by G A Dazio
His heartbreak over the loss of his Marquesa, the sentence she had pronounced upon him, was more than he would bear. He simply would not love again; there would be no reason for love again. The taste of it would always sicken him. He had had his time of perfection, drinking his fill of that pleasure. His only option now was to put all that behind him, as he would also put behind him his legal studies. That was a career for another life. He would inform his parents that his time of fancy had come to an end, thankfully, and that he would resume the course of his life in literature. It was the only pleasure that Heaven would allow for him and he would not let Veronica Elena Fernández y Motas, nor the Marquesa de Amontoní, nor even his parents, influence his direction now.
As he found his way to the courtyard gate of his apartment building, Dídac had already prepared for the final event. Rousing his house steward from sleep, he ordered that preparations be made for a brief visit to his parents, waving away the man's concern for his having gone missing the night before.
The first rays of light struck the rooftop of his building when he stepped out again. Looking up to find the dark blue night sky that had disappeared, he walked quietly to the waiting hansom.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Marcelina was an almost spectral shade of white. The color was more than ever disturbing to Dolça, her lady’s maid, who had, after three hours of aiding the Marquesa, begun to perspire as dangerously as her patient. But in her pool of sweat, tinged with blood, Marcelina was growing alarmingly cold, and with this sickened chill came an intense and unrelenting pain throughout her body. The wrenching spasms that had begun this episode had long since passed, having drained her of much blood. The miscarriage was over. The bleeding, however, was not stopping as it had done naturally in the past. Marcelina did not need to see Dolça’s terrified look to know that she was bleeding dangerously. The lady’s maid dreaded realizing that she had not made any progress with her mistress. She labored all the more intensely to resolve the helpless situation.
Veronica had sat on a chair near the bed, out of Dolça’s way. She was trembling with the weight of the whole day. Her mind had ceased to attempt any sort of useful comprehension. She simply let a series of benign facts rotate before her: Dídac does not love me. Dídac slept with me in my bed. Dídac never wants to see me again. Aunt Marcelina had a miscarriage, yes, a miscarriage, that is what it was! Marcelina had been pregnant without allowing me to know she had taken on a new lover. Marcelina is growing gravely ill with the hemorrhage in her womb. Marcelina might die and I will have no one. No one. I have a list of family members somewhere to whom I am only slightly acquainted with, and that is to say I know their names and locations. I do not even have a fiancé with family to turn to. And the chances that I will not somehow fall into dishonor as a result of this is impossible.
“Veronica.”
A whisper sounded in the storm, drawing the girl back from those thoughts.
It was Marcelina who called to her.
Veronica rose to stand by the bed, unable to respond in any other manner. Dolça moved opposite of the girl, defeated and numb. The sound of the Marquesa’s voice was bringing tears to the nurse’s eyes, and with a horrible gush, they washed her round face, releasing a tortured sob. Her breaths came like the pain of a wounded animal.
“Veronica,” her aunt whispered again, opening her eyes to see that the girl was beside her. “Veronica, it’s over. Dolça won’t tell me so, but her eyes can’t hide the truth, and so she covers them.”
The girl could feel the structure of her own detachment disintegrating. In a surge, the indescribable pain of it all rushed up to overtake her. Her eyes, she thought, her aunt’s eyes had such a resigned despair. This would not resolve itself with anything short of the woman’s death. The nurse knew it and so did Marcelina. Somehow Veronica had known it too, she had known for hours now, known it without consciousness or words. It was a scent in the room, this death that she prepared herself for, having crept in through the window and swirled about the floor at her aunt’s feet, waiting for just one chance to rise up her legs and strike the final blow.
“Veronica, listen. You are a woman, more of a woman than I could've dreamed for you. I have taught you everything that can be learned without living a lifetime, and you are prepared to have a life that you want. My words will be with you, but you will be alone now, and I must release you to live your life. What has happened between you and Dídac has been my mistake, my own downfall. But it does not matter, any of it. You, dear, you are all that matters now. You must live your life, you must not hear any words but these I say. You must live your life as you would have it. There is no one who can stop you. No one who can turn you away from your heart. Oh, they will all try to stop you, but they are powerless.”
The Marquesa looked again at the older woman who had kept her confidence for more than fifteen years. The pain in the woman’s face was too much for her to reveal and she covered it with both hands as she wept.
“You must promise me that you will care for Dolça. No one has ever been more loyal in this world, and you must see to it to take her with you wherever you go. Care for her and comfort her, for none of this is her fault, and she suffers nevertheless.”
The Marquesa’s breathing was shallow and her eyes closed in fits as she tried to remain conscious for the girl.
“You must resolve yourself on the truths I’ve told you and follow the course it leads you on. Do this not for me and do this for yourself. You can have anything, Veronica, anything.”
