Nightsong

by Valerie Sherwood

  ‘How can you be sure he’ll keep giving you things?’ Carolina said in a tired voice.

  ‘Oh, he will,’ Penny told her confidently. ‘He will, Carol. Wait till I start withholding my favours - he’ll dig deep into Constanza’s jewel box then!’

  ‘Or perhaps he’ll just get out his riding whip and suggest you mend your manners,’ warned Carolina. ‘Women don’t count for much here, you know!’

  Penny laughed. ‘Women like us will always count, Carol, wherever we go. And if the governor doesn’t think so, he has much to learn!’

  She swept out laughing, and Carolina thought. That’s all right for you to say, for you care nothing for the governor. He’s only a pawn to you and could be replaced tomorrow and never missed. But I love Kells - and I will always love him. For me there will never be anyone else.

  She wandered about the room feeling desolate, wounded by life.

  How could all this have happened to me? she asked herself in bewilderment. And a hurt voice deep inside asked, Why can he not believe me? When all I want to do is save his life?

  She picked up the remnants of her torn gown and took it downstairs. Perhaps Luz could mend it after all . . . But there were some things that could never be mended. And perhaps the human heart was one of those . . .

  Luz took the dress from her sullenly. Luz had hoped to become lady’s maid to the governor’s daughter and so acquire status in the governor’s household - not maid to a mistress who would soon be a castoff, for surely Don Diego would come to his senses and realize that the governor’s daughter Marina would come willingly to his bed. Ah, it would be a great marriage, thought Luz. And she herself should have the honour of dressing the bride - and would have, too, had she not been snatched away before she could sufficiently impress Marina with her worth. Snatched away to be scullery maid to this flaunting foreigner!

  She gave Carolina a curious look, for she had seen Don Diego depart in haste looking like a thundercloud.

  Carolina turned away from that look. She found Luz’s constant unfriendly curiosity insupportable today.

  She walked to the window and stood looking out.

  Somewhere to the north, past Havana harbour, past the Straits of Florida, past the Bahamas, lay the American Colonies . . . and Virginia’s Tidewater . . . and Level Green.

  She was suddenly terribly homesick.

  She wondered if her mother knew about the earthquake.

  ✷ ✷ ✷

  It would not have comforted Carolina to learn that her mother had heard - brutally and publicly - about the disaster only last week.

  Indeed Letitia Lightfoot and her husband Fielding had been dining with friends at the Raleigh Tavern in Williamsburg when the big booming voice of a sea captain, just entering the Tavern’s Apollo Room, had announced that Port Royal, Jamaica, had sunk beneath the sea.

  ‘Whole town’s gone,’ he had told his companions gloomily. ‘Lost with all souls. Earthquake shook it down, water came over the houses - it was built on sand, y’know. And it slid under the waves, it did.’

  He was unprepared for the effect his words had on the reed-slender woman in lilac satin who suddenly rose from the next table, her face gone white.

  ‘Did you say lost with all souls, sir?’ she demanded sharply.

  The captain, who had been some time at sea, basked in the sudden interest of the loveliest woman in the room. He was but repeating the first wild rumours that had circulated about the earthquake.

  ‘All dead,’ he told her gravely. ‘The entire city gone. Fell into the sea, it did, after the first great shock. Fell in layers, I’m told. The waterfront first, then swallowed up street by street.’

  And Carolina’s tall brick house was close upon that ‘swallowed up’ waterfront! Carolina, her favourite daughter. Carolina, too like herself - too rebellious, too reckless, always destined for disaster.

  And now she had found it.

  Letitia Lightfoot swayed like a flower caught in a strong wind and collapsed into the arms of an alarmed Fielding, who leapt forward to catch his wife.

  It was one more story to make the rounds of Williamsburg gossip. The Lightfoots were the talk of the town again!

  Back home at Level Green, Letitia Lightfoot put on mourning. But that did not deter her from going into Williamsburg to visit Aunt Pet, and the sight of her in black caused another stir.

  ‘I don’t think Carolina would want you to wear black for her,’ Petula told Letitia even as she dabbed at her eyes, for she had loved reckless Carolina, too. ‘She loved gaiety and life too much for that.’

