Indiscretion Page 13

  ‘So, what’s the problem?’ Alexandra looked at her, so perfect, with her hair falling over her shoulders like a river of gold, and yet her eyes haunted and melancholy.

  Esmeralda sighed and let her hands fall into her lap, where her fingers began to play nervously with a fold in her dress. ‘The family are desperate to marry me off. They keep parading other men in front of me but of course it’s no use, I’ve already promised myself to …’ She broke off. ‘We’re deeply in love but the family would never approve. I’m sorry, I can’t say any more.’ She shook her head.

  Alexandra sat down on the bed in front of her cousin, gazing at her sympathetically. ‘I know how it feels to have men thrust at you, whom you feel nothing for. Before I came out here I even had to turn down a proposal of marriage from my best friend. It was a match that my aunt and his parents longed for. Anyway, it was painful for us both, but especially him.’ She was struck by the fact that, apart from her conversation with Ramón, she had not once thought of her loyal and devoted friend Ashley until now. Poor Ashley, she thought. He had seen her off from Southampton harbour with such wounded resignation.

  ‘Did you ever think that it might be easier just to give in? Marry him?’ Esmeralda’s large eyes were fixed on hers, intently.

  Alexandra shook her head. ‘We were thrown together from an early age. For him it became more than sibling-like affection as we grew up. Not for me, though. For some, I suppose, the respect and fondness I have for him would be a sufficient base on which to found a marriage.’ She smiled sadly. ‘That’s not true for me.’ Alexandra had always assumed she would find it easy to decline a proposal but because it was Ashley, and she loathed hurting him, it had been awkward and painful.

  ‘I feel the same,’ agreed Esmeralda. ‘I refuse to marry anyone else, no matter how hard I’m pushed. And while that’s the case, I’m trapped here.’ Her face took on an anguished, distant look again. ‘Tonight, it was difficult … he wants me to make a decision but …’ she trailed off and shrugged her shoulders, reluctant to say more.

  ‘What does Salvador think?’

  Esmeralda frowned. ‘Salvador? How can I tell Salvador?’

  ‘But he’s your brother … aren’t you close?’

  ‘Yes, we’re close. I know everything about him, more than anyone else, I imagine.’ She saw Alexandra’s puzzled expression. Picking up a tissue, she began to wipe away the wetness from her cheeks. ‘Querida, it’s not like England here. What do you think would happen if I told my brother all this? He would be duty-bound to put an end to this relationship and make me marry someone suitable, even if he didn’t want to. It’s a question of honour, and Salvador is no less bound by it than any other Spanish nobleman. More so, I would say.’

  Alexandra shook her head, disapprovingly. ‘So he would sacrifice his sister’s happiness for the sake of some outdated notion of honour? Do you think he suspects anything?’

  ‘He knows, of course he does. But he chooses to turn a blind eye, for both our sakes. Besides, he already has his own troubles to think about.’

  ‘So I gather.’ Alexandra glanced at her, wanting to know more but wondering how much she was prepared to say herself. Perhaps Esmeralda was alluding to Salvador’s preoccupation with his revived feelings for Isabel … if they had ever been fully smothered. She swallowed painfully. Finally, she said, ‘Your brother seems to be full of dramatic pronouncements. I got the impression he almost thinks this house is cursed.’

  ‘And so it is, in a way.’ Esmeralda screwed up the tissue tightly in her hand. ‘The gypsies … they’ve always spelled trouble.’ She looked at her cousin warily. ‘It’s not for me to say but my poor brother has much to contend with.’

  At that moment, quiet footsteps sounded in the corridor and someone stopped outside the door. Esmeralda gave a start and motioned for Alexandra to be still. Whoever it was paused, then the footsteps moved away and down the stairs.

  ‘I heard someone outside … didn’t you?’ Esmeralda whispered, her eyes wide with panic.

  ‘Yes, but they’ve gone away.’ An uneasy feeling stirred again in Alexandra, though she tried to look unconcerned. Esmeralda seemed jumpy enough as it was at the prospect of someone overhearing.

  ‘I think you should go now, just in case. The walls have ears at El Pavón and things are already difficult enough for you.’ Esmeralda gave the briefest of smiles, though she still looked anxious and tired. She took a shawl from the back of her chair and pulled it tightly round her shoulders, like a protective shield.

