Masquerade (13 page)

His lips were warm and soft with the smoothness of velvet; their heat ran through her like a current of electricity, causing every nerve in her body to shudder imperceptibly. Luz met his brooding gaze and pulled her hand away, painfully aware of his proximity and the dynamic sexuality that he exuded. Stepping back, she rapidly shoved the folder into her briefcase and was about to take her leave when there was a knock at the door.

A couple walked in.

‘Ah, Lorenzo and Adalia, you’ve arrived just in time to meet Doña Luz de Rueda, who will be writing Eduardo’s biography.’ He turned his gaze on Luz, making her cheeks colour. ‘She has outstanding credentials and I’ve already been impressed by her in every way.’

Andrés went over to greet his guests. ‘Don Lorenzo and Doña Adalia Herrera are my partners in our new venture, Los Laboratorios Calderra, SA,’ he told Luz. ‘Don Lorenzo is also an accomplished
torero
– he has perpetuated the Herrera myth.’

As Andrés spoke, Don Lorenzo nodded towards Luz, his eyes raking over her as his friend continued: ‘His father was one of the great toreadors of our time. Lorenzo takes part in some of the most important
corridas
in Spain.’

As she smiled a greeting, Luz surreptitiously studied the handsome pair. They could almost have been Scandinavian. Tall, slim and fair, with large pale-blue eyes and almost regal features, their mien was elegant and striking. Luz recognized the sister as the beautiful woman she had seen that night at the opera, sitting in the box opposite.

‘Andrés,
cariño
, you really are incorrigible!’ Adalia reprimanded silkily, her hand moving to touch his arm lightly. Her pale eyes flicked between Andrés and Luz. ‘You never told me you had already found someone for the post.’ She fixed Luz with a look of curiosity.

‘But how wonderful that you are just what dear Andrés is looking for!’ she gushed, smiling briefly at Luz before immediately turning back to Andrés, regarding him closely. ‘I’ve never heard Andrés speak about anyone with quite such enthusiasm.’

Luz felt herself flush again, then tense inwardly. The whole meeting with Andrés, not to mention the thrilling current that had run through her at his touch, had made her feel thoroughly exposed. Now she wanted nothing more than to exit his office without further scrutiny.

‘I am sure that Señor de Calderón is just being kind.’ The explanation was delivered in an even, calm voice; no one could have guessed the turmoil that bubbled away inside Luz, though Andrés cast her a wry glance.

Without waiting for Andrés to say anything, she picked up her briefcase and held out her hand to him. She made the handshake as brief as possible, trying to ignore the feeling of his strong fingers on her skin. ‘I’m afraid I’m already late for another appointment,’ she said, evading his eyes, though she could sense them on her. ‘Thank you, Don Andrés, for your confidence. I will make sure my work lives up to your expectations.’

She nodded to his visitors and walked swiftly to the door, opening it before either man could do so for her. Without a backward glance she left the room, head high, managing to conceal, she hoped, her confused and fractious feelings.

When Luz got home she was surprised to find that her parents had arrived for the weekend. Her father was on the sofa in the living room reading the paper, her mother curled up in a chair with a book.

‘Darling,’ exclaimed Alexandra as she got up to hug her daughter. ‘I hope you don’t mind us descending on you like this.’

Salvador rested his paper on his lap. ‘El Pavón is unbearable at the moment with all the preparations for the ball so we thought we’d
run away for a couple of days and take a break from it all.’ He winked at Luz and patted the cushion beside him.

Alexandra sighed. ‘Poor Agustina does her best, but she’s not so young any more. The trouble is, she won’t give up the reins to anyone else and we have to tiptoe around her so as not to upset her. But tell us, didn’t you have an appointment today with your new boss? How …’

‘Don’t you start all that,
Mamá
, I’ve had a morning of it already!’ Luz interrupted, claws out. ‘I am not working
for
Andrés de Calderón, I have been assigned to write this biography about his uncle. That doesn’t make de Salazar’s nephew my boss.’ She ran her fingers through her long black hair in an irritated gesture.

