There she checked herself and stared at Lise, who had reached so blindly for the milk jug that she had upset it. Hastily she mopped up with a table napkin, before the milk could spill from the table on to her dress.
'What is the matter?' The Condesa leaned forward and gripped Lise's hand. Her fingernails dug into the flesh, but she seemed unaware of this, of the pain and alarm she sent shooting through Lise.
'I – I'm clumsy, Madrecita. Still a little excited by your gift—'
No, there is something else! Has Leandro gone to Madrid to see this woman who was divorced from her husband?'
`No—'
'You will tell me the truth!' The Condesa's fingers gripped remorselessly, pressing into Lise her rings and her fear. I am not so old and frail that I cannot be told the truth – for once. Come, my child, I can tell from your face that you know the real reason why he has gone there and I insist that you tell me what you know.'
'I – I know very little, señora. I merely suspected that he might go to see her, as she is an old friend, and a business associate—'
'Business associate, that mujer inconstante? Por Dios, and knowing he was going to her, you let him go, child! When I was your age I could have held back a man, especially a man I loved. Ah, don't flinch from the truth, menina. I know you love the wretch.'
‘you also know, señora, that he doesn't love me?'
'Bah, I have seen you in his arms. He desires you, and a
clever girl can always turn that to her advantage. This other
one – he knows I will not have her under my roof. I will not permit the Marcos Reyes name to pass to a woman who has already gone through a form of marriage with another man. She is unchaste—' Abruptly the Condesa let go of Lise's hand and lay back in her chair with an exhausted look on her face. 'I am allowing myself to become agitated and it is not good for my old heart. Lise, I must have your promise that you will marry Leandro. He has given you his ring, his promise, and he knows very well that all his people at El Serafin are eager for the moment when the hawk mates with the dove. They expect the bianca paloma for their young condesa, not the scarlet woman! They expect the virgin bride there at the altar on his arm . . . the lily, not, the orchid!'
`Please, señora, you must not upset yourself.' Lise hastened round the table to the side of the Condesa and the last remnants of her shyness were scattered as she put her arms around the lovely proud, frail woman and softly kissed her face. 'Leandro will do his duty, you know that, Madrecita. He will not let you down – nor will I, if I can help it.'
Manuela, who was never far away, came hurrying from the shadow of the cloisters in that moment. She and Lise between them assisted the Condesa to her apartment on the ground floor, and after Lise had made sure that Leandro's grandmother was all right, merely tired after her upset, she made her way to the Conde's study where she took an English edition of Wuthering Heights from the shelf and sat in the deep window seat to read of Heathcliff's passionate and terrible love for Catherine. Monster! would that he could be blotted out of creation, and out of my memory!
After reading those desperate words Lise gazed from the window and saw the day going sultry, the colour of those clouds that had swum in from the sea and were now banked above the turrets of the castle. Juan had predicted a storm,
and once again Lise had that feeling that she wanted thunder and lightning and a clearing of the air.
She was still sitting there with the book in her lap, alternating her gaze from the window to the words Together, they would brave Satan and all his legions, when the door opened and Florentina surged into the room.
`So here you are in his room, dreaming and feeling a bit blue. But you must eat some lunch, and I have come to ask what you would like.'
' 'Oh, anything will do. I am not really hungry—'
`A menina with a man on her mind is rarely hungry, but that is no reason why you should sit here and starve. A Spaniard expects a bride who feels like a woman in his arms, not a broomstick. Come now,' the big smile grew on Florentina' s face, 'how about para picar, eh? A little of sliced sausage, some of my honey-baked ham, a bit of cheese, a tomato and cucumber in vinegar? Tasty, eh? To wake up the hunger buds.'
`How can I resist?' Lise broke into a smile. 'I'll have it here beside me because I like the view from this window.'
`Muy bueno.' Florentina looked knowing. 'And one can smell the cigars that have been smoked here, and there is nothing more provoking to the memory than the scent of a man's cigar. I will bring gingerbread as well. I have just baked some and it is good straight from the oven - always from a boy the señor conde liked to come to my kitchen for hot gingerbread.'
