by Tina Donahue
The bedchamber was larger than the one Tomás had chosen for his own, wall hangings and carpets sumptuous, furniture heavy and dark with breathtaking designs carved into the wood. Three windows, rather than two, faced the lawn leading to the harem. After lighting numerous candles, Beatriz opened the wooden screens to air the room.
“How beautiful.” Isabella turned a slow circle, taking everything in. “When Fernando and I were on our journey to my papá’s castle, after we escaped Granada, we would have enjoyed such a chamber. The places where we stayed were loathsome but fun.” She grinned.
Beatriz liked her already. “Someday, I want you to tell me the whole story.”
“I will.” She sank into a box chair near the bed and undid her top. Juana cried piteously until she latched on to her mother’s breast.
“Ah.” Isabella sighed. “Peace at last.”
Beatriz leaned closer. “Your eyes are blue-green.” The color unbelievable in the candlelight. “How amazing.”
“Fernando likes them. What of you and Tomás? Have you decided when to wed?”
She sat on the mattress. “Do you know about my papá and Don Larnaz?”
“Tomás told us everything in his missive. Is there no way your father can soften his position in this? Clearly, Don Larnaz is a puto. Say nothing to Fernando about me using the word. He forbids me to do so constantly. I do anyway and beg his forgiveness, after which, he grants me his grace. We go in circles constantly.”
Beatriz laughed. “Whatever you say in here is our secret.”
“I knew I would like you. About you wedding Tomás, surely your union would put a stop to Don Larnaz’s claim.”
“If we post banns, he or Papá could voice their objections. They may be able to stop us. What we need is to wed without notice and in secret the same as Sancha and Enrique. The monarchs too.”
“You can include me and Fernando. Another tale I must tell you someday. Do you know a sacerdote who will wed you in secret?”
“No.” Beatriz hid her disappointment. “We were going to ask you and Fernando. Enrique already wrote saying his friend Dominico was away with the soldiers in the newest conflict.”
Isabella chewed her lip. “I know of no others. Are you lying with Tomás? Forgive me for being bold, but are you?”
Beatriz’s face stung with heat. She wanted to lie but nodded.
“Well then. When you conceive, Don Larnaz and your papá will have to leave you alone.”
“I fear not.” Beatriz explained the situation to Isabella.
Juana stirred and grew fussy. Isabella stroked her daughter’s cheek, cooing until the infant had settled. “Don Larnaz is worse than a puto. He would raise another man’s child to have your father’s wealth? Tomás would never allow anyone to take his son or daughter from him.”
“I know. I worry for his safety.”
“The marquis reminds me of my uncle, Don Rodrigo. Soft, yet cunning. I kept telling Fernando the man would strike and he did, nearly killing Fernando.”
The room spun. Beatriz gripped the counterpane. “I worry Don Larnaz will try to waylay Tomás somehow. I would rather he forget me than be in danger.”
“I saw how he looks at you. Giving up that kind of love would never be possible for him.”
A gentle knock sounded on the door.
“Most likely a servant with my trunk.” Isabella adjusted herself in the chair. “Juana will finish her meal in a moment. Once my things are in here, we can work on a plan to fix your and Tomás’s problem while you choose one of my gowns.”
* * * *
Tomás was on his second goblet of wine, ready for his third.
Fernando shook his head. “No matter how many times you ask, I know of no sacerdote other than Dominico and the fool who came to the fortaleza.”
“There must be one priest in Spain I can bribe to wed Beatriz and me as quickly as possible without banns. When did money stop talking in Spain?”
“Never, as far as I know. Why not wait to see what happens when Nuncio returns from speaking with her father? He may have good news. When do you expect him?”
“I hoped for today before dusk. Señor Serrano must have delayed him to the point Nuncio and the guards had to spend the night. Given what Beatriz says, only harm comes from her father.”
Fernando sat back in his chair, legs crossed at the ankles. “Isabella said the same about her uncle.”
