Isabella half-turned to whisper again behind her fan to Roger; but, seeing the expression of astonishment on his face as he stared at Georgina, she exclaimed: “Why do you look so surprised? Is it that you know her?”
“Why, yes,” Roger answered in a low voice. “She is my dearest—my oldest friend.”
“Madonna mia!” Isabella passed the tip of her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. “Rojé! You cannot mean that you, too, have been ensnared by her? Yet from the way you speak …”
“No, no! I mean only that we have known one another since childhood. I—I regard her as a sister.”
Isabella’s dark brows drew together. “A sister! Only as a sister? Do you swear to me she has never been more to you than that?”
“Hush!” whispered Roger. “I beg you to control yourself. We are observed. But I can assure you of one thing. You are entirely mistaken in your estimate of her character. She is the kindest and sweetest creature; she would harm no one willingly.”
“Yet she would have me poisoned, so that she may marry one of the greatest fortunes and titles in Spain.”
Roger turned and looked straight into Isabella’s eyes. His voice was suddenly hard. “Have you one scrap of evidence that Lady Etheredge has knowledge of this fell design of which you accuse your husband?”
“No,” Isabella faltered. “No. Yet ’tis rumoured here that she killed her own husband some two years ago and narrowly escaped hanging for it.”
“ ’Tis true that she killed him; but by accident. I was a party to the matter and know every detail of it. Her innocence was vindicated at the trial.” His voice took on a more gentle note. “I see now how it is that you have been led to think such ill of her; but I swear to you that you do her an injustice. I beg you, too, to believe that my love is entirely yours, and that now I am here I would die rather than let harm befall you.”
Georgina had just caught sight of Roger. Excusing herself from the gentlemen who surrounded her, she waved her fan in delighted recognition, then took her father’s arm, and they came through the crowd towards him. When the two women had exchanged curtsys Roger kissed Georgina’s hand and shook that of Colonel Thursby heartily.
They exclaimed with surprise at seeing him in Spain, and he explained his presence by saying that he had been asked to negotiate some questions regarding shipping with the Spanish Government. He then learnt how they came to be at the Court of Madrid. They had meant to spend two months in Naples, but they had met the Sidonia y Ulloas there and Don Diego had persuaded them to be his guests in Spain for a few weeks before returning to England.
Don Diego had by that time rejoined the group. He clearly found it difficult to conceal his displeasure at finding Georgina talking in English with such animation to Roger, evidently fearing in him a possible rival. His dark eyes never left her face, and Isabella had fallen ominously silent; but Georgina did not appear to notice the electric atmosphere, and with her usual gaiety she rattled on until an usher called for silence.
Mr. Merry appeared at Roger’s side as the Court formed up to do homage to the Sovereigns, and a few minutes later King Carlos and Queen Maria Luisa entered the lofty chamber. In due course the Grand Chamberlain drew Their Majesties’ attention to the two Englishman, and when they had made their bow the King said to Roger, in French:
“You are welcome to my Court, Monsieur Brook. Have you ever been to Spain before?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Roger replied. “I have travelled considerably in numerous other countries, but this is the first time I have had the pleasure of visiting your dominions.”
“In which countries have you travelled, Monsieur?”
“Mostly in France, Sire. I have visited Holland, Denmark, Sweden, Russia and Italy; but during the past year I have spent more time in Paris than elsewhere.”
Queen Maria Luisa was regarding Roger intently with her small black eyes. She was, he thought, of an incredible ugliness. Her mouth was huge and her false teeth rattled in it as she addressed him:
“Were you, Monsieur, a witness to the deplorable events which have shaken the foundations of the French throne?”
He bowed. “I was at Versailles, Your Majesty, both on the night of the taking of the Bastille and of the mob’s attack upon the Palace. Madame Marie Antoinette has for many months been gracious enough to number me among her gentlemen, so I was in consequence privy to all that passed at Court on those terrible occasions.”
The Queen turned to a fine strapping fellow in a splendid uniform who, with other members of the royal suite, was standing just behind her. “We should be interested to hear at first hand an account of these monstrous proceedings by the French people. Be pleased to bring Monsieur Brook to us tomorrow evening.”
Roger bowed again; then, just as the Queen was moving on, her eye fell upon Isabella. “Condesa,” she added kindly. “You were in the service of Madame Marie Antoinette for some years, were you not? No doubt you too would be interested to hear news of your old mistress. You and your husband may wait upon us tomorrow night with Monsieur Brook.”
The reception lasted for about half an hour and during it Roger had no opportunity to speak further with Isabella in private, or with Georgina; but he managed to get a word with Colonel Thursby, just as the King and Queen were withdrawing.
“Sir,” he said, in a low voice. “I find that the business I am come to Spain upon intimately concerns Georgina, and must see her alone at the earliest possible moment. I pray you help me in this matter if you can.”
