Page 27 of Sweet Savage Love
27
A fter Ana had left his study, still crying hysterically, Don Francisco Alvarado still stood frowning thoughtfully at the door, his riding whip held tightly in his still-strong hands. A handsome, distinguished looking man he was, in spite of his seventy-six years. Don Francisco’s hair was completely white, but he had the erect carriage of a man much younger, and there was no trace of senility in any of his actions. However, he was a man given to command—as proud as his conquistador ancestors and just as arrogant, and it was obvious that what he had just heard had not pleased him. His mouth was a thin line under his full white mustachios, and his eyes, as blue as his grandson’s, looked fiercely out from over a high-bridged, aquiline nose.
“Jaime!”
He did not need to raise his voice. Jaime would be just outside the door as usual, waiting. He wondered casually how much the man knew. Almost everything, of course! The servants, the vaqueros, they would all know—although they’d not dare speak of it to him. Still, this was not a matter to be discussed in front of servants.
“ Patrón?” The man moved silently and unobtrusively, as always. Don Francisco had hardly realized that he had entered the room already.
“You will inform the senor Renaldo that I wish to speak with him. At once, if he pleases.”
“ sí , patrón. ”
When Renaldo entered the room, Don Francisco was sitting at his desk, a glass of wine at his elbow. He glanced up at his nephew and gave an almost imperceptible nod of greeting.
“You did not keep me waiting. One might almost feel there’s still some hope for the younger generation!”
“You wished to see me on a matter of some urgency?” Renaldo’s voice sounded guarded. In the shadowed room, his face seemed to wear an expression that was at once preoccupied and rather adamant.
“You may sit down. A glass of wine?”
Renaldo shook his head.
“No thank you, sir. In fact I was just about to leave when Jaime found me—there are a few things I have to take care of at my house.”
“It seems as if you’ve had much more than usual to take care of during the past week or so!” Don Francisco was holding the glass of wine up to the light contemplatively, he seemed merely to be making idle talk. “In fact, I’ve hardly seen you of late. Whenever Esteban decides to honor us with his presence I find that unusual things begin to happen.” Don Francisco looked up suddenly and caught his nephew’s almost indiscernible frown. “I do hope my grandson has not involved you in any of his wild escapades?”
“It’s my understanding that Esteban is in Mexico City, or headed that way,” Renaldo said stiffly. “At any rate, I didn’t see much of him during his visit here.”
“Well—I suppose we should hope that whatever business he had to take care of there proves profitable.” Don Francisco took a sip of his wine and glanced casually at his nephew as he continued speaking in the same inconsequential tone of voice. “I am rather surprised, however, that he could bring himself to leave the woman he brought here with him. Ana tells me she is quite attractive, in a bold sort of way.”
Renaldo could not control the angry flush that came up in his face. So he knew! Somehow, Don Francisco contrived to learn everything that happened. He was uncomfortably aware of the piercing scrutiny of those blue eyes that caught every detail of his confusion.
“Sir! I—I—” Renaldo was annoyed at himself for stuttering and stumbling over his words just as he had when he was a boy. And even then it had usually been because he was trying to protect his cousin Esteban from the consequences of some irresponsible action.
“For shame, my nephew! A learned scholar such as you are at loss for words? I was hoping you would be able to tell me more about Esteban’s latest plaything—I understand that she upset my poor little Ana a great deal. I’m surprised you allowed him to be so indiscreet. How could you permit a woman of that type to occupy your guesthouse and have so much of your company as well? Is she so fascinating?”