  ‘Gracias, Alexandra, for coming in to check on me.’

  Alexandra smiled back and moved towards the door. She made to leave and then paused on the threshold. ‘I’m here if ever you need to talk, Esmeralda.’

  Esmeralda nodded but said nothing.

  Alexandra returned to her room to dress for dinner. There was still time before she had to endure the company of her family — and face her cousin Salvador again. The doors to the balcony were open, framing the dark blue sky. She stepped outside and inhaled the air, fragrant with the breath of night. The garden, so alive earlier on, was now veiled in darkness, which brought with it a nocturnal mystery as unfathomable the people around her, she reflected. As she stared into the vast, inky canopy, her growing sense of foreboding murmured quietly to her.

  Since her arrival at El Pavón, so many things had puzzled her and her talk with Esmeralda had only gone some way towards enlightening her. It was now clear what Esmeralda was concealing from her family but the hidden agendas of the rest of the de Fallas remained obscure. Why had Salvador warned her to leave Spain? Equally, how had he come to deserve such muted disapproval from the rest of his family? And what was behind the hushed whispers whenever Marujita’s name was mentioned? Strange that Esmeralda hadn’t mentioned her at all, even though the girl appeared to hold quite an importance in this household where so many comments carried ambiguous meanings. Alexandra could think of more than one occasion when the conversation had stopped dead as she walked into a room. Often, during her walks, or while she read in the shade of a tree, she sensed an evil presence, as though invisible eyes were watching her.

  The hostility of certain members of the family, the fact that they took her for some wily schemer come to rob them of part of their inheritance, was undeniable. Yet Alexandra had the clawing sense that these indefinable impressions of danger whenever she was alone had their roots elsewhere but, like all her other unanswered questions, the truth remained elusive. Endowed with a fertile imagination she might be, however, she was not an alarmist. She was determined soon she would somehow have proof that her uneasy feelings were justified.

  Time marched on. She couldn’t tell how long she’d been on the balcony, wrapped in sombre thoughts. The evening breeze, gentle and cool, brushed her lips lightly, giving her the ephemeral illusion of a kiss. She shivered; all of a sudden she was cold. Going back inside, she shut the window and finally dressed for dinner. She made her way down to the conservatory at the back of the house where the family was assembling, as the great dining room was still being cleaned following the ball. Alexandra much preferred the informality of this charming space opening out on to the gardens, lit with softer lamps, its glass walls hung with vines.

  Esmeralda didn’t appear that evening. At the beginning of the meal, Doña Eugenia announced starchily that a migraine was keeping the young woman from joining them for dinner. If some had any doubt as to the veracity of this excuse, they kept it to themselves. Once more Alexandra had the notion they were acting by common accord, as though a tacit conspiracy was going on, which deliberately excluded her. Still, inwardly she allowed herself a satisfied smile, knowing they were unaware of the conversation she’d just shared with Esmeralda. For once she knew what was behind their masks.

  Dinner tonight was conducted in stern silence. Even Ramón failed to make his customary quips, and Don Alonso was in his own world as usual. Doña María Dolores sat opposite Salvador, her expression more grim and severe than ever. Al
exandra had tensed a little when her cousin had taken the seat next to her on the large round table, meeting his easy smile with barely suppressed irritation lighting her eyes. The young man had returned from his jaunt with Doña Isabel in his vintage car a few minutes before dinner and seemed totally unaware of either Alexandra’s or his great-aunt’s mood as he tried singlehandedly to keep the conversation going.

  ‘Alexandra, have you any engagement for tomorrow?’ he asked, glancing at his cousin. ‘I need to travel to Seville on business,’ he went on without waiting for her reply. ‘My work should take only a short time. We’d have the rest of the day to visit one of our most beautiful cities. I thought it may interest you and …’

  ‘Oh, Salvador,’ Mercedes cut in, suddenly coming to life and throwing a dagger-like look at Alexandra. ‘Can I come? I adore Seville and I could stop off in the Calle de Sierpes and …’

  ‘My dear child,’ interrupted Doña María Dolores, ‘you’re forgetting that Monday is the day you read to me.’

