suddenly popped into her head. Perhaps she pitied the woman who had found herself mixed up with this man.
Ramón shook his head slightly as he slowed the car in front of a pair of huge iron gates. ‘Yes, he was engaged once but even that was doomed from the start.’
Once again, the uneasiness that had gripped her earlier crept back. She wondered what Ramón had meant. Hadn’t the old woman on the train mentioned something about it? No matter. She was reluctant to hear more about Salvador at that moment. It was plain that Ramón was not overly fond of his so-called cousin but she must not let herself be influenced by prejudice at this stage.
‘You don’t like him much,’ she remarked.
‘No, not much,’ he sighed. ‘He’s too moody, too self-centred … you’ll see …’
* * *
El Pavón loomed darkly through the willow trees as they drove along the gravel drive and pulled up outside the main entrance to the hacienda. The soft glow from a pair of carriage lamps mounted on the front of the house gave just enough light to illuminate the few steps to the imposing wooden front door. So this was the place of her Spanish ancestors. Perhaps it was just the silence, the lack of moonlight and her fatigue but, to Alexandra, it seemed, in the blackness, like a giant, shadowy tomb, holding dangerous secrets to be discovered by those who dared penetrate its intimidating walls. For a moment, she wanted to run away, back to England, back to her comfortable life and forget this foreign venture altogether.
Everybody at the hacienda had gone to bed, except for José, the ageing but strong and wiry-looking manservant. No, Don Alonso had not yet returned, he explained. Yes, Doña Alexandra’s room was ready and there was plenty of hot water. Sarita, the maid, would bring a warm drink up to the
señorita
’s room in a few minutes and would help her prepare for bed, he announced.
Ramón accompanied Alexandra upstairs to check that everything was in order and she had all she needed, before bidding her goodnight.
Once alone, Alexandra looked round the huge room with its two tall windows opening on to a balcony. The impression of space was emphasized by the height of the ceiling and the whitewashed walls,bare of ornament except for a tapestry representing a pastoral scene, which hung over the canopied bed, a wooden crucifix on one wall and a magnificent mirror mounted above the dark oak dressing table.
Her gaze wandered from the delicate sparkling crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, with its shining candle lights, to the heavy curtains of thick silk. Alexandra loved everything: the elegant winged chair in the left-hand corner of the room, the carved cabinet that lay between the window and the Louis XVI writing desk; the antique bronze lamp and leatherbound books on the bedside table.
She walked across the room to admire the vase of spring blossoms that formed a colourful display on a chest of drawers between the windows. This room was furnished with exquisite simplicity and impeccable taste. Someone had taken a good deal of care to create a welcoming atmosphere. Overwhelmed with gratitude, her previous doubts and foreboding melted away.
There was a knock at the door as Sarita, the young maid, came in carrying a cup of steaming hot tea. She then moved to the adjoining bathroom and started to run Alexandra’s bath in the cast-iron pedestal tub before rejoining her to ask if she would like her to unpack the cases. Alexandra was thankful for the offer, suddenly overcome by a wave of weariness to which she had refused to submit throughout her long and eventful journey.
Half an hour later, she slipped between the silky sheets of a bed that must have dated from the last century. As Alexandra stared into the darkness, her mind wandered back to the church and the stranger who had so disturbed her. She found herself imagining what he might have said, had they not been interrupted.
An unfamiliar heat crept through her body as
Ramón shook his head slightly as he slowed the car in front of a pair of huge iron gates. ‘Yes, he was engaged once but even that was doomed from the start.’
Once again, the uneasiness that had gripped her earlier crept back. She wondered what Ramón had meant. Hadn’t the old woman on the train mentioned something about it? No matter. She was reluctant to hear more about Salvador at that moment. It was plain that Ramón was not overly fond of his so-called cousin but she must not let herself be influenced by prejudice at this stage.
‘You don’t like him much,’ she remarked.
‘No, not much,’ he sighed. ‘He’s too moody, too self-centred … you’ll see …’
* * *
El Pavón loomed darkly through the willow trees as they drove along the gravel drive and pulled up outside the main entrance to the hacienda. The soft glow from a pair of carriage lamps mounted on the front of the house gave just enough light to illuminate the few steps to the imposing wooden front door. So this was the place of her Spanish ancestors. Perhaps it was just the silence, the lack of moonlight and her fatigue but, to Alexandra, it seemed, in the blackness, like a giant, shadowy tomb, holding dangerous secrets to be discovered by those who dared penetrate its intimidating walls. For a moment, she wanted to run away, back to England, back to her comfortable life and forget this foreign venture altogether.
Everybody at the hacienda had gone to bed, except for José, the ageing but strong and wiry-looking manservant. No, Don Alonso had not yet returned, he explained. Yes, Doña Alexandra’s room was ready and there was plenty of hot water. Sarita, the maid, would bring a warm drink up to the
señorita
’s room in a few minutes and would help her prepare for bed, he announced.
Ramón accompanied Alexandra upstairs to check that everything was in order and she had all she needed, before bidding her goodnight.
Once alone, Alexandra looked round the huge room with its two tall windows opening on to a balcony. The impression of space was emphasized by the height of the ceiling and the whitewashed walls,bare of ornament except for a tapestry representing a pastoral scene, which hung over the canopied bed, a wooden crucifix on one wall and a magnificent mirror mounted above the dark oak dressing table.
Her gaze wandered from the delicate sparkling crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, with its shining candle lights, to the heavy curtains of thick silk. Alexandra loved everything: the elegant winged chair in the left-hand corner of the room, the carved cabinet that lay between the window and the Louis XVI writing desk; the antique bronze lamp and leatherbound books on the bedside table.
She walked across the room to admire the vase of spring blossoms that formed a colourful display on a chest of drawers between the windows. This room was furnished with exquisite simplicity and impeccable taste. Someone had taken a good deal of care to create a welcoming atmosphere. Overwhelmed with gratitude, her previous doubts and foreboding melted away.
There was a knock at the door as Sarita, the young maid, came in carrying a cup of steaming hot tea. She then moved to the adjoining bathroom and started to run Alexandra’s bath in the cast-iron pedestal tub before rejoining her to ask if she would like her to unpack the cases. Alexandra was thankful for the offer, suddenly overcome by a wave of weariness to which she had refused to submit throughout her long and eventful journey.
Half an hour later, she slipped between the silky sheets of a bed that must have dated from the last century. As Alexandra stared into the darkness, her mind wandered back to the church and the stranger who had so disturbed her. She found herself imagining what he might have said, had they not been interrupted.
An unfamiliar heat crept through her body as
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