“You do not understand! I don’t know how Ana managed to meet Ginny—Miss Brandon, that is—but I assure you, sir, that she’s not at all what you imply. She’s a lady, sir—and of good family. Esteban had no right to place her in such a compromising position! In fact, I told him…”
“And since when has my grandson listened to what anyone tells him?” There was a touch of irony in Don Francisco’s voice at last, his hooded eyes had narrowed slightly. “So—you say this woman is a lady. In that case, what is she doing here as my grandson’s mistress? As I understand it, she is not exactly a prisoner, although she told Ana some wild story of kidnap. Damn it, sir!” Don Francisco suddenly pounded on the arm of his chair with the handle of his riding whip, causing Renaldo to jump, “Why am I not informed of what goes on in my own estates? Why do I have to summon you here and go to such lengths to pry the truth from you? No—”his voice had turned sarcastic “—don’t wear that stiff look and tighten your lips with such noble resignation. I suppose you were preparing to tell me that some ridiculous idea of loyalty to Esteban must seal your lips. I won’t have it, do you hear me? Remember that your first loyalty is to me! I’ll hear the whole story from you now, senor, with no evasions, if you please!”
Renaldo Ortega was later to remember that interview with Don Francisco as being one of the most unpleasant occasions in his life. His uncle had been right, of course; he did have a feeling of harebrained loyalty towards Esteban, but at the same time he felt more than that towards Ginny—he couldn’t quite understand his feelings; he felt pity for her, yes, mixed with a tremendous admiration for her fortitude and her indomitable courage, but was there something else as well? As his uncle pried the whole sordid story from him, he kept picturing her—that honey-colored skin, those wide, sea green eyes set like a gypsy’s in her unwittingly sensuous face, her quick woman’s mind, and her laugh…how dare Esteban have treated her like some cheap woman he’d picked up off the streets, leaving her here to be vilified and insulted by a little chit like Ana? No, it was to her that he owed loyalty, and more than that, his protection.
But he was stunned when Don Francisco abruptly terminated their talk, announcing formidably that he intended to see for himself—he would visit the little guesthouse himself and talk to Miss Brandon. When his uncle made up his mind to take a certain course of action, nothing could stop him, he should have known that by now, but still Renaldo protested.
“But, sir, I beg you—”
“Finish doing your accounts, Renaldo.” Don Francisco’s voice was measured and dry, but Renaldo caught its veiled menace and winced. “I’m still capable of handling the affairs of my own estate, and my family, and I shall do what needs to be done. Jaime—see that my horse is brought to the front of the estancia, if you please. And prepare to ride with me.”
When Don Francisco became el patrón and dismissed one, there was nothing else to do but retire. Barely able to suppress his frustration, Renaldo made a slight bow and withdrew. But while he tried to labor over his uncle’s books in a small room overlooking the patio, Renaldo found himself seeing Ginny’s face. An unspoken prayer throbbed in his mind—Don’t let him hurt her!
He need not have worried. The emotional storm that Ginny had been through since her meeting with Dona Ana had left her drained of all feeling, even fear. Like an automaton she had allowed Rosa to bathe her, after a while, and to dress her in the prettiest of the gowns that had been provided for her. Rosa even tied a green ribbon in her hair, and let it hang down her back. She drank a glass of juice and ate some fresh fruit—ice-cold papaya, with lime juice sprinkled over it.
“But why?” she had protested. “What are we preparing for?” Ginny had sensed that Rosa was on her side—but against whom or what? She expected Renaldo to turn up at any moment; dear, kind Renaldo would tell her what to do, he would help her. She only knew that she must leave, she refused to be here, waiting meekly, when Steve got back. She never wanted to set eyes on him again; he was a lying, treacherous monster!
Rosa kept muttering to herself all the time she was helping Ginny, forcing her to eat. She did not speak Castilian Spanish, of course, and Ginny often found it difficult to understand her, especially when she was upset and spoke fast, or under her breath.
“Dona Genia,” (this was what Rosa insisted upon calling her) “you must look your best. Whatever might happen, it’s good to be prepared.”
“But what could possibly happen? I’m not afraid of a little girl’s threats. No—even if this—this person she kept calling el patrón were to decide upon murdering me, I wouldn’t care! In some ways, I’d prefer it.”
“Ay di mi!” Rosa crossed herself quickly, “do not talk like that! It brings bad luck. But el patrón, though a fierceman, is also fair. Yes, he’d see justice done, although—I don’t know—it’s said Dona Ana is a favorite with him. It was el patrón, of course, who arranged it all.”