Marcelina’s breaths came painfully now, as she suffered in her inability to say all that she wanted. The words could not come. Something more she must say, but her mind was losing its bearing and flying until she forgot who she was.
“I can’t remember anything else...it doesn’t matter. I love you.”
Veronica looked to her aunt in agony. Even the haze from her teared vision could not blur what she saw.
Marcelina was dead.
The late morning sun flooded the room with a painful light and a terrible silence that rang in Veronica's ears.
* * *
Veronica had sat by the bed for hours and it was near dark now. She had held her aunt’s hand for a long time, stroking the delicate white skin of her wrist as the day drew out.
Her thoughts were not as they had been, distant and unthreatening. Instead, she felt now the sharp point of every emotion. The feelings had mixed and magnified until they were one single sword that lanced her body in ceaseless little slashes.
She believed that she was lost, utterly blind and without a shred of hope. This was a catastrophe that should never have occurred. All of it seemed like a dream, some vicious flight of dream that would not allow her to move within it but kept her chained in a horrifying state of sensory deprivation.
Veronica had been left alone in her aunt’s bedroom with the body. No one had come yet to take her away, no one had come to tell her that she must let them take the body away. She did not know what she would have done if they had. She was grateful beyond reason not to have had the body taken from her. She would not have let go of it, had they come. She could not think of a worse fate than releasing her aunt's hand before the answer had come to her. Veronica had resigned herself to simply sit and wait for hope to return to her; the answer must come soon.
At last, a knock at the door sought her out of the darkness. Veronica could hear the shuffling of skirts and shoes in the exterior apartment. They must not come yet, she thought, I haven’t been given the answer yet.
She held to the strength of the silence. Her silence alone might have the power in it to stop them from entering. But this was folly, for in but a moment of hesitation, someone had entered the room behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Three days passed like centuries. Father Mateu had come to the townhouse before she had left for Castell de Amontoní to discuss the matters of the Marquesa’s funeral. The girl gave her ascent to everything he said, nodding from the t
errible numbness that had taken residence in her soul. The event would take place in the cathedral within a fortnight, and she could trust him to manage everything with the Marquesa’s attorneys. When he had moved to leave her, Veronica had rushed to him and hugged him. The priest was taken back by the gesture, but he allowed the child the time she needed to hold him before quietly moving on.
Returning to Castell de Amontoní, where hundreds of condolences came from throughout the city, Veronica wondered if the news had yet spread beyond Barcelona, and what might come from the remainder of Spain and the outside world. She had always known of and understood her aunt’s celebrity, but had not grasped the scope of her role until the Marquesa’s attorneys had requested an audience with Veronica.
They had come to the house after mid-morning on the third day, an army of seven men, all of whom retained a single client, the noble House of Amontoní. Somber would not do them justice, for these men presented themselves before their lady’s niece with an underlying tension in the eyes that represented utter horror. No doubt, they had already heard rumors from their own private sources that this girl’s engagement with the youngest son of Don Ferrero had been called off. They likely had found the notion of settling the business at hand with a barely sixteen-year-old girl, who was not even married and had no family to be consulted with in this affair, to be utterly horrifying. In their present actions was their future, and after a career of serving a single house with no true heir, they had settled themselves to take charge of the situation and inform the young child what it was they expected her to do.
“There is an urgent manner before us,” the head of the panel began, shortly after delivering a customary dialogue of condolences and apologies for burdening her at a time like this. “In the months before her passing, your aunt had seen to it that all possible precautions were taken to ensure her estate would be settled before you were to be married three years from now.”
Veronica did not react to this statement in any way that was threatening to the gentlemen, but merely held her concentrated gaze at them, allowing them the opportunity to say all that was of the utmost importance to them. Indeed, she would hear everything they had to say without resistance.
“I must ask you, though, to settle one issue for us. We have heard speculation that your engagement with Dídac Ferrero has been called off. Will you tell us now if this is true?”
“Yes, we are no longer engaged to be married, señor,” she consented to him without a moment’s pause. There was silence in the long seconds after she announced this, as Veronica allowed the men to well ingest the state of affairs. “Then, as your future is no longer set,” the middle-aged man continued, “it is with the utmost urgency that we settle these matters for you.”
A somber shuffling commenced among the group as they produced documentation that was handed to this man, Señor Rios, who spoke for them.
“The Marquesa had concentrated our efforts in the past year towards securing her estate into the hands of your union with young Señor Ferrero, but as that is no longer a factor in our efforts, I must revert to the previous design, which addresses our situation now. The Marquesa had settled a wide series of parameters for her estate should, upon her death, her daughter, I mean yourself, be left as primary beneficiary.
Veronica did not understand why he would refer to her as the woman’s daughter and thought he must surely have misspoken. The twisted furrow of her brow caught the man unprepared and he paused.