  ‘But Abuela,’ she protested indignantly, ‘I could read to you just as well when I come back from Seville or, if it’s too late, on Tuesday.’

  Alexandra wasn’t sure if she was more alarmed at the prospect of Salvador’s invitation or the idea of Mercedes joining them. However, she had no chance to voice her misgivings. Ignoring the objections of one granddaughter and the silence of the other, Doña María Dolores turned to Salvador and announced that Alexandra would be delighted to go with him to Seville.

  ‘Sarita can accompany you,’she added.‘Her old mother lives nearby in Triana, she’s not been very well. I’m sure Sarita would welcome the opportunity to visit her for the day.’

  Alexandra bristled. She had ambiguous feelings about spending a whole day in Salvador’s company. Despite her anger and confusion towards her cousin, part of her thrilled to the idea of being alone with him again but she was still somewhat taken aback by her grandmother’s dictatorial tone and the fact that she’d not been consulted. But that was the Duquesa’s way, as she’d already learned: she was the head of this family and ruled it in accordance with her ideas and plans. It had always been so. For the time being, Alexandra thought it best not to rock the boat.

  ‘Oh, Abuela, please let me go too,’ whimpered Mercedes.

  However, the dowager’s attention had already moved on, the conversation at an end.

  Alexandra stole a glance at Salvador, who was cheerfully tucking into his food, the ghost of a smile around his mouth, though he studiously avoided looking at her. Courses were cleared away and dessert appeared, which Doña María Dolores declined.

  ‘Tía, did you know that Alexandra is an accomplished pianist?’ Salvador remarked to the Duquesa, a smile flickering in his eyes as he watched for his cousin’s reaction. Alexandra gave none; she wasn’t going to satisfy him by showing any discomfort on his account.

  ‘I did. You must play for me some time, querida,’ said the Duquesa.

  ‘Of course, Abuela,’ answered Alexandra. ‘I should be happy to play for you whenever you wish.’

  Doña María Dolores directed a pleased nod at her granddaughter. She looked at Alexandra for a moment and paused before turning to Salvador, her features once more austere.

  ‘A word, por favor.’ The Duquesa rose from her chair and moved away, motioning for Salvador to join her. The two of them stood in the archway leading to the living room beyond and, as Mercedes began to chatter on to her mother about having piano lessons, the Duquesa lowered her voice. ‘We need to talk about the company you’re keeping at the moment. I don’t understand why you’re rekindling this old flame.’

  Within earshot, Alexandra purposefully kept her eyes level, concentrating on her pudding, though her stomach turned painfully at the thought of Salvador and Doña Isabel together — for who else could it be that her grandmother was referring to, she reasoned? A few seats away, Doña Eugenia pricked up her ears, giving a sour look to no one in particular when she clearly failed to earwig satisfactorily.

  ‘Come, Tía, you worry too much,’ said Salvador. ‘You know what they say, hacer una montaña de un grano de arena, don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.’

  ‘Unfortunately, you often give me cause to worry, my boy,’ the Duquesa muttered. ‘We must discuss this in private, but I want to know your intentions.’

  ‘My intentions? Oh, the list is endless, Tía,’ he smiled charmingly at his great-aunt, deflecting her inquisition. ‘Topping it is sorting out the new stock of horses. Speaking of which …’ And with that, the sound of their conversation was lost as they walked into the next room and out of sight on their way to the Duquesa’s apartments.

  Alexandra tried to shake off her mood but it wouldn’t pass. At home, in England, she had more authority over her feelings; here, she felt constantly baited and vulnerable in a way she didn’t care for at all. Salvador seemed determined to provoke her at every turn and she was now apprehensive as to what a whole day with him in Seville would bring, during which she had no doubt he would continue with his infuriating sport. Whatever happened, she must not betray her attraction to her beguiling cousin, an attraction that frustrated as much as it excited her.

  That night, as Alexandra twisted and turned in her bed, unable to find sleep, she heard the sound of furtive footsteps in the corridor. She was certain someone was outside her room. In a few strides she was at the door, wrenching it open.

