The Stand-In Bride

‘By day I don’t believe it. But at night, when he accuses me in my nightmares-’ She shuddered and put her hands over her ears.

‘Stop it!’ Sebastian said urgently. He took hold of her and this time she didn’t draw away. He wasn’t sure how much she was even aware of him. ‘Maggie,’ he said, shaking her gently, ‘Maggie, listen to me. It’s over. He was bad and he was punished. It’s over. But you have to get on with your life.’

‘What kind of life can an Alva have? Bad stock, tainted, incapable of good-’

‘Don’t!’ he said, in a torment almost as great as hers. ‘You’re not an Alva. You never were. Your name is de Santiago, and you are my wife.’

‘I’m his wife!’ she cried.

‘No. You belong to me, now. Feel my arms about you. Feel how much I want you. Don’t let the dead claim you. There’s so much life for us.’

He kissed her eyes, her mouth, desperately trying to recall her from the cold place that threatened to suck her in. With all her heart she longed to respond to him. Perhaps Sebastian’s passion could recall her to life.

But almost at once they knew the truth. Sebastian looked into her face and saw not coldness but despair. Slowly he released his grip.

‘It’s too soon,’ he said haltingly. ‘You’re not well. Go back to bed. Try to sleep. We’ll talk again tomorrow.’

‘No more talking,’ she said. ‘There’s no point.’

She let him help her back to bed and tuck her up, then she turned away at once, closing her eyes.

They stayed a week, skiing until they were exhausted, eating together, talking little but with great courtesy. To their own ears they sounded like strangers shouting across a deep valley. He didn’t try to make love to her again.

On the night before their departure, as they were packing, Sebastian said, ‘What happens now?’

‘We go home. You’d better take me on that tour of your estates, introducing me to people.’

Almost imperceptibly he relaxed. ‘Thank you, Margarita, for staying with me,’ he said quietly. ‘I was afraid you would run away.’

She looked at him in astonishment. ‘Where to? There’s no escape.’

CHAPTER TEN

THEY returned home to find the house in a state of tension. Isabella had recovered her health well enough to enforce Sebastian’s prohibition on Catalina seeing Jose, and the girl was seething with rebellion. She telephoned Jose every day, but had been unable to slip out to see him.

‘And nor will you,’ Sebastian told her furiously. ‘He is an Alva, cousin of the man who destroyed my friend. You will not see him, and your marriage is out of the question.’

He didn’t think Maggie could hear, but she chanced to be within earshot. To her, he never mentioned Roderigo, and she had come to understand that his restraint grew out of concern for her. His manner to her now was always gentle and kind. But when she heard him speak of the Alva family in such a way she knew that the abyss between them was as wide and deep as ever.

Catalina sought tearful refuge with Maggie, who explained the situation as best she could.

‘It’s not his fault,’ Catalina said passionately.

‘No, it isn’t Jose’s fault,’ Maggie agreed. ‘But this goes very deep with Sebastian, so don’t hope for him to change his mind.’

‘I thought you would be on my side,’ Catalina said accusingly.

‘I might be if you were a little more mature, and if I thought your love for Jose was deep and true, instead of being just a reaction to your engagement to Sebastian. Now you’re free to make a choice, don’t rush to choose the first man you see.’

She told Sebastian frankly that she was going to see Jose.

‘Acting as go-between?’ he asked wryly.

‘Catalina is no nineteenth-century miss, to be locked in her room until she obeys. If I keep the lines of communication open, you’re less likely to have a full-scale rebellion on your hands. I’m not going to help them elope-just trying to keep the situation under control. But I won’t do it in secret.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’

Her visit to Jose left her more uncertain than ever. There was no doubt of his true feelings, but he struck her as an infatuated boy rather than a serious man. Maggie explained about Sebastian’s friendship with Felipe Mayorez, delivered loving messages from Catalina, advised Jose to be very patient, and promised to work on Sebastian if possible.

Returning home, she went to see him to put in a good word for Jose, and found him frowning over a letter, willing to give her only half of his attention.

‘What’s the matter? Who is that from?’

‘From Felipe Mayorez,’ he said with a sigh. ‘He wants me to take you to visit him.’ He saw her horrified look and added, ‘Naturally he was invited to the wedding, as a matter of courtesy, but he couldn’t attend.’

‘What state is he in, these days?’ Maggie asked awkwardly.

‘Almost like a vegetable. He lives in a wheelchair. He has an attendant, Carlos, who feeds him and cares for his every need. Sometimes he can mumble a few words; some days he can speak clearly for a short time.’

‘Oh, God!’ she whispered. She began to walk around the room, seeking some release from tension. ‘I can’t see him. It’s too risky. There were photographs in the press at the time-’

‘Of you?’

‘No-I don’t think so-but suppose there was a picture I didn’t know about-and he saw it-and recognises me? Think how it would upset him.’

‘He was in a coma for months. He never saw anything in the papers. Besides, I read everything the press ever printed, and I never saw your picture. Otherwise I’d have known you from the start.’ He looked at her. ‘It’s all right. I have to go but I’ll make some excuse for you.’

‘What excuse can you make for such a grave discourtesy?’

‘I’ll think of something. I won’t ask you to do this.’

‘You must,’ she said calmly. ‘It’s expected.’ She saw him looking at her and added, ‘You’re a public man. You can’t afford not to do what is expected.’

In a land where ceremony still counted, Sebastian had been dreading having to explain his wife’s absence on a visit of form. He was grateful to Maggie for making it easy, yet something in her ready compliance troubled him. After her first protest, she had seemed to shrug mentally and decide that it didn’t matter, because nothing really mattered to her. The old Maggie, who fought him at every turn, seemed to have vanished, and he would have given anything to have her back.

The thought struck him again when he saw her ready for the visit. She was attired in a conventional dress of sober hue, the very picture of a respectable Spanish matron. But the sight brought him no pleasure. She had said appearances must be preserved, and he knew that sometimes people clung to appearances to cover an emptiness within.

He wasn’t usually sensitive to people’s moods, but he could sense Maggie’s despair and confusion. She was lost in a desert, functioning automatically as she waited for something to happen that would show her the way out. And much as he longed to, he knew he couldn’t help her. It was he who had raised her demons to howl at her, but he had no power to calm them again, and he wanted to bang his head against the wall. He would have done so if that would have helped her.

The Casa Mayorez was in the heart of Granada, near the foot of the great hill on which stood the Alhambra Palace. In his own way, Felipe Mayorez was a prince, and he had lived as one until the day four years ago when he had been robbed and attacked. Now he existed unheeding, amidst his magnificent possessions.

Carlos, his carer, came to meet them. He was an amiable young man, devoted to his employer-able to read his every mood, even when the words were blurred. But today the news was good.

‘He is much brighter than usual,’ he told them. ‘And he can speak fairly clearly. It will make him so happy that you have come.’