“It certainly does not come as a surprise to you that your aunt named you as her heir? There is a very sizable inheritance left to your sister in Madrid, as well, but as…”
“Why did you call me her daughter?” Veronica interrupted the man.
Señor Rios was caught off guard by the inquiry, not understanding the purpose of her words? “Of course, the Marquesa served to legally adopt you last summer after the passing of her sister. Forgive me if it is upsetting that I refer to you in this way. I can understand how it might be distressing… I apologize, I was simply speaking of your legal status in these matters.”
“She adopted me?” the girl gazed at him with doubt.
Señor Rios looked to Veronica now with concern. “Yes, of course. Certainly, you are aware of this action and agreed to it.” It was not a question but a statement.
Veronica did not respond, but let the men sit and draw similar conclusions that they dared not utter. The ramifications of this child not knowing of her guardianship being obtained by the Marquesa was unthinkable. The woman had provided the child’s signature of assent to Señor Rios and clearly acknowledged Veronica’s agreement.
“It is I who must ask your forgiveness, Señor. I am not myself today.” She staved off tears, weary from these awful days and the man’s baffling words and looked down at her hands for a moment until the pain tempered before raising her eyes to address him. “Thank you for your patience. May I ask you, would you explain to me why my aunt chose to adopt me? It is a moving gesture, certainly, but I cannot see the point of it. There’s not a doubt in my mind that she would have left me with security, regardless. Does it somehow make your duties easier?”
“The succession, my lady. Becoming your aunt’s child was necessary for the succession of her title to pass to you upon her death. Well, it was but the first part. There was also the agreement of Her Majesty, Queen Isabella, that the title would be transferred not only to your heirs, but that it would be entitled to Señor Ferrero after you were wed, and naturally after your aunt had entered mortality, that he should become the Marqués de Amontoní. Of course, as you will not be joining with young Ferrero, and you have been made the new Marquesa de Amontoní, that does not matter now. In this case, we are only obligated to complete the transference of the estate to yourself and discuss how it must be further transferred upon your own eventual passing.”
Veronica sat in perfect cold silence, staring at the man’s eyes. She stopped being able to see clearly before he yet finished but continued to hear his words as her eyes failed. The girl was at a loss to fathom how all this could have been made to come to pass.
“This is possible?” asked Veronica, emotionless, more so of herself than Señor Rios.
“It is certainly not usual, but there is precedent for adoption to be used in cases where a nobility is in danger of dissolution due to the absence of heirs. Your aunt had long been elusive on the matter, and I dare say it was not of much great concern to her, if I may be so indelicate. But as you were orphaned… do forgive me for speaking of you in this way… but the event changed the Marquesa’s outlook on the matter, and she employed our services to ensure that it would be done. It was not much for us to complete your adoption, but, of course, this all lay with the Crown, in whose judgement all such matters rest. Really, it is in Her authority to make or break any one of us as she pleases. Happily, Her Majesty approved of the Marquesa’s request, and so the matter is done.”
Veronica stared at the man for a long while, waiting for some untold answer to come to her in the last second that might give her reason to renounce his explanation, but none came. “What will this entail? I mean, will I have to travel to be presented?”
“It will be necessary at some point, I imagine. And there will, no doubt, be requirements made upon you for appearances of various types. And, of course, you will serve at the pleasure of the Crown in whatever capacities you may be called upon for. And neither I nor these gentlemen would be the person who will relay that information to you when the time eventually comes. But this is certainly not a moment when any of that need burden you. For now, we will simply guide you through the process of designing the estate’s future and ensure its survival. It is quite an undertaking, as I’m sure you can imagine. The House of Amontoní is more than four centuries old, and even if we are able to keep your aunt’s designs largely intact, I’m afraid this will all exhaust your patience in little time.”
The girl nodded to the man gently, allowing the changes to wash over her.
�
��My men and I wish to be of whatever service we can. I will not skirt around the fact that you are very young and may not feel you are ready for this responsibility. Please understand, I do not mean that in any way as a slight, for it is not. You will likely spend your life learning these matters, and though your aunt certainly never expected to leave you with this burden before you were ready, if at all, I want you to know that she professed a great confidence in you. I can assure you that we will remain faithfully by your side through all of this.”
Veronica knew that what the man had said to her was true, and to be now in his guidance brought her no small measure of confidence that she would survive this week. “Thank you, señor.” Relief welled up at his kindness. “I thank all of you.”
“Thank you, my lady. I knew your aunt from before you were born, and I can say without reservation that the Marquesa would have been proud of your courage in this matter.”
Veronica smiled after much thought on this and addressed him now with a certain purpose.
“Is that all then? Should we begin on the task at hand?”
“Very good, my lady, if you are ready…”
“Before we begin, a couple of things,” she interrupted him.