  ’You are right,’ Letitia said calmly. ‘Mourning does not become me. I am going home to take it right off!’

  When next she appeared in Williamsburg she was wearing amethyst silk above a rustling royal-purple petticoat. Again she caused a stir.

  ‘You are making a spectacle of yourself, Letty,’ complained Fielding. ‘Mourning on, mourning off.’

  His wife turned on him, dark blue eyes blazing. ‘You would do well to wear a black arm band yourself, Field! For it is the diamond and ruby necklace Carolina sent us that has enabled you to pay off all your debts and to commission that new wing for the house!’

  Fielding had the grace to look abashed. ‘Carolina has been a good daughter to you,’ he mumbled. ‘I can’t fault her.'

  ‘To us.!’ Letitia cried in an impassioned voice. ‘She has been a good daughter to us, Field! She has always honoured you!’

  A dark red flush spread across his strong features. He gave his wife a look of baffled rage, jammed on his hat and strode for the door.

  But the next time he was seen in Williamsburg, seated in an open carriage beside Letitia, he was grimly wearing a black arm band. Heads high, they drove along Duke of Gloucester Street, nodding to friends as they passed.

  Letty is parading Field through the town in triumph, thought Petula in alarm. And for the loss of a daughter not his own!

  Once again the Williamsburg gossips had a field day.

  Carolina, lost in homesickness, knew nothing of the turmoil her death had caused in the Tidewater. She started as she heard Luz’s faintly taunting voice behind her.

  ‘Juana will want to know, do we set the table for one or for two tonight? Will Don Diego be coming home for dinner?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ muttered Carolina. Then, ‘But of course you must set a place for him - after all, it is his table. He should find a place set for him should he return.’

  Suddenly she could not bear the girl’s malicious stare. She turned and went back upstairs.

  Slowly the afternoon passed and the golden light deepened as the shadows lengthened and turned to violet. The rooftops of Havana turned from terra cotta to crimson in the last burst of a red sunset. And then it was night, the swift, scented night of the tropics when the palm fronds swayed sensuously beneath a white sliver of moon.

  And still he had not come.

  Carolina forced herself to go down and eat a lonely dinner. At least she picked at her food and sent compliments out to the kitchen to Juana for preparing it so well.

  Afterward she walked restlessly about the courtyard, pausing to lean against the pillars and stare at the tinkling fountain, making its gentle music endlessly. Above her the stars winked from the heavens like scattered diamonds. From somewhere night birds called softly to each other, and from down the street a man’s wistful voice wailed a lover’s lament to some bright-eyed girl behind the iron grillework of her bedroom. A serenade to a lady . . .

  Carolina could feel the magic, and her heart and her body yearned for her own lover.

  And still he did not come.

  She walked the empty courtyard until she was tired. All the servants had gone to bed. Around her Havana slept.

  And still he did not come.

  She went to bed at last, wondering where he was - and if he was alone. Was he carousing in the taverns? Or had he found a woman? Was he toasting her in wine, smiling town into her dark eyes, carrying her off to bed in some upst
airs room?

  Such thoughts kept her wide-eyed and awake, staring out through the grillework at an uncaring moon that rode the night sky.

  At last, worn out with love and fury and disappointment, she slept.

  She was wakened by Luz and opened her eyes to find the morning sun streaming in through her windows.

  Luz held out the dress that had been so badly torn yesterday. ‘It is mended,’ she said, and Carolina sensed the resentment in her voice and manner.

  ‘Good. I will try it on, Luz.’ She leapt out of bed, wondering if Kells was already downstairs having breakfast. The thought goaded her. ‘It must be late,’ she said. ‘Here, help me dress, won’t you?’ She was pulling on her light chemise as she spoke for she had slept naked in the warm tropical night.

  Silently Luz held out the mended dress for her to put on.

  ‘Has Don Diego already breakfasted?’ asked Carolina as Luz slipped the red voile dress over her head.

  Luz shook her head. ‘Don Diego is still asleep,’ she said. And Juana has given us orders to be quiet and not wake him for Miguel came by this morning and said that Don Diego had got very drunk last night and had near wrecked a tavern.

