Page 8 of The Spanish Daughter (The Lost Daughters #5)

7

PRESENT DAY

This time when Rose stepped out onto the gravel driveway at the Santiago estate, she didn’t feel quite so out of place. She’d woken up in a beautiful hotel, discovered upon checking out that the entire bill, including room service from the night before, had already been taken care of, and now she was getting out of a taxi and bringing her suitcase and bag with her.

After paying the driver, Rose stood for a moment and watched the car go, wanting to wait until she was alone to walk up to the front door of the house. She fumbled in her bag for the key, which was hanging from a ring with a small silver horse on it, and lugged her things up the three steps. She almost knocked, just to make sure no one was inside, but the lawyer’s words from the day before kept echoing through her mind.

‘All of it is yours, Rose,’ he’d said, pointing to the map that was spread over his desk as they sat in his office. ‘This property is almost one hundred hectares, and you can see the boundary clearly marked here. With it comes the homestead and the stables, as well as a small holding of land in Mendoza that Valentina bought back some years ago, which I can arrange to have shown to you at your earliest convenience.’

‘Mendoza?’ she’d asked.

‘It’s where the Santiago family continued to build upon their great fortune when they arrived here from Spain. They once owned the largest property in the region but that, my dear, is a story for another day. Perhaps we can meet for dinner before you go, so that I can share more of the family’s history with you?’

Rose had agreed to meet with him for dinner before her flight to New York, curious to hear everything she could about the mysterious Santiago family, but for now she was looking forward to discovering the property and the house that came with it.

She turned the handle, resisting the urge to call out ‘hello,’ which was as hard not to do as knocking had been. But it was obvious once she was inside that there was nobody in the house. Rose had been told that there was still a housekeeper who called in twice a week, and who’d made up the main bedroom for her as well as a downstairs room in case she preferred it, and she was surprised at how lived-in the house felt. She’d presumed it would feel dusty or stifling inside, given that no one had lived there for some months now, but it felt as if it had just been aired out. And when she walked down the hallway, she could see fresh flowers on the table at the end. Someone had clearly gone to some effort to make the house feel welcoming to her ahead of her arrival.

Rose left her luggage in the hallway as she kept walking, heading into the kitchen and finding a large space with huge windows that faced out over the property. She could see horses grazing in the distance, the windows framing a view that looked like an artist had painted it, which made her realise just how easy it would be to fall head over heels with the property.

She stood for a moment, her hands splayed on the granite kitchen counter as she stared outside, wondering how she’d gone from looking out of the small windows of her London flat one day, staring at a gloomy sky, to being here today.

Rose turned on her heel then, suddenly feeling melancholy as her mind filled with thoughts of home, and in turn her mother. She ran her fingertips beneath her eyes to brush away tears as she looked into the living room and then another room that she guessed might once have been used to host parties, but was now full of furniture and paintings propped against walls—a storage room of sorts.

She walked up the stairs, loving how cool the house felt despite the warmth outside. Everything about the architecture felt Spanish in style, from the high ceilings to the terracotta tiles in the foyer, and as she found her way to the bedrooms, she immediately saw the billowing white drapes in the room at the farthest end of the hall.

Rose walked slowly towards the room, feeling welcomed by it somehow, glancing into every other bedroom as she passed, counting five in total. But when she walked into the room ahead of her, she immediately felt at home.

There was a small jar of flowers on the bedside table, along with a note, and as she read it she sat on the white bedcovers, glancing up and admiring the wooden four-poster bed that somehow felt as if it came from another age.

Dear Miss Santiago,

I have worked for Valentina Santiago for the past twelve years, and the more time that passed, the more she talked about the daughter she was forced to part with. Her guilt over the years has become immeasurable, but her only comfort was that one day she could leave everything to her biological granddaughter or great-granddaughter. Valentina was a kind, wonderful woman who would do anything for anyone, and I will never forget our spirited conversations, or the way I would find her sometimes staring out of the window, lost in thought, as she imagined how her life might have turned out if things had been different.

