When the Splendor Falls (63 page)

But was Diosa the love of Neil’s life? Was Diosa the woman who possessed Neil’s heart? Was that why he hadn’t wanted to marry her in Virginia? Had he hoped to return to Royal Rivers and ask his widowed mistress to become his wife? Had Adam, out of a tragically misguided belief that his sacrifice would save them, give them a future, actually ruined their chances for happiness?

Suspicious as she had come to be of Diosa’s motives, she’d had to believe her when the Spanish woman had confided to her that Neil had never been happily married to Serena. Leigh remembered only too clearly Adam’s words spoken the day she had married Neil, and how, later, they had gladdened her heart when she had lain with him, but now they only caused her pain, for they confirmed Diosa’s claim and the hurtful words she’d spoken to her in the courtyard.

“You know the truth, don’t you?” Diosa challenged her, her dark eyes searching for any sign of vulnerability. “Neil was unhappily married to a woman who was in love with another man, a man Serena had secretly wed against her father’s wishes, and whom she still believed herself married to despite an annulment. And poor, foolish Serena was a true daughter of the Church, and even when forced to wed Neil, she held true to the sanctity of those first vows. And Neil? Such a pity. He found himself married, but with no wife to warm his bed,” Diosa told her with calculated bluntness, her black eyes glowing warmly as she spoke Neil’s name possessively, her lips softening into a sweet curve, her slender hands with their long, thin fingers suddenly stilled from their usual restlessness as she caressed the golden bracelet enclosing her wrist, and perhaps a gift from a lover. “Neil is a very virile man, not one to become celibate just because his wife chooses to live the life of one martyred.
El Dorado.
The golden man. He burns like molten gold touching the flame,
sí
, or perhaps you are like Serena and have not shared his bed? It would not surprise me, for you do not have the fire that Neil desires. You mask your eyes, your thoughts. There is too much innocence in your eyes. Although wed to him, you are cold, as if untouched, just like Serena. What was he to do, married to a woman who could give him no love?” Diosa asked almost conversationally.

Then Diosa smiled that slow, secretive smile of hers, her glance self-pitying as she spoke of her own arranged marriage to a very distinguished and fine man, but a man nearly thirty years older than she, and a man who was an invalid. Neil had been alone, she had been alone, and they had sought solace with one another, their passion becoming an all-consuming love. And they had been content to meet secretly, knowing that it was enough to be together, if only for a short time.

“Then, Serena died. It was such a tragedy. I truly was shocked, for I wished her no ill. She had always known that I was Neil’s mistress, and at first, she was quite content with the arrangement. Neil stayed away from her bed, and I believe they actually came to an understanding about their life together, and more and more often they spoke cordially to one another. And I had my own home and a husband who, although ill, made certain that I wanted for nothing. He was very wealthy, and well thought of in Santa Fe and Mexico. My own family comes of the true blood of Spain. I am a daughter of the
conquistadores
. I was most contented. What more could I wish for?”

Leigh had bitten her tongue, sensing that Diosa Marina would never be satisfied with what she had—she would always want more.

“Unfortunately, when Serena began to know Neil better, she made the tragic mistake of falling in love with him. Poor
Tío
Alfonso, seeing the love in his daughter’s eyes when she looked upon Neil, thought the marriage was happy and that one day he would have many grandchildren. But Serena made another mistake. She had asked her father what had happened to her former
esposo
, and
Tío
Alfonso lied to her, telling her the man had died, because he thought this would finally convince Serena to accept Neil as her husband. When Neil tells me this, and that is why Serena wishes for a true marriage between them, I know it is not true!
Tío
Alfonso sent the man money to keep him away from Serena. My brother, Luis, used to handle this for
Tío
Alfonso so Serena would never discover. So, because of this, Serena now felt free to pursue Neil. They had such a horrible disagreement, because Neil spurned her advances. Neil was in love with me, and he wanted nothing to do with her. Well, they say she rode off in a wild rage, and that was when she became lost and died so tragically.
Tío
Alfonso has never forgiven Neil. I, of course, was married, and I was no threat to Serena when she decided she wanted her husband. It was Neil’s decision, not mine.
Tío
Alfonso never blamed me. I am not even certain he knew that Neil and I had been lovers. We were very discreet.”