  So she had been right! thought Carolina. He had gone out and drowned his anger in wine. Somehow the thought was less wounding than if Luz had said he had near wrecked a brothel.

  ‘Miguel said he had a wench on each arm and was serenading them both when he saw him,’ added Luz and Carolina winced. ‘Don Diego is a devil with the wenches,’ added Luz spitefully.

  Carolina managed to ignore the girl by studying her mended gown in the mirror. Luz had done a disastrous job with her needle. The sleeves were now sewn in so tightly she could hardly move her arms, the darts were crooked, and the stitches showed where the torn hem had been mended. Yet Luz was an expert sempstress - Carolina had viewed her work!

  ‘Help me off with the dress, Luz,’ she told the girl sternly. ‘And take it apart and stitch it up again. It won’t do the way it is.’

  Luz almost jerked the gown from Carolina’s back. She flounced away - but not before Carolina told her to bring her up a bath.

  It was a delight to sink into the warm water and bathe her body with scented soap. She lingered long in that bath for she was sure that he would be long asleep after his hard night.

  In that she was mistaken.

  She was still in her tub when she heard the door knocker bang downstairs.

  That would be the governor’s daughter, she thought irritably, sending in a servant to inquire if Don Diego would not escort her and her duena on a drive about the city! She struck the water rather hard with her sponge and felt it splash. Kells would soon set the girl straight!

  Still she found herself hurrying with her bath, for someone had probably waked him with Marina’s message and he might be downstairs breakfasting even now.

  She dressed herself in the clothes Penny had brought her.

  I look more ready for riding than for breakfast! she thought as she ran downstairs on her high red heels.

  Luz sat in the courtyard where the light was brightest, pulling out stitches from the red voile. She looked up as Carolina’s footsteps rang across the tiles.

  ‘I heard the knocker,’ said Carolina.

  ‘Yes,’ mumbled Luz.

  ‘Well, who was it, Luz?’

  Luz gave her a spiteful look. ‘It was a carriage come to pick up Don Diego.’

  Carolina sighed. ‘And did he go?’

  ‘Oh, yes, at once,’ Luz said in mock innocence.

  Plainly Penny’s affair with Marina’s father had not distracted the girl enough!

  ‘I will have breakfast now, Luz,’ said Carolina. And then, just to verify, she added, ‘It was the governor’s carriage, wasn’t it?’

  ‘That came to pick up Don Diego?’ Luz’s heavy dark brows rose in feigned surprise. ‘Why, no, it was the Menendez carriage that called for him, and he dashed out right away and leapt into it.’

  The Menendez carriage! Doña Jimena had sent for her Don Diego and her Don Diego had come running! Carolina felt as if a bucket of cold water had just been thrown in her face. Of young Marina she was not at all jealous, for she knew that Kells regarded her as tiresome, but beautiful dark-eyed Doña Jimena was quite another matter. Carolina was wildly jealous of her!

  She stood with her back very stiff for a moment and outside she heard the sound of horses clip-clopping by decorously. The sound gave her an idea - a wonderful vengeful idea.

  ‘Luz,’ she said, choosing her words with care, ‘while I am breakfasting, I want you to go over to El Morro. Tell the commander, Don Ramon del Mundo, that I regret having been absent all those times he has called. Tell him that I find myself free today and that I would be pleased to ride out with him if he so desires. Tell him that, Luz.’

  Luz leapt up, eyes aglow. There was trouble brewing, she could feel it in the air. Trouble that might bring her back to the governor’s palace where she belonged. Oh, she would deliver the message, all right, for it was sure to have repercussions. If Don Ramon was not at El Morro she would follow his trail about the town until she found him! Indeed she could hardly wait!

  ‘Go quickly, Luz,’ Carolina said in an expressionless voice.

  And then after Luz had left, she again studied the tinkling fountain as she had last night. So much had happened, it seemed, in the space of a night and a day. Bitterly she remembered Kells’s words to her just before he had stomped out: I will find me a Spanish wench to share my bed!

  And now he had gone to Doña Jimena ... It was a deep wound, with the point well and truly driven home.