  ‘Who’s there?’ she cried out, hearing the startled tone in her own voice. The ominous silence of the long, deserted corridor answered her. She remained a moment in the doorway and quickly looked about her. Summoning all her courage, she ventured a few steps down the corridor and listened intently. Again she heard the soft footfalls, then the muffled sound of a door closing gently somewhere below, on the ground floor.

  She was conscious of the rapid pounding in her chest and realized she was shaking. Slowly she shut the door and turned the key in the lock mechanically. She remained a moment, leaning against the heavy panelled wall separating her from the sinister shadows of the house, and then, turning, suddenly she let out a stifled cry of horror: it seemed as though someone was standing before her.

  Her own shadowy reflection gazed back at her from the tall cheval mirror Agustina had brought up to her room before the masked ball. She gave a sigh of relief. ‘No question about it,’ she muttered to herself, ‘you’re as nervous as a kitten tonight.’

  Alexandra poured herself a glass of water and sat for a few seconds on the edge of her bed. Either there had been a prowler outside her room or else her imagination had been playing tricks on her. If it had been the former, she wondered who was creeping around the corridors at such an unearthly hour and why they hadn’t answered her.

  That night she slept badly, dreaming that ghostly shadows were pursuing her through the hacienda and a voice she knew well was urging her to leave.

  CHAPTER 5

  They arrived at Seville in Salvador’s Hispano-Suiza by ten o’clock. Alexandra’s stomach had been beset with a host of butterflies at the thought of the day stretching ahead with him, particularly after he’d helped her into the car with a gentle hand to the small of her back, sending a tingling frisson up her spine. She glanced at Sarita, the maid, huddled in the back, and felt self-conscious. Well, she supposed that was the point of her presence, a chaperone to uphold the family’s honour, but as she and Salvador would be alone all day, it seemed a bit of an empty gesture on her grandmother’s part and having Sarita there did little to calm her nerves.

  Surprisingly, Salvador quickly put her at her ease as they drove through the countryside. He was full of animated and amusing conversation about the surroundings, the Spanish and the delights of Seville that awaited them. Now and again he turned his head to stare at her appraisingly, making her pulse jolt. It was his open, unapologetic, Latin temperament, she told herself, though its intimacy disconcerted her.

  They parted company with Sarita near the Golden Tower, the Torre del Oro, where the maid
was to take a tram across the River Guadalquivir into Triana, the poorest quarter of Seville. After parking the car at the Plaza Hotel, Salvador took a few minutes to drop off a letter for one of his clients before offering to take Alexandra on a guided tour around town.

  It was a sunny, immaculate morning, bathed in golden rays, with a velvety, azure-blue sky devoid of cloud. Already a colourful throng swarmed along the pavements lined with artisans’ shops, cafés and taverns.

  ‘Where are all these people going?’ asked Alexandra, surprised at the bustle at such an early hour.

  ‘Seville is a town for the stroller,’ explained Salvador, as they walked down one of the avenues that gave on to the main shopping street, la Calle de Sierpes. ‘You have to wander leisurely, with no particular aim in mind. I suggest we do just that, it’s such a glorious day,’ he grinned.

  He was in a radiant mood and she was discovering he could be all at once cheerful, talkative and funny, a side to his character that had eluded her up until now. Whether it was pride, stubbornness, or simply the desire to savour the relaxed feeling between them, neither one had mentioned the masked ball or the unfortunate incident that had taken place in the drawing room the previous afternoon with Doña Isabel.

  For the first time since her arrival in Spain, Alexandra felt truly alive as they walked side by side under the shade of palm trees, mingling with the exuberant crowd. There was no doubt about it: Seville’s carefree and happy atmosphere was contagious.

  That morning, she had chosen to wear a simple Yves Saint Laurent chemise dress, pale green with three-quarter sleeves, held around her slender waist by a wide striped belt. From time to time, Alexandra would look up at Salvador, the green of the silk material reflecting in her eyes, making them seem softer. She wore no make-up and, with her mass of freshly washed copper hair tumbling down her shoulders, framing the delicate oval of her face, she looked like a schoolgirl, scarcely out of adolescence. From her appearance now, it was difficult to believe that only two evenings before she had been the sophisticated sultana from a bygone era, whirling around the dancefloor, an elegant and mysterious figure in the brightly lit ballroom.