“A pretty picture,” I said. “Marry your Luis if you so need to marry. Have your children. What matters it, one man is as good as another to some.”
“Why do you speak thus? Ah, I know. It is because my way is plain. Yours is not. You are not indifferent to Felipe. You change when he is in the house. I am sorry Catalina that Isabella stands in your way.”
“Isabella stands in your way.” The phrase haunted me. I dreamed of Felipe often. And he was there at the side of my bed and Isabella was beside him—a pale, shadowy child with a doll in her arms.
Honey and Luis were married in the Cathedral. She was the most beautiful bride I had ever seen and there was about her that serene happiness which had been there before Edwina’s birth.
Honey had always wanted to be loved, had blossomed with love; and there was no doubt that Luis adored her.
The wedding was celebrated at the Hacienda and there was feasting and the people of the surrounding villages were invited to come and dance which they did in the gardens. It was a wonderful sight with the girls and young men in the traditional costumes dancing the Andalusian dances which had been brought from the mainland. They danced and sang to the tunes played on the timple and I heard for the first time the Isa and the Folias.
Songs were sung praising the newly married couple and marriage in general, and afterward the bride and groom returned to the bedchamber and there was none of that ribaldry which would have accompanied such a ceremony at home.
That night I lay sleepless for a long time and I thought: We are farther from home than ever. Honey has accepted her fate and if we could go home now she would not leave her husband. Honey has become one of them. And how could I go and leave Honey here?
I thought: If my mother knew where I was; if I might see her now and then, I could do worse than marry Felipe. He would be a good and devoted husband; Roberto loved his father—how could I separate them?
I was becoming more and more convinced that my life lay here.
In my dreams I took Don Felipe’s hand and I was to be married in the Cathedral, for I would adopt his faith; and then I heard the childish tinkling laughter of Isabella.
And I awoke with the words “Not while Isabella lives” ringing in my ears.
Felipe wished us to take a trip inland …
It would be good for the children, he said. I had only seen the great mountain Pico de Teide from the sea. I should see how truly magnificent it was. He himself had to go to another part of the island, and while he was away our nursery should be transported to a house in the valley which he used sometimes. His servants would look after us. We would come back refreshed after our little holiday.
I knew that there was some motive behind this suggestion. Don Felipe was a man of mysteries. One would often wonder how much his inner feelings belied those which he expressed, but this, in a manner, was a source of fascination to me.
When I learned that there was to be an auto-da-fé in La Laguna I thought I understood. Members of his household would be expected to attend and I was known to be an important member of that household—the Governor’s mistress. If I were absent, this would be noted. He did not wish to expose me to that which he knew was abhorrent to me; moreover, he would doubtless fear that I might betray my repulsion. Hence our trip into the mountains.
I was touched by his concern for me. I was beginning more and more to enjoy basking in his care for me.
We set out on mules with packhorses to carry all that we wished to take with us. We had a litter in which the children traveled and Honey. Jennet, Manuela and I took it in turns to ride with them. Sometimes we would carry one before us on our mule. It was a great game to them.
Carlos, with Jacko in his wake, was adventurous. What one would expect, I thought, of Jake Pennlyon’s sons. I believe he had completely put behind him those nightmare days in the shack behind the Casa Azul. He was a child who would come through life unscathed, like his father. There was nothing of poor Isabella in him; he was all Jake Pennlyon. Jacko would be the same, for he followed Carlos in all things.
It was not a long journey, some thirty miles in all, and I was struck by the exotic beauty of the land. We passed a magnificent old dragon tree which was said to be over two thousand years old. I remembered that it was from the resin of this tree that the native Guanches stained their skins when they went in to do battle with their Spanish conquerors. John Gregory—with whom I had formed a kind of understanding—told me of this. Richard Rackell also accompanied us and we took about six servants and a party of half a dozen strong men in case we should need protection.
I was amused by the amount of trouble Don Felipe had taken to get us away from La Laguna.
We arrived in due course at the house in the mountains where we were to stay. We were treated with great respect since we had come from the Governor’s Hacienda. And there in the shadow of the white-topped Pico de Teide we spent some pleasant days.
We rode out into the mountains; we gathered golden oranges; we played games with the children. It was a happy time. Honey missed Don Luis, who had remained behind to take charge in Felipe’s absence. As for myself I was content to be there in those impressive surroundings dominated by the great conical mountain. Felipe had given me books in Spanish so that I might learn something of Spain and improve my knowledge of the language. In these I had read of the Canaries too and of Tenerife in particular, which had been given the name of the Garden of Atlas in which golden apples grew. These were the oranges and the dragon trees were set there to guard this delightful spot.
It was with some regret that I turned my mule homeward toward La Laguna.
There a shock awaited us.
Isabella was dead.
A terrible fear came to me and hung over me like a dark shadow, for Isabella had fallen from the top of the staircase on the Casa Azul and broken her neck. It had happened five days after we had left—on the day of the auto-da-fé.
I was aghast. It had happened so neatly. I was away; Don Felipe was away. How many times had he said: “If it were not for Isabella”?
I wished that he had never mentioned marriage to me. I wished that Isabella was still in the patio at the Casa Azul playing with her dolls.
Don Felipe had come home. He greeted me courteously but coolly; but I was aware of the intensity of the passion which he suppressed.
Jennet was agog with excitement. It was she who told us how it had happened. She had had a detailed account from her lover in the stables.
I made her tell me all she knew.
“’Twere like this, Mistress,” she said, “’twere the day of the auto and the whole household had gone into Laguna.”
“Pilar would not leave her.”
“She did. She did this once. You see it was the day of the auto … a sacred duty to go.”
I closed my eyes. Oh, God, I thought. Everyone was sent away … because it was the day of the auto-da-fé. It was a sacred duty to attend. Everyone was afraid of not attending … and even Pilar went. Had he planned it just so?
“And what of her … the poor young creature?”
“Well, she didn’t go, Mistress. None ’ud expect her to. She was to stay behind with her dolls.”
“Someone was with her?”
“Edmundo, the big man…” Jennet could not help the lilt in her voice, even when recounting such an event as this, at the mention of Edmundo, the big man. “He were there. Working in the garden. He could see to her if she was took bad. They say he could lift her when she was kicking and screaming as easy as though she were a rag doll.”