“Who arranged what? Are you seriously trying to tell me that—that senor Esteban allowed this el patrón to arrange a marriage for him?”
“But Dona Genia! ” Rosa looked at her as if she had lost her senses, “it is the custom of the country. Among the large hacendados all such marriages are arranged between the respective families—I’ve heard that when Dona Ana was no more than a baby her father spoke to Don Francisco, and of course…”
“Wait—wait!” Ginny pressed her palms against cheeks that were suddenly burning. “Rosa, you have me all confused. Who is Don Francisco? Is he Esteban’s grandfather? But then, why do you all keep calling him el patrón? ”
“Because he is el patrón. ” Rosa was round-eyed with surprise at Ginny’s ignorance, but a note of pride had crept into her voice. “Ah, Dona Genia, I thought you knew—everyone knows Don Francisco Alvarado! Why, it is said he’s one of the richest men in Mexico; certainly his hacienda is the largest. Not even the Juaristas dare attack these lands—even the French, those murderers, they are full of respect—once the emperor and empress visited here, and Don Francisco has stayed in the palace at Chapultepec.”
Ginny had been standing, studying her reflection somewhat pensively in the mirror, but now she sat down suddenly.
She remembered Ana’s shrill voice saying so proudly, “I’m to be married to Don Francisco’s heir!” Steve Morgan, the man she had so contemptuously called a half-breed—the man she’d believed to be nothing more than a professional gunfighter and a thief—he was the grandson of a Spanish grandee, the heir to millions? No, it was unbelievable!
“So he’s rich!” she whispered aloud. “He could have been a gentleman, he could have stayed here and married as his grandfather obviously wants him to do, but instead…”
She became aware that Rosa was staring at her worriedly, and her lips tightened. She was filled with a surge of fresh hatred, coupled with a burning sense of outrage. “He can’t be allowed to get away with it! To bring me here, parade me as his mistress, treat me so abominably as he’s done, when all the time—yes, all the time there’s been no valid reason for any of his actions! Why did he have to steal my father’s money? Why become an outlaw? Why take me and treat me worse than a whore when he’s betrothed to this girl Ana, who’s no doubt just as rich, and with a fat dowry to give him as well? What’s the point?”
She was suddenly so angry that she sprang to her feet, brushing past the astounded Rosa as she sped into the living room. She did not know what she intended to do, perhaps find Renaldo, face him with her new-found knowledge and her bitter accusations. But she wouldn’t stay here any longer, she would go, she would do—something! Anything to end this farce, to retrieve her own pride.
“Dona Genia, Dona Genia!” Rosa wailed behind her.
And at that moment, when Ginny had almost reached the door in her headlong flight, it was opened unexpectedly from the outside, and a man stepped into the room.
“What is wrong here? Why was there no one to answer our knocking?”
They stared at each other, the tall old man and the panting, distraught young woman. Don Francisco’s cold blue eyes took in every inch of her appearance before they became hooded and unreadable—his lined, craggy face looked stern and implacable in spite of the faint, rather sarcastic smile that thinned his lips.
“El patrón!” Before Rosa could utter the words in a trembling, awestruck voice, Ginny had known who he was. Steve’s grandfather. There was some resemblance; perhaps in the way his eyes had raked over her without seeming to.
Unconsciously, Ginny had straightened her shoulders, her chin lifted in an almost childish gesture of stubbornness and pride.
“I am sorry, Don Francisco, that there was no one outside to welcome you. Rosa was busy, attending to my toilette, and I’d hardly expected visitors.”
“I’m sorry I had no time to give you formal warning of my visit, Miss Brandon. Unfortunately I had no idea, earlier, that I would be paying this call. Will you not sit down? I think we ought to talk privately.” His eagle eyes flicked to Rosa. “You can go, woman. I’ve no intention of harming your mistress.”