‘Don’t get so angry, Luz, it’s only a slip of the tongue,’ Alexandra said, giving her daughter a kiss and smoothing her hand across the back of Luz’s head.

‘Iay, iay,
who’s had a bad day?’ Her father looked at her teasingly. ‘Come and sit down beside me,
querida
, and tell
Papá
all about it,’ he said affectionately.

‘It’s been a challenging, if exhausting, morning. That man is the most arrogant, manipulative, high-handed scoundrel I have ever met.’ Luz flopped down on the sofa next to her father.

‘And charming with it, I suppose,’ Alexandra interjected.

‘And you’ve fallen under his spell. Yes? No?’ Salvador added playfully.

‘Will you stop second-guessing me, both of you, this isn’t helpful!’ Luz cried out, her eyes flashing. ‘I would have happily told him to go to the Devil if it hadn’t been for the fact that I’m passionate about Eduardo de Salazar’s work and I’d give my right arm to write his biography. Plus, I’ve done so much research already.’

Never before had she felt this out of control and it made her so agitated.

‘Most importantly, did you sign the contract?’ her mother asked.

‘Yes.’

‘And in your favour?’

‘Yes. I’ve got the copyright, there’s no time limit on the work and I’m being handsomely paid,’ she conceded.

‘So what’s the problem,
querida
?’ Her father flung up his hands. ‘What more do you want? Ah, you women! You are never so happy as when there’s a drama.’

What she wasn’t telling them was that Andrés de Calderón had humiliated her and made her feel vulnerable as never before. It felt like this was all part of some master plan to undermine her. In the end she’d got what she wanted, not because she’d won it, but because he had wanted to give it to her, and Andrés had made quite sure she understood that. He had proved great gamesmanship and had scored a point in what seemed like a battle for authority …
for this round
, she thought disdainfully. Given Leandro’s indifference at the horse fair, it was the second indignity her pride had suffered in the last twenty-four hours and she was not about to invite the experience again.

They moved into the dining room, where Carmela had laid out a light lunch. But in her father’s playful company, Luz could never stay angry for long and when she next spoke she was more relaxed. ‘Andrés certainly seems to have glamorous friends, although I wasn’t sure I liked the look of them,’ she remarked.

‘You met his friends? How so? I wonder if we know them. What are their names,
querida
?’ Salvador asked lightly. It wasn’t in Luz’s nature to be derogatory about people, though today she seemed to be making a feast of it.

‘They’re a brother and sister, Lorenzo and Adalia Herrera. Clearly from an important family, but I don’t recall you ever mentioning them. You may know their parents. They’re not on the ball’s invitation list, though.’

Salvador exchanged a look of understanding with Alexandra, who was about to say something, but he spoke first. ‘Yes, the Herreras are a well-known family that extend all over Spain. I think we may have met their parents at some point,’ he said quickly. ‘What did you think of them?’

Luz couldn’t bring herself to admit that she’d sensed Adalia’s condescension and hadn’t liked the way her brother had looked her over and shrugged. ‘Oh, I didn’t speak to them really … they were coming in as I was going out. I found them somewhat superior but perhaps I was just feeling out of sorts.’

She cringed internally as she recalled how Adalia had greeted her ‘partner’. What was she to Andrés? From the way she had spoken to him, almost as if her words were an intimate caress, they were obviously very close, more than just business partners. And, of course, she had been his guest at the opera. Anyhow, what did she care? In the two meetings she’d had with Andrés, it was already clear he was a charmer who had a golden touch when it came to women. Hundreds of them must be throwing themselves at him. Well, so long as he kept his tentacles away from her, it was none of her business what he got up to.

