Читать книгу Redemption of a Fallen Woman - Joanna Fulford, Joanna Fulford - Страница 8

When Harry arrived in the salón just before the appointed hour, it was to find Don Manuel already present. With him were four others. The two gentlemen, both with greying hair, appeared to be in their late forties. Both were of short stature and tending to corpulence. The two ladies looked older and both were expensively if severely gowned in black. If either ever had pretensions to beauty it was no longer evident. Nor was this deficiency ameliorated by their haughty and unsmiling demeanour. Don Manuel introduced them as his sisters, Doña Inéz and Doña Urraca. The gentlemen, Don Fernando and Don Esteban, were cousins.

As the introductions were performed Harry made a formal bow. Doña Inéz inclined her head in acknowledgement and offered a faint condescending smile that stopped well short of her dark eyes.

‘You honour us with your presence, Lord Henry. I trust that your journey here was satisfactory.’

‘Thank you, yes.’

‘I do not care to travel myself,’ she replied. ‘It is too fatiguing and the state of the roads leaves much to be desired.’

He agreed that they did. Thus encouraged, Doña Inéz went on to cover the hazards of ruts, dust, brigands and heatstroke. She was just embarking on a comprehensive condemnation of all the inns she had ever stayed in, when the salón door opened again. Harry glanced round and then, as he set eyes on the newcomer, all other thoughts went out of his head.

Elena paused on the threshold, hoping that her composure wouldn’t desert her now. Concha was right; it was important to play along for a while. Her gaze swept the room in distaste. With their dark clothing her relatives reminded her of nothing so much as a gathering of crows around their prey. They had shown about the same amount of compassion too. Then she noticed the tall figure standing beside Aunt Inéz. The man had his back to her but, as the conversation died down around him, he glanced round to find the reason.

Elena caught her breath, recognising him at once. However, that former fleeting glance through the window hadn’t done him justice; to begin with he made all the other men in the room look short, even her uncle. The lean, broad-shouldered frame suggested both strength and energy and was shown off to advantage by formal evening dress. It was severe, almost austere, and a perfect complement for his dark hair. The face, which she had formerly thought arresting, was rather more than that, like the cool grey eyes that were now surveying her steadily. The effect was to create an odd fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach.

The silence intensified. Then her uncle stepped forward. ‘Lord Henry, may I present my niece Elena?’

Harry stared, taking in the slender and willowy figure in the deep red gown. Ebony hair framed a face whose sculptural beauty was accentuated by a complexion that reminded him of ivory and roses. Her brown eyes were flecked with purest amber and, just then, expressive of some strong emotion that resisted precise identification. Curiosity stirred. Then, recollecting his manners, he made his bow.

She returned a graceful curtsey. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, my lord.’

‘The pleasure is mine,’ he replied, with perfect sincerity.

‘May I ask what brings you to Madrid?’

He summarised his mission briefly. ‘Your uncle has kindly offered his assistance.’

‘Then I hope his enquiries will be successful.’

‘Thank you, although after all this time I dare not hold out great hope.’

‘Even a little hope is better than none,’ she replied.

‘You are right, of course.’ He smiled wryly. ‘But enough about business for now. Tell me something of yourself. For instance, do you reside here with your uncle or are you just visiting?’

Before she could reply, Doña Inéz interposed. ‘My niece is visiting for a short while only.’

Beneath the irritation caused by that unwarranted interruption, he was conscious of a stab of something much like disappointment. ‘What a pity.’

‘It is a necessary deprivation for us all,’ said Doña Inéz, ‘since, in a few days’ time, she is to enter a convent and commence her novitiate.’

Elena made no reply, although her dark eyes revealed a brief flash of anger, then were swiftly veiled.

Harry was dumbfounded. The very idea that such a lovely young woman should become a nun seemed absurd—more than absurd, a criminal waste. Then he reflected that customs were different here, and that if she had such a vocation she should be entitled to follow it. Besides, it was none of his business.

‘In that case,’ he replied, ‘I wish you well on your chosen path.’

Elena looked up and again he caught that flash of anger in her eyes. However, her face remained otherwise impassive.

‘Thank you. That is most kind.’

The smooth tone held an inflection that was much like irony, and in spite of himself his curiosity mounted. He would have liked to pursue it, but not in Doña Inéz’s company. Unfortunately she showed no sign of moving away. The woman was acting like a strict dueña, almost as though she were mounting guard over her niece, though goodness only knew what she thought might happen in a room full of people.

Just then dinner was announced and Don Manuel suggested he might like to take Doña Inéz in. Good manners dictated gracious acquiescence. To his chagrin he found himself seated next to the lady at table as well. Elena took her place opposite, beside Don Fernando.

The conversation at table ranged over various topics, all of them innocuous. Everyone was perfectly civil and nothing could have been more refined than their manners, but Harry became aware of something rather different underneath, an undercurrent of tension that he couldn’t pin down. He reminded himself again that it was none of his business, that he had come here to obtain proof of Jamie’s death. Interference in family politics was no part of his plan.

After the meal, when the ladies had withdrawn, and the gentlemen had settled down to their port and cigars, the conversation turned to other matters. Harry listened politely, though in truth his mind was preoccupied with his quest rather than the current political situation. It was only the mention of Elena’s name that drew his attention squarely back to the company.

‘… and so, after we have seen her safely admitted to the convent, I must return to my estates,’ said Don Fernando. ‘There are matters requiring my attention.’

Their host nodded. ‘Of course. It was good of you to take the time to come at all.’

‘I felt it to be my duty.’