Diosa sighed, as if in great pain. “I fear, in a way, I am to blame for what happened that day. And I must share in the guilt. I told Neil that I would never see him again. Serena came to me and told me that
she
was Neil’s wife, and intended to perform all of her wifely duties. She begged me to leave Neil alone. It broke my heart, but I told her I would abide by her wishes. Ah, but Neil,
sí
, was not so understanding. And we were so in love. You must understand this. Always the same argument between us. Neil wanted us to be together all of the time, not just during stolen moments. He knew that soon my husband would die, and then…if something happened to Serena…well, Neil was always so impatient.

“Sometimes, and I tell you this, but only to warn you, my dear, so you do not make the same mistake that Serena did, I think perhaps Neil knows far more than he has said about what happened to Serena. Perhaps he was there? Who can say? He could have followed Serena into the canyon. Perhaps you should ask him where he was that day. Others have. But he will not say. It would have been an opportunity to rid himself of an unwanted wife. Sometimes I believe he might have murdered Serena, knowing it was the only way we could be together. There are some who thought as much, even though most have accepted Serena’s death as an accident, holding no one at fault. But
Tío
Alfonso never has. He holds Neil responsible for Serena’s death. He stopped her the day she left the
rancho
. She was in tears. Very upset. She would not stop to speak with him, but she said that everything was ruined, that she had been betrayed. What was she to do? She despaired so. And Alfonso knew that Neil was the cause of Serena’s unhappiness. Even if Neil did not kill her, then he drove her to her madness.”

Leigh knew that at least some of Diosa’s story was true. She had heard about Alfonso Jacobs, Serena’s father, leading a group of vigilantes against Neil, and it had only been because Nathaniel Braedon had stopped them at gunpoint that Neil had not been hanged. No charges had ever been brought against him in the death of his wife.

“Of course, nothing was ever proved, but to ease the tension, Neil left the territory to visit these relatives of his in this place called Virginia. While he was away my husband died from one of the many illnesses he suffered. When Neil returned, I was in mourning, and although he begged me to wed him, despite what people might say, I could not. And then, these foolish gringos have to start a war, and Neil and I are separated yet again. We would have wed then had he not left to fight in this war that has nothing to do with him. I still love Neil, even more so knowing what he might do for me…and,” she said quietly, pausing for a long moment before adding in almost a whisper, “what he might already
have
done so we could be together. He still loves me, this I know. Always remember that. Serena could not come between us, could not have Neil’s love, and neither shall you.”

Leigh shivered, even though she sat in the warmth of the early morning sun that had risen slightly above the mountains now. Diosa’s black eyes had been so full of hatred when she had stared at her, and Leigh knew what a shock discovering Neil had married another had been to her. But Diosa was no fool, and if she truly had been as close to Neil as she claimed, then she must indeed wonder about his sudden marriage—doubt it, even.

As far as Neil Braedon’s family was concerned, however, she and Neil had fallen in love and he had quite naturally wanted to send his wife and her family, who were also his cousins’ family, far from the ravages of the war.

And Leigh had made everyone believe that lie. She had her Travers pride, she’d told Althea and Guy, knowing they would keep the secret of that night to themselves. But would Neil? Leigh drew a shaky breath, wondering what the truth really was. Althea and Stuart James had been right. Infatuation. That was all it had been that summer so many years ago. Neil, believing his mistress still wed to her husband, had wanted a brief affair. He hadn’t really wanted anything permanent. He knew that one day Diosa’s aged husband would die, leaving them free to wed. And later, when they met again, he had no choice but to wed her if he wanted to save his men, and help Adam save his family.

What did she really know about Neil? He was a ruthless man, but could he actually have wanted his first wife out of the way so desperately that he could have left her to die alone, lost in a forgotten canyon somewhere? Or was he so cruel a man he could have purposely driven her into madness? No. No, she would never believe that, despite what Diosa would have her believe.