“You failed to heed her advice and nearly died.”
Fernando frowned. “Would her papá actually do bodily harm to have you out of the way? Once you wed her—”
“A widow is always free to marry again, no?”
“Are you serious? If the man is mad enough to try to kill you for marrying his daughter, why are you racing to the altar?”
“For the same reason you did with Isabella. I love Beatriz.”
“I know, but why not settle this with him first? Persuade her father to see things your way. You have noble blood running through your veins, the same as Larnaz. Our family has connections at court. Sancha does too. Everything he could want is his for the asking.”
“Except the title of marquis for his son-in-law, the one thing Larnaz can give him that I never can. Although being a prince may seem nice, not all will become king.”
Fernando finished his wine and filled his goblet again. “Perhaps you should think this out before you make a hasty decision.”
“If you mean in wedding Beatriz, I have no time to waste.”
“Why?”
“If I delay my union with her, I may lose her forever. Beatriz already fears what her papá may do if we stay together. She ran from him. She would run from this castle too in order to keep me safe. She might even go back to her father and agree to wed Larnaz to protect me. I have to find a way to make our marriage happen quickly or it may not happen at all.”
* * * *
The gowns in Isabella’s trunk were plentiful, beautiful, and in a rainbow of colors with beads, pearls, or intricate embroidery embellishing each.
Isabella gestured Beatriz over. “Help me unpack these so you can try them on.”
“Do you mind if Yolanda takes the gowns out? I just hired her as my personal maid. Seeing these would thrill her.”
“Is this her first time assisting a lady?”
Beatriz nearly laughed. “She began here as a scullery maid, hoping to gut animals next.”
“A curious path to take in becoming a personal maid.”
“Yolanda came from the village. She never complains or stops working. Keeping up with her is impossible, even though she has yet to turn thirteen. She has a fine mind too. I promised to teach her to read and write.”
Affection flooded Isabella’s face. “Your love for her shines through. I feel the same about my sisters, especially Sancha. Of course, Yolanda should handle my gowns. She sounds delightful.”
Beatriz called her in.
Yolanda gaped at the lovely clothes and Isabella. “You want me to touch these?”
“And lay them on the bed, please. That way, Beatriz can see which one she likes best.”
As quick as Yolanda had been with every task in the past, she took a painfully long time putting the first gown on the mattress. The dress might have been made of glass, capable of shattering into a million pieces.
“Well done.” Isabella leaned toward Beatriz. “What an adorable child. I like her.”
“I knew you would.” She wrapped her arm around Isabella’s waist. “Help me keep Tomás safe.”
“Nothing else will do. That and you wedding him. We will find a way, I promise.”
Chapter 13
With Isabella and Yolanda’s help, Beatriz chose a plum-colored gown. Silver embroidery and tiny pearls adorned the silk.
Yolanda clapped. “Even the queen would envy you in this.”
“That she would.” Isabella handed her sleeping daughter to the servant, waiting until she left before motioning Be
atriz over. “Wait until you get to court and see what the other women wear.”
Only if life with Tomás allowed them to leave the safety here and enjoy each other as a married couple. A simple notion so seemingly out of reach.
Isabella took her hands. “How sad you look. Once you have the gown on and I fix your hair, your mood will improve.”
“Not until I have the answers I need about Tomás’s and my situation.”
“You remind me of myself when I tried to keep Fernando from my uncle before the puto could…oh my.” She glanced at Yolanda.
She was all eyes, expression rapt.
Isabella smiled. “Can you bring us water, a cloth, and scented oil?”
“At once.” She ran from the room.
Isabella closed the door. “Fernando is right. I need to watch my tongue.” She joined Beatriz by the bed. “Have you thought of fleeing to another land with Tomás until your papá gives up?”
“He never will. He sees naught except what he wants.”
“My uncle was the same. I begged Fernando to take us to Portugal to protect himself. He refused, wanting to stay and fight for what he thought was mine, not Sancha’s. Even after he knew who I was, he insisted on going after Don Rodrigo.”
