Home > Books > The Spanish Daughter(96)

The Spanish Daughter(96)

Author:Lorena Hughes

*

When I woke up, I was lying on a bed in a dim room with the curtains drawn. It was a tiny room—I’d never been here before. Martin was sitting on a chair next to the bed. Behind him was a shelf filled with ornaments of all kinds: vases, glass containers, dolls. He spoke as soon as I opened my eyes.

“You’re in Julia’s room,” he said. “Julia is here, too.”

I took this as a warning not to say anything about us in front of her. I looked around some more. Indeed, Julia was standing by my side with a moist cloth in her hand. Oddly, Ramona was there, too.

“Don Cristóbal, you scared us! We thought we’d lost you. You have to be careful with that mare,” she said. “Not even Don Armand liked to ride her, and he was an experienced rider.”

And yet Martin had made me ride her the first day. I fixed my eyes on him, then sat up.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Getting up.”

“Oh, no, Don Cristóbal. You have to rest here for a while and wait until the doctor arrives.”

A doctor? So he could see what my body—my female body—looked like?

“That won’t be necessary,” I said, trying to stand, but the entire room started spinning around me.

“Benito already went to town to get one,” she said.

“Who?”

“The boy that takes care of the horses.” She approached the bed.

I lay down again, my breathing agitated.

“Look at you with that suit. You must be suffocating. Let me help you with that.” Julia proceeded to undo my tie. “I told Don Martin that we needed to remove these clothes, but he wouldn’t let me.” She turned to Martin. “You see? The poor man is sweating. He’s going to catch a cold now.”

“Just leave him be, Julia. You shouldn’t be moving his head. I’ll help him out of his clothes later when he’s feeling better. Now go back to the kitchen. I’m sure your mistresses are up already.”

Grumbling, Julia walked out. What a relief.

I closed my eyes.

“Puri,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Angélica, but I don’t want you to think that I’ve been using you or anything like that. The truth is . . .” He stopped.

I opened my eyes and looked at him.

“The truth is I like you. Very much.”

“Is that why you wanted me to ride the most finicky mare here?”

“Well, in the beginning, I was angry, too, but it was only meant as a joke. I didn’t want you to get hurt.” He held my hand. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

I removed my hand, avoiding his face. I looked around Julia’s room—it was so neat and organized, just like she was, but she owned a lot of things. I would’ve never imagined she collected so many things. There was a porcelain tea set, ceramic birds, dolls and marionettes of different sizes, jars, candles.

“I don’t know if this makes any difference to you,” he said, “but I haven’t been intimate with Angélica in a few weeks.”

Was that why she’d been crying that night in her room?

“It doesn’t,” I said. Knowing that Martin had loved my sister was devastating and I didn’t think anything would make it better. “But if you truly like me, then answer this. What was all that nonsense about looking through my father’s drawer? You know what’s in there?”

“A chess board.”

“Yes. What’s so important about a chess game?”

He covered his face with his hand. “My father lost this entire plantation over a chess game.”

“What?” I didn’t think I’d heard him right.

“My father became consumed with chess. It was all he thought about night and day. At first, it was just a hobby. He just wanted to learn the game, but then he started buying books, learning all the tricks, all the possible combinations. He had manuals sent from Spain and some from the United States that he translated into Spanish vehemently. He studied them thoroughly. He would pose problems that he tried to solve all day long. He stopped working. All he wanted was to master the game. Your father took advantage of that. Don Armand was an innate chess player, and my father couldn’t stand it. One day, they made a bet. My father was out of his mind by then. One day, he just came and told me and my mother that he’d lost the hacienda. Just like that.”

So the hacienda belonged to Martin?

“It ended up killing my mother. Her heart couldn’t take the shame of having to move to the guest house and everybody in town knowing it. She tried for a while, but it eventually killed her.”

 96/108   Home Previous 94 95 96 97 98 99 Next End