Leigh glanced around the bedchamber she called her own—but it was also her husband’s—or it would be when he returned to Royal Rivers,
if
he returned from the war. When she had first seen the room, it had been simply furnished, almost stark, which seemed a reflection of Neil. Leigh smiled slightly, for it seemed more her room now than his. Her gaze lingered on the daybed that served as a napping couch with its striped woolen coverlet, coarsely twilled and handwoven on the
rancho
, but it was cheerful and she’d folded across the foot of the narrow bed one of Travers Hill’s quilts, its flower garden pattern bringing back so many memories of days gone by. The slant-top desk she’d placed near the window to catch the light was a constant reminder of her mother. She’d sat at her slant-top desk day after day, Jolie by her side, and together they’d run Travers Hill as ironfisted as any general commanding his troops in the field. A dressing chest, a manufactured piece of cottage furniture that would never have seen the light of day at Travers Hill, stood proudly now beside the great wardrobe that held her clothing, and what remained of Neil’s, which she had pushed aside to make room for her own. Not finding the side chair with its rawhide seat very comfortable, she had also unearthed from the dusty storeroom a rocking chair, in which she rocked Lucinda to sleep every night. Her cradle had been placed close to the high-post bed, and often during the night Leigh reached out to rock the cradle and lull Blythe’s and Adam’s daughter back into peaceful slumber.

Sadly, Leigh gazed at the sleeping child.

What had seemed such madness, a hushed wedding ceremony at midnight with the Reverend Culpepper, kidnapped from his bed, performing the service with a fine show of ill humor, now made sense. Adam had understood only too well the need for such outlandish tactics, and yet, knowing Adam, Leigh knew he had thoroughly enjoyed himself that evening—especially since he had never been overly fond of the Reverend Culpepper.

Adam.
Dear, sweet, noble Adam. Adam was gone. A few months ago they’d received a letter from the Draytons. After Adam had gotten them safely out of Virginia, he had gone back. He had been staying with the Draytons when he died. As he had wished, they had seen that he’d been buried next to Blythe at Travers Hill. Leigh closed her eyes for a moment, still finding it hard to believe, wishing she could banish all that had happened during the last five years—the heartbreaking years since that lazy summer so long ago.

But Adam had accepted the truth, the harsh reality of what the future held. He had known he was dying. And now she understood why he had been so determined to see Neil and her married, why he had wanted a family for Lucinda. Why he had wanted them out of Virginia, safe at Royal Rivers, with his relatives. He had known all along he would never see his daughter again, that he would not be here for her, or for Althea and her family. And he had not been blinded by tarnished glory and misplaced honor, like so many others who refused to believe; he had known they were losing the war and had dreaded the day when the South must accept its defeat, and its surrender—and its loss of pride.

They would have to accept that there would never be another summer, not like the last one—the war had changed all of that forever.

Leigh could still remember, as if yesterday, her last glance of Travers Hill. It had looked so forlorn with its windows shuttered against the storm and trespass, the white split-railed fences fallen into disrepair, the paint faded and peeled, the pastures empty, the fields lying fallow, the woods barren and sere, the family cemetery so full of freshly turned earth and unweathered headstones. She had almost envied Guy his sightlessness as he’d sat stiffly upright in the wagon, his shoulders squared proudly as he’d stared down the road as if he still had his sight, and perhaps he had. But it had been the sight of memory, and as they left Travers Hill, he saw it the way it once had been—the mares grazing peacefully in the green fields of sweet bluegrass; the roses in full bloom, their heavy perfume scenting a warm afternoon; voices raised in laughter carried on the gentle breeze drifting up from the slow-rolling river; the family gathered together on the veranda, their mother with her ever-present needlework, peering up every now and then to make a practical comment concerning something their father had said, and their father with his tall mint julep, pausing just long enough to take a hefty swig to ease his thirst, then continuing to talk up a storm as if never interrupted.

Like refugees of the road, they had packed all of their worldly goods and most cherished possessions into the wagon borrowed from the Draytons. Adam had somehow managed to get his hands on several canvas sheets, and when sewn tightly together and stretched across the high sides of the wagon they had created a shelter to protect them from the inclement weather. They had huddled within the small confines, their trunks stacked snugly around them, the piles of blankets and quilts keeping them warm, while the team of grizzled field horses had pulled them steadily along the deep-rutted, muddy road toward Richmond. With Guy and Stephen taking turns sitting beside her on the wagon seat, Leigh had held the reins firmly in her gloved hands, the rifle propped against her knee, and close enough should they have been accosted by rebel deserters or Yankees. Adam had ridden alongside, his pistol always handy, the cow, the pony, and the mare tied to the wagon and trailing along behind. Guy’s two hounds had raced ahead every so often, before jumping back inside the wagon with muddy paws and trying to sneak beneath the warmth of the quilts, their wet tails shaken in excited greeting giving them away as a roar of protest sounded from within the shelter.