Salvador laughed. ‘We Spaniards are masters in the language of love, is that not so, mi amor?’ He picked up Alexandra’s hand and kissed it before turning to his daughter. ‘So he’s not arrogant and insufferable now!’ Irony twisted his lips and Luz blushed and looked away.
Yes, but he is manipulative, she thought.
Handsome, successful and manipulative – that was her verdict. No doubt leagues of pining women queued outside the door to his heart. Yes, she would have dinner with him, but not immediately. Andrés de Calderón was used to his wishes being granted at the snap of his fingers. She was not one of his enslaved admirers. She would not rush to his command – let him stew for a while.
CHAPTER 4
The architecture of El Pavón, the de Fallas’ ancestral home, was defined by function and tradition. It had a local style with a touch of neoclassical inspiration that gave the hacienda a look of prosperity, permanence and grandeur. The sun-drenched old house stood on copper-tinted soil, surrounded by hibiscus, begonias and oleanders, and was approached by an avenue of stooping willows. Solid and sedate it lay in its eclectic landscape of manicured lawns, exuberant foliage, fruit orchards and noble trees. The whitewashed walls wore shawls of bougainvillea, wisteria and mimosa, their vivid colours softening its severe lines during most months of the year. On arrival, the first impression was of green and red and white, punctuated here and there with yellow. Through the years nature and man had joined forces to create a strangely seductive combination of voluptuous beauty and austerity. It had atmosphere and, generation after generation, the edifice continued to live up to its name: El Pavón, the peacock.
After his great-aunt Doña María Dolores had passed away, Salvador and Alexandra had taken over the hacienda. The couple decided to leave the core of the house intact. It was a palace in miniature, with marble floors and rich but worn silk hangings, dark brown furniture and heavy Persian rugs. Though Alexandra loved the aura of past history that permeated El Pavón, its brooding spirit depressed her. She preferred contemporary furniture and light airy spaces. So Salvador built a new wing and gave his wife carte blanche to decorate it in her own style, so she could give it her personal touch and furnish it to her own taste.
Luz had always preferred to stay in this new part of the house as well, finding the rest of the hacienda strangely claustrophobic, despite its great size. The sprawling, colourful grounds of El Pavón were her favourite part and her parents had succeeded in enhancing their secret allure and making them their own. At the request of Alexandra, Salvador even had a small lake dug out beyond the back gardens in a beautiful spot surrounded by lilac trees. To escape the hacienda, Luz often walked down to the lake on warm afternoons and lazed on the bench there with a book.
Leaning against her bedroom balcony, Luz looked out on to the garden, which seemed to dream in the declining day. She had arrived from Cádiz with her parents the day before to help them oversee the finishing touches to the masked ball. There were only a few hours before the guests arrived, but for now she wanted to savour this magical hour when El Pavón looked its best. Her bedroom was at the back of the house, the view from there dominated by the more private and shaded areas of the hacienda: Alexandra and Salvador’s creation. Here, cool rose-scented walks mingled with wrought-iron gateways framed by honeysuckle and old fountains with gently murmuring water splashing or f lowing lazily into stone-edged ponds. In the distance, over the high walls of the property, the lights of Jerez were beginning to twinkle. Luz’s eyes moved from one beautiful aspect to another. Roses, begonias and evergreen shrubs were everywhere. A soft, warm evening breeze touched her, stirring her long, silky black hair. After the heat of the day, the cool air was refreshing. The heady aroma of f lowers released by dusk aroused a sort of excitement within her.
Year after year since her eighteenth birthday, she had attended the El Pavón traditional masked ball but never before had she experienced such a feeling of anticipation. Tonight would be the stuff of fairy tales as her ancestral home was transformed into an enchanted world of swirling colours, twinkling lights and sweeping music, where anything could happen.
Luz had welcomed the comforting presence of her parents at L’Estrella over the past week and her mind was easier than it had been for a while. Yet as the hour of the ball approached and the power of its spell started to gather, she was aware of a sensation of longing still budding within her.