`I always thought,' murmured Lise, 'that someone was responsible for the ginger in him.'
`What is a man without it?' Florentina chuckled, and then glanced about the leather-lined study. 'But are you sure you will eat here? The room has a certain gloom today, and the figures in that tapestry seem to move to my mind.'
`It's only an illusion caused by a draught,' said Lise,
gazing herself at the conquistadores in their gleaming casques and armoured vests. 'I rather like them, for they look as if nothing could ever humble them. They are so Spanish, so very proud and armoured.'
Lise shot a smile at Florentina, but in answer she received a hairstyle rather serious look, one which took in her youthful
, her pale dress, and her legs tucked beneath her as she sat there in the window seat framed by the long velvet curtains.
`Stand up to him.' Florentina spoke abruptly. 'Don't be meek or saintly, as his mother was!'
The door closed behind the large figure in the rustling dress and apron, but her words lingered in the room and they made Lise realize how tightly the trap of this expected marriage was closing around her. Her struggles for release seemed to entangle her ever deeper in the lives and hopes of the people at El Serafin. Because the castle was so isolated, so relatively untouched by the modern ways, the old values still held sway. Leandro was the master here, but still he owed it to his people, and most of all to his grandmother, to provide a virgin bride . . . the true and authentic sacrifice to the pagan laws of love.
Lise sat pensive in the window seat, feeling the weight of the love knot above the heaviness of her heart. How quickly beat her heart, while her thoughts flew along the road to Madrid. They would arrive sometime in the evening, for Chano was a fast driver. Leandro would go to his apartment there, while Ana would go home with Chano, happy in the glowing knowledge that she was loved and wanted for herself.
The sapphire gleamed darkly on Lise's hand as she clenched the curtain beside her, crushing the velvet as a tormenting vision arose in her mind of Leandro speaking on the telephone to Franquista, arranging to meet her, possibly
at a smart, softly lit restaurant where they would discuss their problem and later come to terms with it at her apartment. They were worldly people who would find a way to adjust to a relationship which must include a third person . . . herself.
A tremor ran through Lise, for it was she who could not adjust to the idea of sharing Leandro with another woman. She closed her eyes as the remorseless truth swept over her . . . she wanted all of him, or none of him Somehow the trap in which she found herself must be sprung . .. she would write to her sister-in-law and between them they would plot a way for her to get back to England without causing harm to the Condesa. Once there, safely away from Leandro, the days could slip into weeks until finally she was forgotten.
That was the way it must be ... she would not, could not contemplate a marriage that would suit everyone but herself. She wasn't that meek or that saintly.
The heavy rains began to fall late that afternoon, seeming to drive down from the peaks like lances of silver, blotting out the landscape and pounding on the trees and flowers so that Lise felt sure many of them would be driven to the ground to lie there draggled and wet until they perished. She thought of the bougainvillea which so loved the hot sun, and the fragile columbines t
hat would never hold their own in such a fierce onslaught.
All the lights were lit in the castle as the storm intensified, and Lise went without being asked to the apartment of the Condesa to make certain she wasn't unnerved by the tumult of rain and the hiss of the lightning through the black clouds, striking at the windows and playing around the turrets like dark red fire. The thunder seemed to echo back and forth among the peaks of the mountains, and Lise gave a jump as Manuela opened the door to her at the same
moment a heavy crack of thunder echoed along the corridor.
`The Condesa,' Lise's voice shook slightly, 'she is all right?'
`Of course, señorita.' Manuela smiled and beckoned Lise into the sitting-room of the suite. 'The Condesa has lived in this part of the world for most of her life and she is accustomed to these storms that come during the hot weather. What of you, señorita? You are not yet accustomed to them.'
`I must confess that I find this particular storm a bit terrifying.' Lise jumped again as the castle seemed to tremble I the grip of some giant fist. 'From the study I could hear the horses stamping and neighing, and suddenly I was anxious and felt like some company. May I sit with you, Manuela?'