“Tomás boasts of his time in battle as though those days will keep him from harm forever.”
“Men are far too obstinate, thinking they know everything. Will you speak to your papá if he requests an audience?”
She cringed. “I dread reading a missive from him.” She told Isabella about Nuncio’s trip to the city. “I hoped for his quick return to know what Tomás and I are going to face. Not that my father is one to give his plans away.” She wrung her hands. “I worry for Nuncio.”
“Is he easily swayed? Will he help your papá?”
“Never. He would die for Tomás. I worry my father will take him hostage, threatening to harm the poor man unless I return. Something must have happened to keep him past dusk.”
Isabella wrapped her arm around Beatriz’s shoulders. “I know how you worry. Even so, only a madman would risk his reputation and the authorities coming down on him to get what he wants.”
“No one has ever opposed my father before, especially a woman. He destroyed my mother and meant to cow me as he had her. I have no idea what his plans are, or what he may have talked Don Larnaz into doing.”
“Unless the marquis plans to storm the castle, he has little hope of doing anything. Until Nuncio returns with your father’s response, your only choice is to wait and make your plans based on what he says.”
Or flee and disappear forever, giving Tomás a more peaceful future.
“Are you thinking about leaving?” Isabella asked. “If you do, Tomás will follow and try to bring you back.”
“Not if he believes I fear Papá beyond anything else. What woman wants a life constantly looking over her shoulder or dreads becoming a widow, forced into a second marriage with a brute? All I have to do is convince Tomás I want an end to this madness by never seeing him or my father again.”
“Although women have succeeded in deceiving men since time began, you will never fool Tomás. The man would have to be blind not to see how you feel about him even if you say otherwise. Best you stay here with us and face this.”
Light footsteps sounded in the hall.
“You may want to smile too.” Isabella cupped Beatriz’s chin. “No need to alarm Yolanda with your mood. The child may take off to slay your papá and the marquis on her own. Then where would you be with your personal maid having to face the alguacil?”
Beatriz laughed at the prospect of dear Yolanda facing the sheriff, so eager to please she’d undoubtedly confess without pause, offer to launder the man’s clothes, clean his house, prepare a meal, and finish the day by making candles for him.
“There now.” Isabella smiled. “Until Nuncio returns, what say we have some fun?”
Despite her concerns, Beatriz did relax, hope pulsing through her for an end to problems and the beginning of a new life.
Isabella ran the damp cloth over Beatriz’s face and neck, leaving a faint rose scent. She brushed Beatriz’s hair until the tresses shone. After braiding a portion, Isabella selected a caul to match the gown.
“No, please. Tomás wants my hair loose.”
“Loose it shall be.” She tossed the caul back into the wooden box. “We should give our men precisely what they want, but only when we feel inclined to do so, never before.”
Yolanda drank in the converse. If she paid this much attention to reading and writing, she’d master the skills within days.
Beatriz caught Isabella’s eye and inclined her head to the girl.
“Right. My tongue again.” Isabella spoke to Yolanda. “Pay no attention to what I say in here. Promise to forget every word immediately.”
“Can I keep listening?”
Beatriz crossed her arms. “As long as you repeat nothing.”
“I would never.”
Isabella grinned at Beatriz. “We have an ally.”
Once she’d finished with Beatriz’s hair, Isabella laced her into the gown. Yolanda saw to the buttons. Together, they adjusted or smoothed hair and silk, the way one would when preparing a woman for a meeting with the queen or her own wedding. Beatriz allowed herself to dream of marrying Tomás. If given the choice, she’d have the ceremony on the lawn, the grass cool and damp beneath their feet, a soft breeze chasing fluffy clouds across the sky.
Isabella, Fernando, Enrique, Sancha, Yolanda, and Nuncio would attend as Beatriz’s new family, each one protecting her happiness as she would theirs.