“There is nothing to prevent you calling upon me at any hour of the day or night,” replied the Colonel with his quiet smile. “We are staying with the Sidonia y Ulloas; but as the Condesa was confined in the country, and arrived in Aranjuez only three days ago, it would not have been fitting for Don Diego to receive Georgina into his house in the absence of his wife; so he accommodated us very pleasantly in a pavilion in his garden. ’Tis on the left-hand side of the entrance drive, so you cannot fail to find it. If your business is urgent you had best come there an hour or so after this party breaks up; but I do not advise your doing so earlier. You may, perhaps, have observed that our host is strongly attracted to Georgina, and it might be unfortunate if he got the impression that you were paying her a midnight visit.”
Roger had hardly thanked him when the fine young man in the splendid uniform emerged from the crowd. As Roger had guessed, he proved to be Manuel Godoy, the Queen’s favourite. Having introduced himself he asked Roger where he was staying, then requested him to wait upon him in his apartments at the Palace at seven o’clock the following evening.
In addition to an elegant figure and handsome face, Godoy had an unusually attractive voice, although he spoke French with a heavy accent. He also had great charm of manner and an enthusiastic spontaneity in his conversation rarely found in Spaniards; so Roger took an immediate liking to him.
A band of violins was now playing indifferent music in one adjoining salon and a refreshment buffet was spread in another; so the guests had broken up into little groups and for about an hour continued to exchange politenesses and gossip. Don Diego stuck to Georgina like a leech, but Isabella was never alone for a moment, so Roger had to content himself with joining in the general conversation of the group from which she could not succeed in freeing herself.
About nine o’clock the guests began to leave, and shortly afterwards Isabella, Georgina, Don Diego and Colonel Thursby all went off together. Roger had asked formal permission to call upon them and received the civil reply that they hoped to see a lot of him while he was in Aranjuez, so he had been able to take the opportunity of finding out the situation of the Sidonia y Ulloa mansion. Then he, too, left with Mr. Merry and they drove back to the Embassy villa.
On their arrival Roger announced that, the night being fine, he intended to go for a walk. Mr. Merry, anxious to oblige in every way, offered to go with him, but he excused himself from accepting the offer on the plea that he had certain problems to think out; then he set off back in the direction of the Palace. His latter statement had at least been true, as he was still trying to adjust his mind to the extraordinary situation with which he had been confronted that evening; but he had some time to kill before he could make his visit to Georgina, so, checking the impulse of his long legs to set off at a stride in pace with his mind, he forced himself to saunter.
There were several things he could not understand. How could his dear, gay Georgina possibly be in love with that dull, conceited stick of a Spaniard? Even if she were, as it was impossible for her to marry him, why, seeing that the wicked darling had indulged herself with a succession of lovers ever since she was sixteen, did she refuse her favours to Don Diego? And why, even were he free to marry her, since she was already rich and titled, should she consider for one moment giving up the carefree life she led in places like London and Vienna to settle in dull, etiquette-ridden Spain?
But of two things Roger was positive: Georgina could not conceivably be concerned in any plot to murder Isabella, and would give him all the help she possibly could to elope with her. He then began to wonder if there was any real foundation for the plot at all. Had Don Diego’s English siren proved to be the hard, fortune-hunting adventuress he had expected, his belief in the plot would not have been shaken, but Georgina being the lady in question made it far less probable; and he now recalled that the only evidence for its existence lay in the word of little Quetzal.
That led to another thought. Would Isabella insist on taking Maria and Quetzal with her? If so it was going to prove next to impossible to bring off a successful elopement. On leaving London Roger’s plans for running away with Isabella had been of the vaguest, but he had had reasonable confidence in his ability to arrange matters on the lines such affairs usually took in England and France. In either, or most other countries, there would have been nothing to prevent their getting away in a coach with well-paid servants and relays of fast horses arranged for in advance. But he had counted without the special difficulties which confronted travellers in Spain.
The coaches were drawn by mules and the state of the roads was so appalling that it was impossible to travel anywhere with a woman and baggage at any speed. Moreover Madrid was in the very centre of the country, four hundred miles from the nearest port. So if they went by coach and Don Diego decided to pursue them they would have little hope of reaching the coast without being overtaken. On his journey to Madrid Roger had had ample opportunity to revise his ideas, and decided that he must persuade Isabella to come with him on horseback; but he had overlooked the fact that a boy of Quetzal’s age would never be able to stay the pace required to keep a lead on such a long journey.
He was still wrestling unsuccessfully with this problem when he decided that the time had come at which he might make his call; and having already located the long tree-lined avenue where he had been told that the Sidonia y Ulloa mansion lay, he turned down it. When he came to two tall pillars with stone eagles mounted on them, which had been described to him, he found that the iron gates which supported were on the latch. There was no lodge; bushes and cactus fringed the drive, and obliquely through them he could see lights, showing that the house lay some distance away. Slipping inside he walked cautiously along the drive until, on the left, about a hundred yards from the entrance, the bushes gave way to a group of palms, in the centre of which stood the pavilion.