`With headscarf pleasure, señorita. I am sewing beads on a string and you can sew the other end, if you wish?'
`I wish.' Lise gave a shaky smile and glanced at the closed door of the Condesa' s bedroom. 'Is she asleep, through all this?'
`She has had a small sedative and will sleep for a while longer.' Manuela gave Lise a steady look, her dark eyes both curious and concerned. 'I know that the señora received a letter from Madrid this morning. Was it that which upset her? She has so set her mind on the Conde's nuptial happiness that the slightest whisper of doubt ... señorita, I don't mean to pry, but there were strong rumours at one time that the Conde had an attachment to a – another woman. I think we all fear that she will in some way come between—' Manuela broke off and bit her lip. Then she hurried on: 'Men are not always as true and loyal as women .. . some, perhaps, but not all, and it is well known that the Conde's father was unfaithful to that kind, good creature
whom he married straight from a convent. These instincts are in the blood, and the Condesa knows this and always she is in fear that history will repeat itself. Now he has gone off — you understand, señorita, it is not that storm out there that can harm the Condesa. It is the inner storm. She said to me today — you do not mind that I speak frankly?'
Lise shook her head and sat down in the chair which Manuela indicated. The windows shook as she did so, and she heard the rain splashing down on the flagstones of the courtyard, on the coloured tiles of the patio, that would be awash with rainwater, and the petals of flowers.
Manuela had lit a fire and the warmth was agreeable as Lise leant to the flames and held her hands to the glow.
The Condesa's companion sat down in a basket chair and the beaded scarf glittered in her fingers as she took it up again. 'The English woman,' she said, 'is not so well trained in patience or obedience to the whims of a man. The Condesa fears that you will not marry the Conde if he continues to see this other woman.'
`She has said so, Manuela?' Lise didn't glance from the flames, for they seemed to writhe around the logs in a similar agony to her inner feelings.
`Yes, she confessed this to me, for we are close, you understand.' Manuela dropped a bead and left it to lie on the rug. Her gaze was fixed upon Lise's profile in the firelight. `He has gone to see her, has he not?'
`I believe so.' Lise spoke quietly, but inwardly she was torn apart by the certainty that soon he would be with Franquista, leaving her to carry the burden of his grandmother's peace of mind. Leaving it up to her to assure the Condesa that she would go through with this marriage come what may.
How dared he do that? How dared he be so sure that the material things he offered would outweigh her natural desire
for that most elusive thing of all ... the love that could be felt but never grasped . . . the love that shot from one soul to the other, like lightning through the dark, forging with fire a bond that only death could sever.
How dared Leandro suppose that she would cower before his threats, and be here on Tuesday to feel on her hand, her body, the touch that all the weekend had been Franquista's!
`Manuela,' Lise sat up very straight in her chair and looked across at the companion, who probably knew the Condesa better than anyone else, 'do you think the señora could bear to be told that I — that I wish to break my engagement to the Conde?'
In the silence that followed the thunder seemed' to deepen, to penetrate more deeply the environs of the castle.
'I — I keep being forced into promises which I can't keep,' Lise went on. 'It seems that everyone matters except me. That everyone's feelings must be considered except mine. It's as if I'm a puppet instead of a person; as if I'm filled with straw instead of feelings. If I had no feelings I wouldn't be concerned for the Condesa, and it's that concern alone which keeps me here. I know her heart is weak, but is it so weak that she would suffer collapse if a mere English girl walked out and left a note to say that she can't live in Spain, that it's too far from her family in England? Would she not understand and forgive me?'
'Very possibly,' said Manuela. 'But would the Conde forgive you if the blow to her hopes was too much for her?'
'Do you believe that it would be too much of a blow?'
I am not a doctor, señorita, but I do know that she had set her heart on this one thing, possibly the last strong wish she will have on this earth. She fears, you see, that if you do not marry him, then he will marry this other woman. Not
yet, of course. Not while she lives, but some day inevitably.'