  But she would stagger up from the sand. She would find herself a new love. She would not live in this limbo! If Kells could not love her, she would find a man who could!

  Old Juana, who looked in on her at breakfast, thought she saw a dangerous light gleaming in her mistress’s eyes.

  Don Ramon del Mundo, found behind the forbidding walls of El Morro, reacted swiftly to the message brought by Luz. Within the hour he cantered up to the house on the Plaza de Armas on a big black stallion. He was leading a white Arabian mare who tossed her mane and tail in the sunlight. Don Ramon had a look of triumph on his swarthy countenance for he had almost given Carolina up, so many times had he been turned away from her door. And now, by heaven, she had sent for him! He carried his shoulders with a slight swagger as he dismounted and banged the big iron knocker.

  Carolina herself answered the door. She gave him a winning smile and a curtsy that swept the tiles. ‘But you are here so quickly, Don Ramon!’

  His gaze passed over her in leisurely fashion. ‘Yet I find you already dressed for riding,’ he observed.

  ‘Ah, that is true - save for my shoes. These high heels will have to do. No’ - she held up her hand, laughing - ‘I refuse to visit your bootmaker again, Don Ramon. I have a sudden urge to visit the countryside - not a stuffy bootmaker’s shop.’

  So she wished to go out in the country where they would be alone! The tawny eyes lit up. It was what he desired, of course, but he expected her to insist upon riding decorously around Havana.

  She snatched up her hat, settled it firmly upon her fair hair. ‘I will not keep you waiting, Don Ramon.’ She turned to Luz who lurked nearby. ‘Should Don Diego return, tell him I have ridden out with Don Ramon,’ she said carelessly.

  She saw Luz’s eyes gleam. There was no doubt that Luz would deliver that message. The girl hated her! And at that moment Carolina was almost glad.

  Don Ramon del Mundo led her proudly through Havana, past the handsome rococo buildings with their red tile roofs, past the iron grillework balconies that jutted out over the street - and as they rode, he talked.

  He told her with an arrogant wave of his hand who lived here and who lived there - and regaled her with interesting stories about them. And gradually the white walls disappeared, melted into adobe shacks and noisy wineshops and rubbish heaps and bare ground with the grass worn away. Curious sandalled o
r barefoot people, sitting in the doorways of thatched huts or carrying huge burdens on their backs, watched them as they passed - the great lord of El Morro and the beautiful lady on the white horse. They wound their way through narrow, dirty, twisting streets crowded with scrambling half-naked children, turbaned prostitutes, dark mestizos, past vacantfaced peasants leading donkeys or mules. And then even those faces and those hovels of Havana’s outlying barrios melted away and they were in the green countryside with the trade winds blowing their horses’ manes.

  Around them stretched pleasant green valleys and rolling hills dotted with cattle, for they were west of Havana. In the distance as they crested the low hills they could see the glittering blue of the sea.

  They rode in silence now, Carolina looking straight ahead and Don Ramon, an easy rider in excellent control of his horse, considering her with an expression that Carolina, whenever she chanced to glance his way, could not fathom.

  She could not know that in his mind’s eye he was seeing a magnificent future. An impossible future perhaps, but a joyous one - a future with this woman forever beside him. He saw her ordering about the servants of a big new house he would somehow get for her. He saw her leaning back luxuriously, blonde hair shining in the sun, in a handsome new carriage (one he likewise did not possess) as he drove her about Havana so that everyone might envy him this glorious beauty. He saw her, regal in diamonds and pearls, her dainty chin high as he led her out upon the floor at a ball at the governor’s house - no, not the governor’s house, but a ball at one of the great houses in Seville, in Madrid itself! He saw her presented at Court, the most dazzling woman there - and himself beside her.

  He saw a life that did not exist, perhaps would never exist. And while he was dreaming mad dreams, he envisioned Carolina as a woman in love with him. Deeply. Passionately. Past all returning. He imagined in her silver eyes an awakening glow, he saw her strolling gracefully to her bed in something sheer and black, saw the clean sweet lines of her figure silhouetted in candlelight as the gauzy material rippled, watched her turn and smile and beckon to him. His blood heated up at the thought! She would love him, by God she must love him for he would never meet her like again!