Isabella offered a mirror. “Want to see what you look like now?”
Yolanda bounced on her heels. “She must.”
Her complexion was radiant, hair tamed, the gown shimmering in the candlelight, fabric light as a cloud unlike the heavy material she wore for livery. “I look nearly as good as you, Isabella.”
“Far better, no?” She elbowed Yolanda.
She nodded vigorously. “An angel would envy you.”
Isabella sped to the door. “Beatriz, wait here.”
“For what?”
“Something I just thought of. Yolanda, come with me.” With their fingers laced, they left the chamber.
Beatriz wasn’t certain what to think or how to feel. Although she enjoyed looking like a lady again, the effort seemed such a waste when she and Isabella should have made plans to win against her father and Don Larnaz. Perhaps Isabella realized how hopeless the situation was and didn’t know what else to do except make the best of things.
The laughter Beatriz had shared earlier seemed a distant memory already. Doom clung to her, tightening her chest, moistening her palms. She paced like a caged animal, knowing she should leave the castle to give Tomás a chance at happiness with another woman.
Her legs went watery, not allowing her to flee. Dizzy, she leaned against the cabinet and breathed hard, trying to think of a solution.
She kept failing.
“Señorita Beatriz,” Yolanda called out.
Beatriz raised her face. “What?”
“Señora Doña Isabella has something she needs you to see.”
Hopefully not another trunk the servants had left in the hall with more gowns and other jewels. She didn’t want to try on anything else but couldn’t stomach being rude, given Isabella’s dear support. Beatriz pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to give herself color. Looking like a corpse wouldn’t solve anything.
Outside the chamber, she reminded herself to smile. What she produced felt more like a grimace.
Yolanda stood on the far side of the landing, gesturing for Beatriz to join her.
Isabella wasn’t around. Juana must have needed her again. Whatever Yolanda was doing on her own was a mystery, unless the girl wanted to show off the gown to the other servants.
Fearing Leonor’s foul attitude and knife, Beatriz touched the gown prote
ctively.
The moment she reached the landing, Yolanda motioned for Beatriz to stop, then pointed to the stairs.
She looked down.
The world faded away, tension draining from her shoulders, warmth replacing worry.
Tomás stood at the bottom of the staircase, his arm on the railing, face lifted to hers. Candlelight turned his hair to gold. Respect, friendship, love sparkled in his eyes.
She ran down the steps. Tomás took them two at a time to reach her. They met in the middle and held each other, their embrace more powerful than any spoken vow. Whatever happened in the future, he would always have her love.
Tomás kissed her neck and cheek. “No words are sufficient to describe your beauty. The heat of the sun could never be greater, not even Spain will last as long, the finest rose pales in comparison. You are a marvel.”
Beatriz laughed softly. “Then you like Isabella’s gown?”
“On you, no one else.” He pressed his mouth to her ear. “Though I do prefer you naked. Say nothing to her, of course.”
“Of course.”
They descended the stairs, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. Fernando and Isabella stood to the side, smiling.
Beatriz stopped. “Wait.” She looked over. “Gracias, Yolanda. You helped me just as a personal maid should.”
She smiled widely.
“You can go to bed now. Take the chamber next to Don Tomás’s.” Beatriz had Señora Cisneros prepare the room.
Yolanda gaped. “Truly?”
“Truly.” Tomás shooed her away. “Go.”
“At once.” She bolted down the hall.
“What a delight she is.” Isabella beamed. “When you and Tomás visit us in the future, you must bring Yolanda along.”
Beatriz pressed against him, hoping they’d have a chance to share more days.
He embraced her gently. “What say we go to the parlor, have a sip of wine, and talk?”
* * * *
They discussed Beatriz’s father and Don Larnaz well into the night with each suggestion falling short of what Beatriz sensed would work.
Fernando and Isabella listened patiently to each objection, finally suggesting they should wait for Nuncio’s return before making any plans.