`Oh God!' Lise clasped her hands together. 'He has no right to do this to me. I was a stranger to him, that night my car broke down and he brought me here and talked me into losing as his novia. I thought it would last only a week or so
. I never dreamed it would come to this. It's become like a nightmare from which I can't wake up—'
`But I am glad that I woke up,' said a voice by the bedroom door. 'I am glad I have heard the truth at last.'
Lise leapt to her feet, while Manuela' s box of tiny beads fell from her lap and rolled in all directions. Together they stared at the Condesa, who stood just in the doorway of her bedroom, holding around her a robe of purple brocade.
`It is, of course, a pity,' she said, 'for you have the spirit to have made him a good wife. However, you cannot be forced against your will to go through with a masquerade to the very steps of the altar. I will arrange that in the morning you are driven to the nearest airport and from there you can book a flight home to England. I am sure, my child, that you will wish to go while Leandro is away from home. You will not wish to see again this devil who has forced you into playing such a false role. You must hate him – perhaps almost as much as you reluctantly love him.'
Then, as Lise still stood there stunned, the Condesa made her way to a window and for several moments she watched the slashing rain and the flashing lightning. 'The gods, are in a rage,' she murmured. 'Who can blame them, when men and women will play with love as if it were a toy instead of a living element to be treated with reverence? Manuela, I think we could all do with a glass of wine to soothe our shaken nerves. And, Lise, my child, do stop looking at me as if I am about to fall into fragments, like the old parchment I ,am. I am more annoyed over all this than shocked. As a
grandson of mine I gave Leandro credit for preferring gold to dross, but if he cannot safeguard his gold once it is in his hands, and prefers to gamble with it, then he has only himself to blame if he ends up a bankrupt at the court of love.'
The storm lasted well into the night, and it might have been just after midnight when Lise turned over in bed and thought she heard voices down in the courtyard. She raised herself on her elbow and wondered what could be wrong. Suddenly, with anxiety clutching at her, she slipped out of bed, pulled on her robe, pushed her feet into her slippers
and went out on to the veranda. She saw light streaming out from one of the ground-floor rooms, and had the sudden dread thought that the doctor had been called to attend to the Condesa. As a spot of rain fell on to her cheek from the stonework above where she stood, she turned and hastened from her bedroom and made her way to the stairs. She had almost reached the hall when someone came out of the sala, a tall figure stripped to white shirt and dark trousers, black hair agleam as if only recently it had been wet with the rain.
'Leandro!' His name broke from Lise, and she was so startled that she tripped on the stairs and only just saved herself by clutching at the wrought-iron balustrade. Her heart was in her throat somewhere, and then he was coming up the stairs to her. His arms went round her and he lifted her as if she had been a child and carried her down to the room from which he had emerged ... a dark and very vital being.
`Why aren't you there, in Madrid?' Lise stared at him with huge grey eyes, while still he held her in his arms, until suddenly he gave the door a kick and it closed behind them and they were alone together in the sala, where his coat was slung to a chair, and where his cases stood, spattered with raindrops.
`Would you sooner I were in Madrid?' he asked, and very lazily his good eye travelled down her slim neck to the opening of her robe, where pale nylon moved rapidly up and down with her startled breathing. 'Do you not prefer to have me here, mi amiga?'
but I don't understand, señor.' She stared at his face, so dark, so close to her, wearing the slightly wicked smile of the devil she was going to escape when morning came. 'Where is Ana, and Chano? What happened?'
`They continued on their way to their destination, matadora. I returned to face my destiny.' Slowly he allowed Lise to fall to her feet, but still he kept his arms around her, holding her slim, night-clad figure against him. 'We stopped on the road to take lunch and when I looked back I saw how stormy the sky looked. I told our two friends to continue their journey, while I would remain at the inn to arrange for a car to bring me back to the castle.'
The kisses and the wine Page 17