Salvador scoffed. ‘Superior? You are Count Salvador de Rueda’s daughter, you have no reason to inferior to anyone! Anyway, since when do such people worry you? You’re becoming too sensitive,
niña
.’ He changed the subject and they proceeded to discuss the main topic of conversation of the moment: the masked ball at El Pavón.

They had just risen from the table and were enjoying coffee on the veranda when Carmela came bursting on to the terrace, wheezing and chuckling, carrying an enormous bunch of red roses. Eyes flashing with excitement, she laid the glorious bouquet on the table in front of Luz to everybody’s surprise, not least Luz’s.

‘Your
novio
, Doña Luz.’ She gave a huge wink. ‘Your
novio
has finally taken pity on you and appeared. He has sent you these beautiful flowers as a token of his love,’ she announced.

Salvador and Alexandra turned to their daughter with questioning expressions.

‘Don’t look at me,’ Luz cried out laughingly. ‘I promise I haven’t the faintest idea what Carmela’s talking about.’

‘There’s a card, Doña Luz,’ said Carmela, barely able to restrain her impatience. She detached the envelope from the magnificent
bouquet and handed it to the young woman, her features quivering with anticipation, dark eyes intent on Luz’s face.

Salvador regarded the housekeeper with contained amusement.
‘Gracias, Carmela, usted puede ir ahora
, thank you, Carmela, you can go now.’ He and his daughter exchanged knowing glances. They both understood that by the evening the whole of Cádiz would know that she had received red roses, and who knows what else Carmela’s vivid imagination might conjure up as gossip?

Determined not to be banished just yet, Carmela had more to say. ‘A driver delivered them,’ she said, her eyes glittering. ‘Is there not to be an answer then? He’s waiting.’

‘Don’t worry about an answer,’ Salvador told her dismissively. ‘Thank the driver and tell him she’ll reply in due course.’

Carmela’s face fell. ‘As you wish, Don Salvador.’

Obviously fathers were unaware of their daughter’s aches of the heart. Disappointment was written all over her as she walked slowly round the side of the hacienda.

Luz had already recognized the coat of arms on the envelope. She opened it. The card read: ‘Have dinner with me and let me make amends. I remain your faithful servant, Andrés.’ The writing was generous and energetic. Luz’s heart beat a little faster and a pale rose coloured her cheeks.
Damn him for being so charming!
She handed the note to her mother and tried to look cool.

‘There’s nothing like a romantic note to entangle a sensitive woman’s heart,’ Alexandra declared as she gazed lovingly at her husband, clearly remembering the days of their courtship.

Salvador laughed. ‘We Spaniards are masters in the language of love, is that not so,
mi amor
?’ He picked up Alexandra’s hand and kissed it before turning to his daughter. ‘So he’s not arrogant and insufferable now!’ Irony twisted his lips and Luz blushed and looked away.

Yes, but he
is
manipulative
, she thought.

Handsome, successful and manipulative – that was her verdict. No doubt leagues of pining women queued outside the door to his
heart. Yes, she would have dinner with him, but not immediately. Andrés de Calderón was used to his wishes being granted at the snap of his fingers. She was not one of his enslaved admirers. She would not rush to his command – let him stew for a while.

T
he architecture of El Pavón, the de Fallas’ ancestral home, was defined by function and tradition. It had a local style with a touch of neoclassical inspiration that gave the hacienda a look of prosperity, permanence and grandeur. The sun-drenched old house stood on copper-tinted soil, surrounded by hibiscus, begonias and oleanders, and was approached by an avenue of stooping willows. Solid and sedate it lay in its eclectic landscape of manicured lawns, exuberant foliage, fruit orchards and noble trees. The whitewashed walls wore shawls of bougainvillea, wisteria and mimosa, their vivid colours softening its severe lines during most months of the year. On arrival, the first impression was of green and red and white, punctuated here and there with yellow. Through the years nature and man had joined forces to create a strangely seductive combination of voluptuous beauty and austerity. It had atmosphere and, generation after generation, the edifice continued to live up to its name: El Pavón, the peacock.

