimposed itself over Don Benito's.

  Was Esteban eve
n now lying in the arms of that woman, that dancer? Why else wouldn't he have come home? Her eyes burned with unshed tears. How could he do this to her? Were all his protestations of love self-serving lies?

  "I have taken the liberty of having my servants pack breakfast for us so that we might get an early start,” Don Benito said.

  She focused her eyes on his with an effort. What was he saying? Breakfast? She never wanted to eat again.

  "I'm sorry, I hope you'll understand that I don't feel like going."

  Don Benito inclined his head. "Naturally. I should have realized Don Esteban would not permit you to travel to the castle alone with me."

  He thought Esteban wouldn't let her go? He was right—Esteban would be furious if he came to the casa and found her gone. Alitha took a deep breath Esteban deserved to be upset. And certainly there was little to fear from Don Benito. Damn Esteban--she'd go!

  They drove through the city, passing the leperos, the beggars, in their rags, half-naked Indians, some of the women carrying babies on their backs in cloth slings, peasant girls in colorful dresses. Also a few well-dressed gentlemen, both afoot and on horseback. It was too early for the Spanish ladies in their mantillas to be about.

  Don Benito leaned across her to point out the cathedral. "If we are to believe de Castillo," he said "the chronicler of Cortes, the old Aztec heathen temple, the Teocalli, on this same site was far more impressive."

  "La Catedril is very beautiful," Alitha murmured.

  The road they traveled was one of the better roads in Mexico, Alitha thought, paved and divided by an aqueduct with massive arches. She half-listened to Don Benito ramble on about the history of the city until they came to gates guarded by soldiers.

  Don Benito leaned from the carriage window and spoke to them, and the gates were thrown open. In a few minutes the carriage was passing beneath huge evergreens.

  "The largest is Montezuma's Cypress," Don Benito said. "More properly Moctezuma's."

  Gray moss hung from the branches, making them look even more ancient than they must be. The carriage climbed a steep hill, finally stopping in front of the castle, Don Benito got out first and helped her alight. Alitha stared at the huge arches and heavy walls of the castle.