‘A duty we all share,’ said Don Esteban. ‘The restoration of our family honour is dear to us all. A life of reflection and piety will atone for sin.’

Harry’s glass paused in mid-air and he shot a quizzical glance at the speaker. Don Manuel intercepted it.

‘You are no doubt shocked, my lord, that sin should be mentioned in the same context as my niece.’

‘I was surprised,’ Harry admitted, wondering what possible sin so lovely a creature could have committed. He could think of a few that men might want to commit with her, but such a thing would be unthinkable for a highborn young woman and one so zealously guarded.

‘My niece’s story is not one that we would wish to be generally known.’ Don Manuel eyed him keenly. ‘I am sure we may rely on your discretion.’

‘Of course.’

‘When Elena was eighteen she was betrothed to a nobleman of high standing, indeed one of the highest in the land. Unfortunately it was during a period in the war when the action intensified. My brother-in-law, her father, was killed by enemy soldiers. His death fired a young girl’s imagination with misplaced patriotic zeal and she ran off and joined a guerrilla band.’

Harry regarded him in genuine amazement. Whatever he might have imagined it wasn’t that, but then Elena seemed to defy convention in every way.

‘War affects people strangely,’ he replied, mentally including himself in that category.

Don Manuel nodded. ‘Many unfortunate events occur in times of conflict and, goodness knows, our country has seen enough of such things. They leave a bitter legacy.’

‘Yes, they do.’ Harry felt his gut tighten. The topic came too close to home, reviving memories he’d tried to bury.

‘Elena’s sisters were models of exemplary conduct. They were originally intended for marriage but, after their father’s death, they chose to enter a convent. She did neither of those things, electing instead to live with a group of men like any common drab.’

Harry barely managed to conceal his astonishment. It seemed quite incongruous to think of Elena in such a role. He had seen quite a few common drabs in his time—the army had its camp followers—but she didn’t resemble them in any way.

‘In fighting for her country her role was perhaps unusual,’ he replied, ‘but surely not dishonourable.’

‘For a woman to take up arms is unnatural. That she should live among men in that way is utterly shameless.’

Harry was tempted to probe further. Had Elena taken a lover from among the guerrilla band? It was entirely possible and yet it didn’t seem consistent with what he had seen. She was courteous and friendly but there was not the least hint of flirtatiousness in her manner. All the same, he knew better than to ask. Instead he shifted the focus of the conversation a little.

‘What of her betrothed?’

‘When he learned of her shame he ended the betrothal.’

‘I see.’

‘Elena remained with the guerrillas for two years.’ Don Manuel made a vague gesture with his hand. ‘Of course, there is no possibility of marriage for her now, and she cannot be permitted to live as a single woman. Such a thing is unheard of. The only honourable course is for her to enter a convent.’

‘We have arranged it,’ said Don Fernando.

Harry’s fingers tightened on the stem of his glass. ‘Am I to understand that Doña Elena is not in accord with this plan?’

‘She is a wilful and stubborn young woman who has erred most grievously,’ Don Fernando replied. ‘It is the responsibility of her family to put a stop to such folly. The convent will do the rest. It is a closed order and a strict one. From now on she will lead a life of piety and prayer away from the eyes of the world.’

Don Esteban nodded. ‘The discipline will be highly beneficial and will help her to atone for her behaviour. In time she will come to realise that our decision was made in her own best interests.’

Harry’s jaw tightened. There were many things he could have said, indeed wanted to say, but he bit them back even though it went against the grain. The affair was none of his business. Things were done differently here and much stricter controls exerted on young women of good family. Nor was it uncommon for daughters to be given to God, with or without their consent. The latter proposition had always rankled with him. Entry into the religious life through choice was one thing; entry under compulsion was quite another. To use a convent as a means of incarceration was indefensible in his eyes, and he pitied any young woman caught in that situation.

‘The family are gathered to witness the ceremony of admission,’ Don Esteban went on. ‘When it has taken place we shall all breathe easier.’

Don Fernando nodded. ‘Indeed we shall.’

The conversation remained with Harry long after he had left the company and retired to his room. More than ever their plan seemed like a criminal act even though, in the eyes of the law, it was perfectly legal. It was certainly a criminal waste. He had no illusions about why it was happening in spite of all the pious cant he had heard that evening. In the eyes of her family Elena had become a liability and they meant to put her quietly away for good. It was a harsh penalty for something that, presumably, had been a matter of conscience. However, war spawned many atrocities.

Harry shut his eyes, trying not to think about Badajoz, but the darkness was suddenly filled with flames and gunfire and the shouts of drunken soldiers—British soldiers. For three days they had run amok in an orgy of murder, arson, rapine and plunder. Filthy, blood-stained, crazy with drink and consumed with greed, they spared none. When their officers tried to intervene the mob turned on them too. He swallowed hard, feeling sweat start on the palms of his hands, once again watching helplessly as a man fell under a rain of blows from the butt ends of muskets, the scene backlit by the ruddy glow of burning buildings. And in one of those buildings was Belén….

Work held the memories at bay most of the time, along with the social round. For a while it was possible to forget. It was only when he lay in bed at night that the memories revived, often in terrifying dreams. Time had helped, of course, but had never entirely eradicated them. And then fate had taken a hand and brought him back to Spain….

He turned over and thumped the pillow hard. In spite of everything, he had promised Ross to do all in his power to find the proof they needed about Jamie’s death. But what if the proof he sought couldn’t be found? What if Sanchez was dead now? Harry pushed the thought away, unwilling to contemplate the thought of failure. Too much hung in the balance. He had a job to do and past demons couldn’t be allowed to get in the way.