I’ve left fresh towels in the bathroom for you, and there is enough food in the pantry to last a few days, as well as coffee and other things you might find yourself in need of. I’ve also put some meals in the fridge that you can heat up. I hope to meet you on Friday, when I’m scheduled to work next.

Yours truly,

Clara

Rose set the note back down on the bedside table, appreciating the kind gesture but finding it hard not to be disappointed. When she’d seen it sitting there, her heart had leapt for a moment, thinking it might have been left by Valentina herself.

She stood then, looking in at the adjoining beautifully tiled bathroom before going to stand at the bedroom window, loving the gentle breeze that whispered through the just-open frames. Rose wished that she could have brought Jessica with her, so that at least one other person in her life could have seen what she was seeing. Perhaps then, it might have been easier to believe that she wasn’t dreaming.

Just as she was about to take her phone from her pocket to call Jessica and insist that she and the children schedule a holiday there soon, a figure in the distance caught her eye. There was a man on horseback heading towards the stables, and she couldn’t be sure, but she thought it might have been the same man whom she’d glimpsed the day before.

Rose decided to leave her exploration of the house until later, walking quickly back downstairs and stopping only to find the small wooden box that was in her handbag, reaching in and taking out the little horse figurine and slipping it into the pocket of her jeans. She left her hand there, liking the way the figurine fitted into her palm as she hurried through the house to another door that was positioned much more closely to the stables.

She kicked off her sandals there and slipped her feet into a pair of brown leather boots that were only slightly too big for her, closing the door behind her and crossing the expanse of grass that separated the two buildings. Trees had been cleverly planted to provide shade, and she saw that a large tabby cat was lounging beneath one of them.

Rose made a mental note to check whether she’d also inherited a cat along with the countless retired and current polo ponies that were on the list she’d been presented with, before clearing her throat to call out to the man who’d just disappeared ahead of her.

‘ Hola! ’ she called, raising her voice when she didn’t receive a response. ‘Hello there!’

She wished she’d spent her time the night before looking up Spanish phrases rather than falling asleep watching Netflix on her phone, but as she was trying to think of what else to call out, the man turned.

Rose quickened her step to catch up with him, surprised that he was scowling at her rather than smiling. He was incredibly handsome, with ink-black hair and eyes to match, his skin tanned bronze from working outside under the sun, but he would have looked better if his face wasn’t dragged down into a frown.

‘You must be Benjamin,’ she said, a little breathless from rushing after him.

He folded his arms across his chest. ‘You’re late.’

She went to laugh, but noticed that he seemed very serious, and she felt her eyes widen. This was not quite the welcome she’d expected.

‘Late?’ she finally said. ‘I didn’t know we’d arranged?—’

‘Thank you for coming, but you’re not right for the position. I don’t accept tardiness. Please see yourself off the property.’

He turned on his heel and began to walk away again, and Rose found herself hurrying after him once more, only this time she touched his arm to force him to stop, not sure whether to laugh or be offended.

‘I think we’re at cross-purposes here,’ she said. ‘I’m Rose, Rose Bellamy. Valentina Santiago was my great-grandmother, and I’ve just arrived in Argentina from London.’

Benjamin went from staring at the fingers still touching his arm, to lifting his gaze to meet hers, taking a step back as he raised one hand to his head and muttered something in Spanish that she guessed contained an expletive.

‘Please accept my sincerest apologies,’ he said, his face creasing as he lowered his hand and offered her a smile. ‘I was expecting someone else.’

‘Someone who was late for a job interview, perhaps?’ she asked, finding herself grinning at how embarrassed he looked. ‘It seems you have very high expectations.’

‘Something like that,’ he muttered, before groaning and extending his hand. ‘Can we start again?’

‘Of course,’ Rose replied, pressing her palm to his, before repeating what she’d said earlier. ‘You must be Benjamin.’

‘And you must be the long-lost Rose Santiago,’ he said. ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.’