She thought of Leandro and Andrés, two men who only a few weeks earlier had been strangers to her and, since then, had filled her mind. Would Andrés show up tonight and would she recognize him? she wondered. For some reason he had been particularly enthused by the idea of a masked ball, though his infuriating habit of playing games perhaps made that hardly surprising, she concluded. Yes, Andrés de Calderón would play his part in a masquerade with relish. In her mind’s eye, she could still see the soft mockery that had flashed in those dark velvety irises and deep down she knew that if he did honour them with his presence, he would do his utmost to mystify her at every turn.
Though she had sent him a brief note to thank him for the roses, she had refused his invitation to dinner. She wondered how he would have reacted to that. Luz could usually read people, but she had no clue as to this man’s thoughts. He was dangerously attractive, she realized that, but did she like him? Something in her rebelled against his arrogant treatment of her. One moment she was being rigorously interviewed, the next, almost wooed; by turns she had been charmed, enraged and perplexed. Flirtation was a duel of wits for Andrés, a sport for his amusement. The man was egotistical, complicated and maddening. Still, she could not deny feeling a certain piquancy in his presence, which, though disquieting at times, was also oddly thrilling.
She frowned at the thought. Her reaction to him had been an aberration, she decided, and one that she had no intention of repeating. In fact after tonight, she concluded, it would be extreme folly to see Andrés de Calderón more than was absolutely necessary in the course of researching Eduardo’s biography.
Luz watched as an eagle circled high in the sky before diving for some invisible prey in the dusky air. Her thoughts turned to Leandro, the gypsy with the deep, soft voice and the mesmerizing eyes. Emotion welled up in her. A stab of pain shot through her heart as she thought back to the horse fair and to the redheaded gitana with her arm around him, obviously claiming him as her man. He had not disengaged from her and Luz had taken the hint. But what was she to think? That afternoon on the beach she was sure she hadn’t misread the turbulent undercurrents of passion in his fiery gaze and then, when they had talked at the fair, the desire in his eyes as he flirted with her was obvious. The memory of it stirred her with a sudden acuteness that made something flutter and blaze bright near her heart.
A knot formed in her throat. Surely she wasn’t going to let the gypsy’s magnetism weave its spell over her? Wasn’t this just the way of the gitanos? She swallowed hard. It was only a sexual attraction, mere hormones at play. Anyway, as she’d already told herself, nothing could ever come of such a relationship. The gypsies’ world was not hers; she must put Leandro and his people out of her mind.
Luz looked up at the darkening, violet sky as an opalescent moon floated into view from behind a cloud. Still, she thought wistfully, had he been free and truly wanted her, she would not have denied herself the chance of love simply because he was a gypsy; she would have fought anyone and anything for her happiness.
There was a knock at the door. Luz sighed quietly and moved away from the balcony. ‘Come in,’ she called, walking back into her bedroom.
The door opened and Agustina, the old housekeeper at El Pavón, came in, carrying a shimmering costume which she ceremoniously laid out on the bed as if it were a sacred robe. ‘Buenas tardes, Doña Luz, I have brought your outfit for tonight’s ball.’
‘How very kind of you, Agustina, but that’s Valentina’s job. You shouldn’t be climbing all those stairs, you’re disobeying doctor’s orders,’ she remonstrated sweetly as she g
ave the old servant a hug.
‘Iay! Doctors!’ Agustina gave a dismissive wave. ‘And Valentina does what I tell her,’ she added with a twinkle in her eye.
Agustina had been with the family for two generations and, in her elevated role in the house, had come to know and love both Alexandra and Salvador with a fierce loyalty. Though in her early seventies, she still had the same matronly figure of her middle age years and a round, serene face with barely a wrinkle. Her eyes were still vivacious and held a sharpness belying her age. Luz had always admired her hair, which in her youth, she guessed, must have been raven black and was now a lustrous white, held in the nape of her neck by a net and a wide tortoiseshell comb.
Agustina smiled kindly and took Luz’s arm, her dark pupils gazing up earnestly at the young woman. ‘This costume is very special, as your mother must have told you. It was the dress of a genuine Moorish sultana. Doña Alexandra wore it the night she met your father. I helped her dress for the ball on that evening and I would like to do the same today for you. This is a family heirloom, which is very dear to your parents. Now you’re back in Spain for good and making your home here, it’s time you had it.’
