They drew up before the door. He lifted her down from the saddle, and, looking round, she saw that the troop had dispersed, only one man remaining to take their horses. Ignominy upon ignominy! She guessed the men to be hildings employed upon the estate, and could imagine what chuckles and sly looks were passing between them at her expense. Anger consumed her; there was no room for fear.
Luis, Don Diego’s valet, had come out, bowing to them. He held the door wide; she hesitated a moment, and then brushed past him into the hall of the lodge.
Diego, following her close, found her tapping her foot by the table. “Dearest cousin you are surprisingly beautiful when you are enraged,” he told her. “There is a chamber prepared for you upstairs. I regret I have no tirewoman to offer you, or any change of raiment. But you will find such things as you need, and you have only to call, and Luis will bring you what you ask for.”
“Your consideration passes belief, cousin,” she said. “I do not purpose to make a long stay, I thank you. I shall be glad to know what you intend by me.”
The valet went discreetly away to the kitchens. Dominica was left facing her cousin, straight and stiff in the middle of the hall.
“I intend marriage, child, as I think you know.”
“Is this the way you woo in Spain, señor?”
He came closer. “It is the only way to use with such a wild maid as you, Dominica.”
“You are doomed to disappointment, señor. It is no way to use with me.”
He smiled. “You are tired from your long ride, and these alarms you have sustained. Come, child, cry a truce, and let me lead you to your chamber! When you have reposed yourself a little we will talk.”
She ignored his outstretched hand, but turned towards the stairs. She had need to collect herself, to marshal her defences. She saw that she stood in great danger; she would need all her wits about her to evade it, and she was indeed shaken. Moreover, while he thought her safe upstairs she might contrive to escape, she thought. Doña Beatrice might stand back and allow her son to do his worst, but Dominica was fairly sure she would not take a more active part in this villainy. If she could win to her side she would be safe enough.
This hazy idea of flight was soon put to rout. Don Diego, ushering her into a chamber upstairs that gave on to the little garden at the back of the lodge, displayed a key. “You will forgive the discourtesy, dear cousin, but I must lock you in. I will come to fetch you to dinner in an hour, if it please you!”
She would not trust herself to speak; her breast heaved. She turned sharply on her heel, and walked into the room.
The door was shut behind her, the key grated in the lock.
She stood still until she heard the stairs creak under Don Diego’s retreating footsteps. Then she went in a little dash to the window, and flung it open, and looked out. It was unbarred, and for a sufficient reason. There was no need of bars, for the wall of the house fell sheer to the ground some twenty feet below. No friendly creeper afforded a foothold, nor even a drain pipe. To jump from the window would mean broken limbs, and maybe worse. She stayed panting by it, her fingers gripping the ledge till the nails showed white. It was of no use though to rage, and grind her teeth. Escape did not lie that way.
She turned away from the window, and came back into the room, and took stock of her surroundings. A great bed stood out from one wall, hung with curtains of red damask; arras of tapestry covered the walls; there was a chest, a chair, an escabeau, a table with carved legs, a mirror hung above a second chest, whereon stood a basin and an ewer of silver.
The mirror showed a tempestuous lady, wrath in her face; her hair dishevelled under the French hood, her habit dusty and disordered. Dominica poured water into the basin, and bathed her face and her hands, slowly, abstractedly. A cake of soap was to hand, delicately scented, a towel. She stood rubbing her fingers dry, and looking at her reflection in the mirror, thinking, thinking.
An hour later, Don Diego scratched on the panel of the door. A cool voice bade him enter; he found his cousin seated by the window, her hands folded in her lap, the picture of maidenly resignation. But he knew her too well to suppose her resigned; it did not need the steely flash in her eyes as she raised them to tell him that his cousin was prepared to give battle.
He bowed to her. “Dearest cousin, supper awaits you. May I lead you down?”
She rose at once, and came to the door; she even allowed him to take her hand. They went in silence down the stairs and across the hall to a smaller parlour, panelled with mulberry wood. Covers were laid upon a draw-table; Luis stood deferentially waiting behind one of the chairs. She was handed to it, and sat down with what composure she could muster. The curtains had been drawn to shut out the fading daylight, and a cluster of candles on the table lit the room. Outside the silence of the country seemed to enfold the house. Dominica felt very alone, and had to fight down a rising wave of panic.
“Rude fare, dear cousin, I fear me, but you will forgive it. Luis is an