She didn’t correct him on her surname; she figured there would be plenty of time to explain it all to him later, and she was too busy enjoying the feel of his rough, slightly calloused fingers against hers to disagree with him. He was far more handsome when he was smiling.

‘You’ve caught me in between rides, and I’d be more than happy to show you around, if that’s what you’d like?’ He paused and seemed to study her face. ‘I’ve been desperately hoping that whoever inherited this place would have a deep-seated love of polo. Please tell me I was correct?’

Rose grimaced. ‘I hate to disappoint you, but I know nothing about horses, so this is very much outside of my knowledge base.’ She hesitated at the hopeful look on his face. ‘But I can see that polo is the lifeblood of this property, so I will do my best to learn quickly. It’s fair to say that I’m a little overwhelmed at this point.’

‘I understand, it’s a lot to take in.’ He nodded and gestured for her to follow him. ‘This property was once home to Basilio Santiago, Valentina’s father, who was a very gifted polo player. My great-great-grandfather was his right-hand man, so our families have a very long history that stretches back generations.’

‘He worked for the family?’

‘He not so much worked as lived and breathed polo with your Basilio. The story goes that they bonded over playing polo together in Spain, and Basilio offered him a generous salary to return to Argentina with him and run his stables. He trusted him with everything when it came to his horses, and they became very close friends over the years.’

Rose nodded, fascinated with the little slice of family history Benjamin had bestowed upon her. She’d expected it to be difficult to glean the information she sought, but it seemed that Benjamin knew a lot about the property, and her heritage.

‘Clearly polo runs in your family then,’ she said, smiling.

He laughed, his eyes meeting hers as if she’d said something funny. ‘I could say the same thing of yours,’ he said. ‘Valentina might not have ridden in recent years, but, Rose, polo runs in your blood just as deeply as it does in mine.’

She hesitated, not sure how much to tell him. There was a chance he knew more than he was letting on, but there was also a chance that he knew nothing about how she was connected to the family. She wondered if he was as curious about how she’d come to inherit the estate as she was herself.

‘Benjamin, did you know that Valentina had a daughter? I mean, my assumption is that most people would have presumed that she was a spinster.’

He laughed. ‘A spinster? Valentina Santiago?’

Rose wasn’t sure whether to laugh with him or not, but it was so strange to her that the man she’d just met possibly knew more about her family history than she did.

‘I wouldn’t call her a spinster as such. I’m sure the whole story will unravel itself once you’ve been here a while, but you’re right: we never knew she had a family of her own. I just associate the word spinster with a helpless old woman who never found the life she wanted, and that’s not how I would describe the woman I knew. Valentina was full of life, and she’s the only eighty-year-old woman I’ve ever seen riding a polo pony.’

‘So my grandmother, Valentina’s daughter, wasn’t ever mentioned, or?—’

‘Come this way,’ Benjamin said, cutting her off and placing his hand to her back as he guided her. ‘I have some very special residents for you to meet.’

Rose didn’t like the way he’d interrupted her, but then she also understood that he might not want to talk about his former employer with her yet. She was asking him personal questions about a woman he’d clearly admired despite her old age—she would have to contact the lawyer to see what more she could uncover.

‘These are my polo ponies,’ Benjamin said, gesturing with his arm for her to look at all the horses blinking back at them, their heads over the half-doors of their stables. ‘Well, in fact some of them are your polo ponies that I have the privilege of riding, and I’m very much hoping to continue riding them.’

Rose nodded. She couldn’t get her head around the fact that she now owned the land they were standing on, let alone the horses that lived there. The past weeks and months were like a blur to her, and combined with the whirlwind trip to Argentina, it was all feeling more dream than reality.

‘There are so many of them,’ she said, counting a dozen as she looked up and down the row. ‘You need this many to play the sport?’

‘Some of them are old favourites, my high-goal ponies who’ve already proved themselves, and others are having their first season. It’s a busy stable.’

