Captain From Castile by Samuel Shellabarger

Author:Samuel Shellabarger
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 9781461623380
Publisher: Bridgeworks
Published: 2013-07-10T16:00:00+00:00

XLIV

UNDER the circumstances, Señora Hernandez felt justified in revealing a secret to the Marquis, which, indeed, had not troubled her, but which it had once been vital to keep. Following him into the garden that afternoon, she found Carvajal moodily seated on a bench and staring with vacant eyes at a stone satyr who leered from a clump of oleanders. She remarked, not for the first time, how much older he had grown during the past months. Sometimes he had an almost bewildered expression, the expression of a man whose rule of life has backfired and left him nothing in its place.

“Well?” he said abruptly when she curtsied.

“I have something on my conscience, Your Grace, which I think you should know,” Antonia began. “It concerns Doña Luisa.”

Carvajal bridled. “The devil! Something unpleasant no doubt. I hear nothing else these days. Even in my privacy, people hunt me down.”

“No, Your Grace, perhaps this will not be unpleasant—I can’t say—though you will have to forgive me.”

“Get on with it then.”

Antonia was taking something of a chance in confessing her laxness as a chaperon, but she guessed rightly that the substance of her report would be welcome enough to insure pardon. As she described the meeting of Luisa and Pedro at the garden gate, Carvajal’s features relaxed into indulgent benevolence. “Ah, the little rascal!” he put in about Luisa. “The young rogue!” referred to Pedro. “Naughty señora!” he smiled at the duenna.

When she had finished, he said, “I am displeased with you, Antonia.” The use of her first name was a sure sign of favor. “Will you sit?” And when she was beside him, he repeated, “Yes, much displeased. A very improper señora.” He patted her hand. “But youth will be served, eh? And I have to admit that I’m glad of this. So the young rogue loves her, does he? A pity I did not know of it at the time. How much it would have saved, Antonia! You did wrong to conceal it, very wrong.”

With a memory more discreet than Luisa’s, Señora Hernández did not choose to remind him of the water which had flowed under the bridge since then, nor of what would certainly have happened if she had reported the meeting at the time.

He began thinking aloud. “The de Vargases are not rich. Their claims to dowry would be modest; they would possibly ask little or nothing. No, not rich—but in favor. That’s the point. . . . You’re sure young Pedro’s in love with her?”

“Most certainly.”

“And she with him?”

Antonia remembered Luisa’s confidence after church. “I’ll vouch for that.”

“Then it can be arranged. We’ll have her marriage annulled. I still have money and influence enough for that. And we’ll build up to a more promising marriage. Let young de Vargas’s parents know how it stands between him and her, hint at a union, prepare the ground for his return. Finesse, Antonia, sutileza! I shall need your help.”

“I’m Your Grace’s servant.”

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