After his great-aunt Doña María Dolores had passed away, Salvador and Alexandra had taken over the hacienda. The couple decided to leave the core of the house intact. It was a palace in miniature, with marble floors and rich but worn silk hangings, dark brown furniture and heavy Persian rugs. Though Alexandra loved the aura of past history that permeated El Pavón, its brooding spirit depressed her. She preferred contemporary furniture and light airy spaces. So Salvador built a new wing and gave his wife carte blanche to decorate it in her own style, so she could give it her personal touch and furnish it to her own taste.

Luz had always preferred to stay in this new part of the house as well, finding the rest of the hacienda strangely claustrophobic, despite its great size. The sprawling, colourful grounds of El Pavón were her favourite part and her parents had succeeded in enhancing their secret allure and making them their own. At the request of Alexandra, Salvador even had a small lake dug out beyond the back gardens in a beautiful spot surrounded by lilac trees. To escape the hacienda, Luz often walked down to the lake on warm afternoons and lazed on the bench there with a book.

Leaning against her bedroom balcony, Luz looked out on to the garden, which seemed to dream in the declining day. She had arrived from Cádiz with her parents the day before to help them oversee the finishing touches to the masked ball. There were only a few hours before the guests arrived, but for now she wanted to savour this magical hour when El Pavón looked its best. Her bedroom was at the back of the house, the view from there dominated by the more private and shaded areas of the hacienda: Alexandra and Salvador’s creation. Here, cool rose-scented walks mingled with wrought-iron gateways framed by honeysuckle and old fountains with gently murmuring water splashing or f lowing lazily into stone-edged ponds. In the distance, over the high walls of the property, the lights of Jerez were beginning to twinkle. Luz’s eyes moved from one beautiful aspect to another. Roses, begonias and evergreen shrubs were everywhere. A soft, warm evening breeze touched her, stirring her long, silky black hair. After the heat of the day, the cool air was refreshing. The heady aroma of f lowers released by dusk aroused a sort of excitement within her.

Year after year since her eighteenth birthday, she had attended the El Pavón traditional masked ball but never before had she experienced such a feeling of anticipation. Tonight would be the stuff of fairy tales as her ancestral home was transformed into an enchanted world of swirling colours, twinkling lights and sweeping music, where anything could happen.

Luz had welcomed the comforting presence of her parents at L’Estrella over the past week and her mind was easier than it had been for a while. Yet as the hour of the ball approached and the power of its spell started to gather, she was aware of a sensation of longing still budding within her.

She thought of Leandro and Andrés, two men who only a few weeks earlier had been strangers to her and, since then, had filled her mind. Would Andrés show up tonight and would she recognize him? she wondered. For some reason he had been particularly enthused by the idea of a masked ball, though his infuriating habit of playing games perhaps made that hardly surprising, she concluded. Yes, Andrés de Calderón would play his part in a masquerade with relish. In her mind’s eye, she could still see the soft mockery that had flashed in those dark velvety irises and deep down she knew that if he did honour them with his presence, he would do his utmost to mystify her at every turn.

Though she had sent him a brief note to thank him for the roses, she had refused his invitation to dinner. She wondered how he would have reacted to that. Luz could usually read people, but she had no clue as to this man’s thoughts. He was dangerously attractive, she realized that, but did she
like
him? Something in her rebelled against his arrogant treatment of her. One moment she was being rigorously interviewed, the next, almost wooed; by turns she had been charmed, enraged and perplexed. Flirtation was a duel of wits for Andrés, a sport for his amusement. The man was egotistical, complicated and maddening. Still, she could not deny feeling a certain piquancy in his presence, which, though disquieting at times, was also oddly thrilling.

She frowned at the thought. Her reaction to him had been an aberration, she decided, and one that she had no intention of repeating. In fact after tonight, she concluded, it would be extreme folly to see Andrés de Calderón more than was absolutely necessary in the course of researching Eduardo’s biography.