Politely, Don Francisco handed Ginny to a chair, his manners as courtly as Renaldo’s. She was dumbstruck, feeling more than ever like a puppet, or a pawn in a chess game. What did he want of her? What was he going to say? Surprisingly, she was not afraid—she had come too far for that. But she was determined not to speak a single word until he spoke first.
There was always a decanter of wine left on the low table here, and Don Francisco walked over to it, pouring out two glasses of wine as casually as if he had been in his own house.
“You’ll drink a glass of wine with an old man, mademoiselle? ” Again Ginny was amazed that he knew so much about her, even the fact that she had been brought up as a Frenchwoman.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, watching his face as he handed a glass to her, and then raised his own to sniff the bouquet.
“An excellent wine. My grandson has good taste in a few things at least, I’m glad to find. A pity that in so many other ways he is little better than a savage.”
Ginny could not prevent herself from reddening. She took a sip of wine, to cover her sudden sense of embarrassment under his long, open scrutiny. Did he expect her to make some response to his gently barbed comment? No, he had come here on purpose to see her, let him instigate the conversation.
Don Francisco twirled the stem of the glass between his fingers, taking his time while he considered what he would say. She was a surprise, this Miss Ginny Brandon. A pleasant one, fortunately. Well, he could usually depend on Renaldo to speak the truth, but he preferred to form his own impressions, trusting no one.
In this case, however, his intuition had already told him that Renaldo was right. From the first moment he had set eyes on her, had seen her deep green eyes widen with shock, noticed the way in which she had so valiantly composed herself soon after, he had known this was no ordinary woman that his wild young grandson had seen fit to bring here. So it had been kidnap, had it? By God, Don Francisco thought with sudden rage, the young whelp has reverted to the dark ages! So he’d abducted a lady and treated her like a whore. But why? Could he, of all men, always so casual about his conquests, have actually fallen in love with this young woman?
She was, of course, fully aware of his long, brooding gaze. Cleverly, she had apparently decided to remain silent, allowing him to take the initiative. To his own surprise, Don Francisco found himself rather looking forward to the battle of wits which must follow. For this woman was no whimpering ninny, he had seen that already. And according to his besotted nephew, she was possessed of an unusual degree of intelligence and charm as well.
Don Francisco permitted himself to smile slightly at the green-eyed mademoiselle. Her long-lashed eyes gazed steadily back at him, but he’d noticed how tightly her hands were clasped together on her lap. He liked women with spirit. Clearly, Esteban had not been able to tame her yet—he could almost chuckle inwardly, now he had met her, when he recalled what Renaldo had told him of the knife wound she had given his rash cousin.
“Well, mademoiselle, ” he said aloud, his voice softly persuasive, “don’t you think it’s time I learned your whole story from your own lips? You will have to excuse my directness—I’m an old man, and past the age when I enjoyed preliminary sparrings. I should tell you that I’ve heard a long and rather incoherent tale from Ana, and I’ve talked to my nephew Renaldo, who seems to think a great deal of you. Will you tell me if it’s true?”
“But which story are you referring to, Don Francisco? I’m quite positive that Ana took a violent dislike to me, and I’m ashamed to say I lost my temper—but Renaldo, I think, is my friend. I didn’t know that Steve had—poor Renaldo, he must feel terribly guilty!”
“ Mademoiselle —I hope you’ll not disappoint me by playing with words.” The sudden sharpness in Don Francisco’s voice made Ginny’s eyes flash. Her look held defiance.
“Words, sir? You must forgive me. If I hesitate and beat around the bush it’s merely because I’m rather confused, and embarrassed as well. After all, the reason for my being here is so—so sordid, and yet so simple! Your grandson, the man I knew as Steve Morgan, brought me here. I’m his—his…” She had been going to say quite straightforwardly that she was his mistress, and see what conclusions the old man drew, but somehow the words stuck in her throat, she bit her lip, and her eyes dropped in spite of herself.
Ginny sensed rather than saw Don Francisco’s hand move impatiently.
“Miss Brandon! Again, I apologize. Naturally, this whole subject is distasteful to you. But I can assure you that if you choose to trust me with your confidence you’ll find that all the men of my family are not completely devoid of honor!”