Though Luz was not accustomed to being pampered in such a way – in fact, she actively disliked anyone hovering around her while she was dressing – she didn’t have the heart to turn the duenna away.
‘That’s a lovely idea,’ she said, trying to sound enthusiastic as she moved to the bathroom. ‘Let me have a shower, and I’ll be right with you.’
‘Si, si, tómese su tiempo, take your time, I will sit for a minute. It’s true, my old legs aren’t as strong as they were,’ replied Agustina, lowering herself slowly into a chair.
Ten minutes later Luz reappeared clad in a white bath towel. Agustina smiled as the young woman came into the room.
‘You have the best features from each of your parents,’ she declared, surveying her with affection.
She invited Luz to sit at the dressing table in front of the mirror. ‘I will first dry your hair and then give it Agustina’s special treatment,’ she declared as she removed the towelling turban wrapped around the young woman’s head.
‘Yours is a different beauty to your mother’s … it is more exotic and mysterious,’ she said, ‘so for tonight I may let your hair fall loosely down your back. It is lush and heavy like your great-grandmother’s and should be seen in all its glory. Will you trust me to bring out the best so that when I have finished every woman at the ball will be envious?’ She patted Luz’s shoulder and her smile uncovered two rows of perfect teeth.
Luz nodded enthusiastically as the old housekeeper’s still dextrous fingers threaded expertly through strands of silken black hair. Suddenly she felt light-hearted, getting into the spirit of the whole event.
‘Do as you please, Agustina,’ she replied, ‘I’m entirely in your hands.’
At this she relaxed and let her imagination run free. She was a princess in this beautiful castle and perhaps tonight fate would steer her away from its recent thorny path and she would meet her Prince Charming. Wasn’t that what had happened to her mother almost thirty years ago?
Without delay, the duenna began massaging Luz’s scalp, applying strange creams and oils, drying, brushing, combing. Before becoming the housekeeper at El Pavón, Agustina had been personal maid to Doña María Dolores, Alexandra’s grandmother. In her youth the Duquesa had possessed the lushest and most beautiful head of hair and Agustina was accustomed to dressing and handling long hair. She worked swiftly and expertly.
Suddenly, as the buzzing of the hairdryer ceased, Luz thought she could hear the thud of distant drumbeats. At first she assumed the musicians had arrived early and were practising for the ball but, as it went on and she listened carefully, she realized these were not the melodious tones of a fully fledged orchestra, but a more monotonous, repetitive thumping that seemed to flow continuously like an endless river of sound.
‘What’s that sound?’ she asked. ‘It’s an odd sort of dull, throbbing beat. Can you hear it?’
Luz felt Agustina’s hands jerk slightly. Without lifting her head or pausing, the housekeeper shrugged. ‘Oh, don’t take any notice,’ she said a little too dismissively.
That sort of evasiveness irritated Luz and was enough to alert her curiosity. ‘Come on, Agustina.’ she coaxed. ‘I’ve not heard drums like that at El Pavón before. It sounds more like some African or South American jungle ritual …’
‘I don’t know anything about jungle rituals. The only thing clear to me at this moment is that you should not be moving your head,’ came the stern answer.
Suddenly Luz burst out laughing, the crystal-clear notes filling the room. ‘Of course! Why hadn’t I thought of it before? Gypsies! The gypsies are having their own party at the bottom of the garden. Isn’t that so, Agustina? And you didn’t want me to get on to the subject. What’s wrong with you all? As soon as the word “gypsy” is in the air, everybody gets into a tizzy.’
‘And quite rightly so,’ Agustina said grimly, as though to herself.
Luz raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Why? I’ve met a couple of gypsies who have been really kind to me.’
‘Nothing good can come from these people if you aren’t one of them.’
‘Agustina, why be so pessimistic?’ Luz sighed. ‘It’s probably that sort of prejudice that makes them unfriendly.’
‘As the saying goes: “The believer is happy, the doubter is wise.” To be a pessimist is to be clear headed, my child, and often that comes with experience.’