Luz watched as an eagle circled high in the sky before diving for some invisible prey in the dusky air. Her thoughts turned to Leandro,
the gypsy with the deep, soft voice and the mesmerizing eyes. Emotion welled up in her. A stab of pain shot through her heart as she thought back to the horse fair and to the redheaded
gitana
with her arm around him, obviously claiming him as her man. He had not disengaged from her and Luz had taken the hint. But what was she to think? That afternoon on the beach she was sure she hadn’t misread the turbulent undercurrents of passion in his fiery gaze and then, when they had talked at the fair, the desire in his eyes as he flirted with her was obvious. The memory of it stirred her with a sudden acuteness that made something flutter and blaze bright near her heart.

A knot formed in her throat. Surely she wasn’t going to let the gypsy’s magnetism weave its spell over her? Wasn’t this just the way of the
gitanos
? She swallowed hard. It was only a sexual attraction, mere hormones at play. Anyway, as she’d already told herself, nothing could ever come of such a relationship. The gypsies’ world was not hers; she must put Leandro and his people out of her mind.

Luz looked up at the darkening, violet sky as an opalescent moon floated into view from behind a cloud. Still, she thought wistfully, had he been free and truly wanted her, she would not have denied herself the chance of love simply because he was a gypsy; she would have fought anyone and anything for her happiness.

There was a knock at the door. Luz sighed quietly and moved away from the balcony. ‘Come in,’ she called, walking back into her bedroom.

The door opened and Agustina, the old housekeeper at El Pavón, came in, carrying a shimmering costume which she ceremoniously laid out on the bed as if it were a sacred robe.
‘Buenas tardes,
Doña Luz, I have brought your outfit for tonight’s ball.’

‘How very kind of you, Agustina, but that’s Valentina’s job. You shouldn’t be climbing all those stairs, you’re disobeying doctor’s orders,’ she remonstrated sweetly as she gave the old servant a hug.

‘
Iay!
Doctors!’ Agustina gave a dismissive wave. ‘And Valentina does what I tell her,’ she added with a twinkle in her eye.

Agustina had been with the family for two generations and, in her elevated role in the house, had come to know and love both Alexandra and Salvador with a fierce loyalty. Though in her early seventies, she still had the same matronly figure of her middle age years and a round, serene face with barely a wrinkle. Her eyes were still vivacious and held a sharpness belying her age. Luz had always admired her hair, which in her youth, she guessed, must have been raven black and was now a lustrous white, held in the nape of her neck by a net and a wide tortoiseshell comb.

Agustina smiled kindly and took Luz’s arm, her dark pupils gazing up earnestly at the young woman. ‘This costume is very special, as your mother must have told you. It was the dress of a genuine Moorish sultana. Doña Alexandra wore it the night she met your father. I helped her dress for the ball on that evening and I would like to do the same today for you. This is a family heirloom, which is very dear to your parents. Now you’re back in Spain for good and making your home here, it’s time you had it.’

Though Luz was not accustomed to being pampered in such a way – in fact, she actively disliked anyone hovering around her while she was dressing – she didn’t have the heart to turn the
duenna
away.

‘That’s a lovely idea,’ she said, trying to sound enthusiastic as she moved to the bathroom. ‘Let me have a shower, and I’ll be right with you.’

‘
Si, si, tómese su tiempo,
take your time, I will sit for a minute. It’s true, my old legs aren’t as strong as they were,’ replied Agustina, lowering herself slowly into a chair.

Ten minutes later Luz reappeared clad in a white bath towel. Agustina smiled as the young woman came into the room.

‘You have the best features from each of your parents,’ she declared, surveying her with affection.

She invited Luz to sit at the dressing table in front of the mirror. ‘I will first dry your hair and then give it Agustina’s special treatment,’ she declared as she removed the towelling turban wrapped around the young woman’s head.