There was a repressed note of anger in his voice that made her lift her head and stare at him wonderingly.
“But what can you do? It’s too late, even I can see that now. Steve kidnapped me—oh, at first he said that I was to be a hostage—just to insure that his friends got away safely with the money they stole—but afterwards—oh, no, I don’t think I can bear to talk about it! Please—think anything you want to, I don’t care! All I want is to get away, to go far away where he can never find me, where I’ll be able to forget everything, everything!”
When Don Francisco frowned, his bushy white brows came together, and he looked like a thundercloud. But in this instance his frowns were not directed at Ginny—rather, at his own thoughts.
“What! You say my grandson stole as well? And that he’s treated you badly? Miss Brandon, come, live up to my first expectations of you, when I saw you standing there, your eyes flashing at me so dangerously. I must know everything, and not from any motive of ghoulish curiosity, as you’ll learn when you come to know me better. I am the head of my family, mademoiselle, and honor, to me, is not an empty word. It is a way of life, it is my life! What touches any member of my family affects me—perhaps I’m old-fashioned—but there are some things I will not tolerate! You must tell me everything, I insist upon it!”
His fingers closed compellingly over her wrist; looking down Ginny saw the veined hand of an old man, but the fingers were as strong as steel—as imperious as Steve’s had ever been. Suddenly, Ginny was beginning to realize the strength in this man, the power in his eyes that now fixed on hers so unwaveringly. She understood now why everyone she had spoken to here held him in such awe—no, not just that, but were actually afraid of him!
She felt mesmerized. In a toneless voice, stumbling over her words, she began to speak at last, sparing nothing, not even herself, and that part of the blame which attached to her for her own weakness, her first blind, virginal passion for the man she had begun to hate and despise so completely.
It was over at last—she had told him everything, her throat was so dry that she felt she could not utter one more word. She drooped in her chair, keeping her eyes turned away from Don Francisco’s, and gulped thirstily at the fresh glass of wine he proffered her as if it had been nothing but water.
Now what would he do? Perhaps he’d have her killed, or gotten out of the way by some other method, to hide the stain on his family’s honor! She could put nothing past him, he was Steve’s grandfather, after all, and his harsh demands for her to talk, to go on speaking even when her voice trembled and her eyes had filled with tears, had been just as inexorable in their way as Steve’s had been. Don Francisco was like a king here, among his people, the law could not touch him, no one could! And after all, who else knew that she was here? What could she possibly matter to him in comparison to his daughter’s own child, his heir?
Why doesn’t he say something? Ginny wondered wildly, why doesn’t he do something to end this strain once and for all? After all, it doesn’t matter to me any longer, one way or the other, I’m so tired, so mentally exhausted I just don’t care!
“So—it’s worse, even, than I had thought. He’s gone too far this time, and I cannot permit his folly and recklessness to go further.” Don Francisco spoke quietly enough, almost as if he spoke to himself, but some steely quality had been added to his voice that made Ginny tremble. What did he mean? Before she could ask him, he continued, still in the same low, rather harsh voice—the voice of a man who had brooked no opposition all his life, and was used to getting his own way. “I don’t know what kind of stupid, irresponsible schemes Esteban has become mixed up in, but I’ll find out when he gets back. You see, Miss Brandon, I hardly know my grandson! Ever since my daughter Luisa brought him back here as a child, I’ve tried to make a gentleman of him—even as a child he resisted me! I disciplined him, I’ve whipped his back until I drew blood, and yet, over and over again, he defied me. Then, when he was older, he began to run away. He’d be found, and brought back, but then he’d run away again. Finally I decided that like the wild falcons he needed room in which to try his wings—he needed life to teach him the lessons that I could not. And now I see what’s happened. He has learned nothing, except to please himself—to take whatever he wants without a thought to the consequences. Well, by God—this time he shall have some consequences to face! He’ll fulfill his obligations as a gentleman and my grandson, or I will kill him myself, before the law of your country, or your father does so!”