‘Please, what does that mean, exactly? Have the gypsies ever harmed you or any of your loved ones?’ There was a note of impatience in Luz’s tone.
Agustina shook her head regretfully. ‘I prefer not to talk about this. In life, one must know when to let sleeping dogs lie. There is no good in stirring up old grievances and in this case it is most important that you should leave well alone. And you should certainly not consort with them. These are hot-blooded people, they are ruled by customs and traditions that we will never understand. God knows what they will start if you rub them up the wrong way.’
Luz listened in silence. She had heard those words so many times before she found them tedious. True, it was probably sensible advice; still, for Luz, this made the subject only more interesting.
‘I met an old gypsy the other day who told me that she knew my parents. Her name is Paquita. Do you know her?’ She tried to sound casual. Whether Agustina wanted to or not, she was now talking and Luz spotted her chance to probe further.
Agustina’s hands paused. ‘What else did the old hag say?’ the housekeeper muttered under her breath, echoing Alexandra’s words of a few weeks earlier.
‘She said that a great love awaits me.’
‘Did she now? Don’t you know that’s the yarn they all spin to get your attention? Sometimes I wonder at how gullible you can be.’
Luz ignored her and persisted stubbornly. ‘Did she have a hand in my parents meeting?’
‘Nonsense, child!’ Agustina broke out with swift irritation.
The old servant was not prone to outbursts of discourtesy to her employers and, unlike Carmela, was very conscious of her place – even though she had always been considered to be a confidante and a friend by the family – but she regarded it as her duty to counsel and protect its members. A look of something akin to worry crossed her face before she spoke, but then she fixed Luz with a steady gaze before her hands resumed their work on the young woman’s hair.
‘Your parents, Doña Luz, met in this house – they are, as you well know, distant cousins. They were fated to meet and fall in love. Both young and handsome, it was bound to happen. Their love affair and marriage had nothing to do with the gitanos. If anything, it occurred despite those people and trust me when I tell you that was not for lack of trying on the part of the gypsies. Now, are you satisfied? I’ve said too much already, and you will not get a word more out of me on the subject.’
Luz smi
led and wrinkled her nose in appeasement. ‘Dear Agustina, don’t be cross. Isn’t it normal that I should be interested in my parents’ romance?’
Agustina regarded her indulgently, but replied without mincing her words. ‘Don’t try and hoodwink me, child,’ she said shortly. ‘Like most people who are ignorant of those tribes and their ways, you are attracted to them. And I know you, Doña Luz … You find them mysterious and romantic, yes? They have the beguiling scent of the unknown with a spicy undercurrent that spells danger. You are young and the young are often foolish … I trust you are not so. And now, I must stop lecturing – we should get on with dressing you.’
Luz could see that she would not get anything more out of the stubborn housekeeper on this occasion and chuckled. ‘All right, you win, Agustina. I’ll say no more, I promise.’
Luz’s abundant hair was now a shining mass of tumbling jet-black waves. Agustina had artistically threaded a handful of tiny iridescent pearls through it, which caught the light with every movement. It formed the most luscious, bejewelled mantle around the young woman’s bare shoulders and fell all the way to her hips. The effect was stunning.
‘Oh, Agustina, you have such magic fingers,’ Luz cried out with delight as she leapt from her stool and surveyed herself in the cheval mirror that had once stood in her mother’s dressing room. ‘I love the effect of those seed-like beads you’ve woven into my hair.’ She ran her palms over them. ‘Shall I put on my make-up now or after I’ve dressed?’
‘It would be wiser if you did that now – you don’t want to get any on the garment, it’s very delicate,’ the housekeeper warned.
Luz applied some blush to her cheekbones and a little gloss to her lips. She had clear, luminous skin, which the sea air and sun had turned a golden honey, and her features were fine. Nature had been generous and Luz needed little embellishment from make-up. She concentrated on her eyes, intensifying their natural sapphire blue and giving them a sensuous, smoky oriental look with kohl. In an effort to enhance the enigmatic and mysterious effect, she paid special attention to her eyelashes, which were already thick and naturally long.
Masquerade Page 12