‘And the ones that are outside in the fields?’ she asked. ‘You don’t ride those ones?’

‘Some of them are youngstock that aren’t ready to be ridden yet, carefully bred with generations-old bloodlines, but Valentina also had a soft spot for the older horses, the ones that were retired from the game,’ he said, reaching out to touch the cheek of one of the equines as he stood beside the stall. ‘Many of the retired horses are rehomed privately, but those that were injured or simply too old would come back here to live out their days. She earmarked a significant amount of the property to be an equine retirement home of sorts.’

‘And if those older horses didn’t come here?’ she asked. ‘What would happen to them?’

Benjamin made a face and shook his head. ‘You don’t want to know. To many people, horses are too expensive to be cared for once they have no purpose. The ones that see out their days here are the lucky ones.’

Rose nodded. She was impressed with what she’d heard so far—she couldn’t not be—but she was also starting to realise just what she’d taken on when she’d signed the inheritance papers. Once the property was transferred into her name, her responsibilities would stretch further than just property maintenance, and the thought terrified her as much as it thrilled her. She now had fields full of retired ponies who would rely on her for their ongoing care.

‘Would you like me to give you a tour on horseback or on foot this afternoon?’ Benjamin asked, his smile impossible to look away from.

‘On foot,’ she replied. ‘Polo might be in my blood, but this girl likes to keep her feet firmly on the ground.’

It was then that she thought of her mum, a memory that hit her without warning as she remembered the last time she’d said those exact words, when her mother was trying to convince her to have a go at skiing. Rose had been too nervous to learn as an adult, but now when she looked back, she wished she’d said yes, just because it would have meant they’d spent even more time doing something together.

She looked away and pretended to be studying one of the horses, even reaching out to lift her hand to its muzzle. She was surprised how gently the horse touched her back, its breath warm against her outstretched palm.

‘Actually,’ Rose said, quickly wiping at her eyes before turning back to Benjamin. ‘If we can go slow, perhaps?—’

‘Horseback it is then,’ Benjamin said, looking delighted with her answer even though she hadn’t even finished her sentence.

‘So long as we go very slow. This is all new to me, remember,’ she said.

He nodded, his smile reaching his eyes and making her so pleased that she’d run after him to say hello. Even though she’d just arrived, she hated the thought of being alone in the large house, so to know that someone was on the property was reassuring. And she had the feeling that the more time she spent with him, the more she’d find out about the Santiago family.

‘I need to go and exercise some of the ponies before it gets too hot,’ he said, ‘but if there’s anything else I can help you with while you’re here…’

‘No, thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll just make my way back to the house and read through the endless pages of documents the lawyer gave me yesterday.’

‘I’ll come by the house later this afternoon for that tour,’ he said, nodding before taking a step backward. ‘And please, I hope you’ve already forgotten all about our first encounter, but if not, I hope you’ll accept my apology. I’m not usually so unfriendly to strangers.’

Rose believed him; she could see how warm and charming he was, and she returned his easy smile.

‘Actually, Benjamin,’ Rose said, as he was turning to walk away. She studied him for a moment, not sure whether to show it to him but knowing that she’d regret it later if she didn’t. She reached into her pocket and took out the horse figurine that she’d been carrying around all morning, rubbing her thumb over the groove of its body as she always did when it was in her hand. ‘Before you go, there’s something I’d like to show you.’

‘Show me?’ he asked.

Rose slowly opened her palm, looking from the figurine to his face as she asked the question. ‘I wondered if you might recognise this.’

His sharp intake of breath and the way he immediately reached for it told her that he more than recognised it. Benjamin’s face had drained of colour, and part of her wished she hadn’t shown him.

‘Recognise it?’ he said, as if she’d asked him a joke, his eyes meeting hers. ‘Of course I recognise it. Rose, this was carved by my great-grandfather.’

She watched as he stared down at it, silent until he slowly looked back up at her.

‘What I’d like to know is exactly how this came to be in your possession.’