Don Francisco’s voice had become stronger, he slammed the riding whip he carried against the side of the chair, and Ginny put her hand against her mouth to stop herself from gasping out loud as his meaning suddenly forced itself into her muddled brain.
He turned towards her suddenly, his eyes sweeping over her keenly before he caught her cold hands in his dry, warm clasp.
“You’re very beautiful, my dear child. And you’re strong and spirited—I like that. Well, I cannot undo what has already been done, nor can I offer you sufficient reparation for the wrongs you have suffered, but I can offer you a solution that would spare you any further anguish or humiliation. My grandson will marry you, as soon as he returns.”
For a long, stunned moment Ginny stared at him like a wild creature, unable to believe that she had heard right. Then, with a cry, she tried to withdraw her hands from his grasp, but he held them fast.
“No! You don’t know what you are saying! Steve would not—he would never—oh, but you don’t know him! He’d never submit to a forced marriage, this is the nineteenth century after all, and besides—besides I hate him!” she ended on a curiously childish note.
“Listen to me, Virginia!” The stern note in Don Francisco’s voice made Ginny stare at him with her lips parted, still ready to burst forth with fresh denials. “You must set aside your quite natural reaction and try to realize that the solution I’ve offered you is the only possible one, for your own sake. It is to save your reputation that I suggest it. Too many people know that Esteban ran off with you, but if you were to return to your family later, as his wife, don’t you see how different their reactions would be? An elopement—there’d be some whispering, no doubt, but you and your family could still hold your heads up. Soon, people will be saying how romantic it all was. You see, my child, I know human nature. You’d be a respectable married woman—and a rich one, I might add. I will make a marriage settlement upon you that will be more than considerable, and if you chose to return to America later, or even to France, you would be independent. Do you understand?”
“No,” she said weakly again. “No, it’s quite impossible! You must see that! Even if I agreed, Steve would never do so—he’s not the kind of man who can be forced into doing anything he does not want to do. And he’d make me suffer.”
“Esteban will do whatever I tell him to do in this instance! You’re forgetting, my dear, that this is Mexico, and not the United States. He understands our customs, even though he’s always rebelled against them. He’ll do it—because I’ll allow him no other alternative. And I’ll see to it that he treats you with the respect and consideration that is your due as his wife. No—this time Esteban will not escape his responsibilities as easily as he’s done in the past.”
Ginny continued to stare at this strange, almost frighteningly domineering man; still feeling as if she were dreaming.
“But if he refuses?”
“If he refuses, he is no longer my grandson, and will take the consequences. Do you realize, young woman, that I’ve had men on my hacienda shot for much less? I think Esteban understands this much about me—when I explain matters to him he’ll have no difficulty in comprehending that the only other alternative I’ll give him is a felon’s death!”
The inexorable note in Don Francisco’s voice struck through Ginny’s mounting feeling of unreality, and she felt the blood drain from her face. He meant it then, he meant every word that he’d been saying!
“I’ve dreamed of being revenged, of making him suffer. Yes, I’ve even longed for his death, and I’ve almost brought it about. But this—no, this is too much! I’ve seen enough violence, I won’t be the cause of more.”
“Then you’ll marry him. Leave Esteban to me, he’ll not hurt you again, for I’ll see to it. He’ll give me his word, and for all his irresponsible ways, I’ve never known him to break it, once given. If you’ve wanted revenge, child, this is your chance. You’ll be his wife, and no matter what happens later, you’ll bear his name, legally. He owes you that much, and more!”
“I don’t know what to say!”
“You have agreed, have you not? Well, then—you must come with me now. I’ll give you your own suite of rooms at the hacienda, and a duenna. No need to worry about gossip here—once I make the announcement that you are to be my granddaughter-in-law, you’ll soon see that there’ll be no more unpleasant talk. No arguments—you look exhausted. Rosa will pack for you.”
Arrogant, not even listening to her feeble protests, Don Francisco swept all before him, and by nightfall, Ginny found herself installed at the grande hacienda —an especially honored guest of el patrón himself.