‘Yours is a different beauty to your mother’s … it is more exotic and mysterious,’ she said, ‘so for tonight I may let your hair fall loosely down your back. It is lush and heavy like your great-grandmother’s and should be seen in all its glory. Will you trust me to bring out the best so that when I have finished every woman at the ball will be envious?’ She patted Luz’s shoulder and her smile uncovered two rows of perfect teeth.

Luz nodded enthusiastically as the old housekeeper’s still dextrous fingers threaded expertly through strands of silken black hair. Suddenly she felt light-hearted, getting into the spirit of the whole event.

‘Do as you please, Agustina,’ she replied, ‘I’m entirely in your hands.’

At this she relaxed and let her imagination run free. She was a princess in this beautiful castle and perhaps tonight fate would steer her away from its recent thorny path and she would meet her Prince Charming. Wasn’t that what had happened to her mother almost thirty years ago?

Without delay, the
duenna
began massaging Luz’s scalp, applying strange creams and oils, drying, brushing, combing. Before becoming the housekeeper at El Pavón, Agustina had been personal maid to Doña María Dolores, Alexandra’s grandmother. In her youth the
Duquesa
had possessed the lushest and most beautiful head of hair and Agustina was accustomed to dressing and handling long hair. She worked swiftly and expertly.

Suddenly, as the buzzing of the hairdryer ceased, Luz thought she could hear the thud of distant drumbeats. At first she assumed the musicians had arrived early and were practising for the ball but, as it went on and she listened carefully, she realized these were not the melodious tones of a fully fledged orchestra, but a more monotonous, repetitive thumping that seemed to flow continuously like an endless river of sound.

‘What’s that sound?’ she asked. ‘It’s an odd sort of dull, throbbing beat. Can you hear it?’

Luz felt Agustina’s hands jerk slightly. Without lifting her head or pausing, the housekeeper shrugged. ‘Oh, don’t take any notice,’ she said a little too dismissively.

That sort of evasiveness irritated Luz and was enough to alert her curiosity. ‘Come on, Agustina.’ she coaxed. ‘I’ve not heard drums like that at El Pavón before. It sounds more like some African or South American jungle ritual …’

‘I don’t know anything about jungle rituals. The only thing clear to me at this moment is that you should not be moving your head,’ came the stern answer.

Suddenly Luz burst out laughing, the crystal-clear notes filling the room. ‘Of course! Why hadn’t I thought of it before? Gypsies! The gypsies are having their own party at the bottom of the garden. Isn’t that so, Agustina? And you didn’t want me to get on to the subject. What’s wrong with you all? As soon as the word “gypsy” is in the air, everybody gets into a tizzy.’

‘And quite rightly so,’ Agustina said grimly, as though to herself.

Luz raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Why? I’ve met a couple of gypsies who have been really kind to me.’

‘Nothing good can come from these people if you aren’t one of them.’

‘Agustina, why be so pessimistic?’ Luz sighed. ‘It’s probably that sort of prejudice that makes them unfriendly.’

‘As the saying goes: “The believer is happy, the doubter is wise.” To be a pessimist is to be clear headed, my child, and often that comes with experience.’

‘Please, what does that mean, exactly? Have the gypsies ever harmed you or any of your loved ones?’ There was a note of impatience in Luz’s tone.

Agustina shook her head regretfully. ‘I prefer not to talk about this. In life, one must know when to let sleeping dogs lie. There is no good in stirring up old grievances and in this case it is most important that you should leave well alone. And you should certainly not consort with them. These are hot-blooded people, they are ruled
by customs and traditions that we will never understand. God knows what they will start if you rub them up the wrong way.’

Luz listened in silence. She had heard those words so many times before she found them tedious. True, it was probably sensible advice; still, for Luz, this made the subject only more interesting.

‘I met an old gypsy the other day who told me that she knew my parents. Her name is Paquita. Do you know her?’ She tried to sound casual. Whether Agustina wanted to or not, she was now talking and Luz spotted her chance to probe further.