It was a small, single-storied Moorish building with a miniature tiled court and fountain to one side of it, and in the faint moonlight it looked just the sort of romantic setting to appeal to the impressionable Georgina. Stepping up to the low door Roger knocked, and it was opened almost instantly by his old friend Tom, Colonel Thursby’s valet, who said he had been warned to expect him. After they had greeted one another warmly Tom showed him into a pleasant room with windows of arabesque lattice-work that looked out on the fountain court. There was no European furniture in it, only chests, stools, vases and brasses of Eastern design; and Georgina, now clad in a becoming négligé, was reclining gracefully against a pile of cushions on a low divan.
“Roger, how truly marvellous this is!” she exclaimed, as he hurried smiling towards her. Then, as he made to kiss her hand she flung a bare arm round his neck and, pulling his head down, kissed him on both cheeks.
Releasing him after a moment, she hurried on: “ ’Tis now over a year since we met, and I declare you are grown more monstrous handsome than ever. For two pins I would throw away my Spanish Count for you, and seduce you anew, even if in the meantime you have gotten yourself a wife. But you must tell me all—everything.”
Sitting down beside her, he shook his head. “Nay. I am not married yet. Whether it will be even possible for me ever to be so to the lady of my choice seems doubtful. But we are fully committed to one another, and ’tis about the matter that I have come here tonight to see you.”
Georgina pulled a rueful face. “Fie, sir! And shame upon you! When Papa told me of your projected visit he winked an eye and said he knew us far too well to think that in any attempt to play gooseberry he could outsit you. Do you tell me now that the poor man has sought his bed thus early for no good reason?”
Knowing she was not speaking seriously, Roger grinned at her. “Could I but die tomorrow I would glory in my last act having been to make love to you; for you have grown to a beauty that positively takes the breath away. But since I cannot, and have now developed a conscience in such matters, I beg you spare me the terrible temptation that your words suggest.”
“So you have developed a conscience?” She gave him a mocking smile. “Poor fellow! But you’ll recover from it, I have no doubt. To be honest, though, I understand that better than I would have done a year ago; for I, too, have one now. Or shall we say that for a time it pleases me to be chaste? In Vienna, in Budapest, on the Rhine! Ah me! Even my zest for that type of entertainment became a trifle jaded; so for this winter at least I decided to become a prude. I am discovering a new pleasure in turning over in my bed in the morning and not having to argue with myself whom I will or will not allow to tumble me in it during the coming night. But perhaps that is a sign that I am growing old.”
Roger threw his head back and laughed aloud again. “Old! Why, you are not yet twenty-four, and with a face and figure unrivalled since Helen of Troy. What you really mean, my sweet, is that you are growing up. But seriously; it must be this new phase upon which you have entered that accounts for your steadfastly refusing your favours to Don Diego.”
She frowned. “ ’Tis true enough. But how comes it, sir, that you should be so well versed in my most intimate affairs?”
“Ah! I have my spies. Yet I am come here to beg you tell me if you have any interest in this Spanish Grandee, other than to amuse yourself by leading him on a string?”
Georgina’s face took on a thoughtful look, then she sighed: “From you, my dearest Roger, I would never seek to conceal the truth. I am mightily smitten with him. He is a very serious person, and though there must be many such, no other of the type has ever held my interest long enough for me to get to know him well. But I will admit that ’tis unlikely I would ever have come to do so had I not first been attracted by his physical attributes. I could gaze upon that profile of his for hours. ‘Tis a more lovely, perfect thing than any cameo ever carved by an ancient master.”
“Do you mean,” Roger asked a shade uneasily, “that if he were free to offer you his hand you would accept it?”
“I might. I have a great respect for him; and that at least would be a pleasant change from the contempt with which I was forced to regard poor Humphrey. The castle to which Papa and I accompanied him for a few days for the birth of the Condesa’s child, and the celebrations in honour of its arrival, is quite impossible. ’Tis cold as an ice-box and draughty as a barn; but ’twould be amusing to make it habitable as a new background for myself. I doubt, though, if we should visit it more than once every few years, as I would never give up Stillwaters; and whoever I married would first have to agree to allowing me to live where I would as the spirit moved me.”
Roger quickly looked away from her, as he said: “Do you sometimes share these daydreams with the Count?”
“Sometimes,” she murmured; then she laughed. “ ’Tis a most efficient panacea to divert him from becoming troublesome whenever he is more pressing than usual that I should let him lie with me.”
“Have you no thought at all for his unfortunate wife?”
Georgina’s big eyes opened to their maximum extent. “His wife! And why, pray, should I have? My faults are many, but at least you should know that I would never be guilty of breaking up a romantic marriage. This was as frigid an example as ever you will meet of an alliance between two great houses. The pulses of neither of them have quickened by a beat since the day they first set eyes on one another.”
“I am aware of that. Yet your encouragement of Don Diego may have terrible results for her.”
“Nonsense, my dear! Do you think that she still has idealistic yearnings for him, and that I have come between her and their realisation? If you do, pray disabuse yourself of the notion. Quiet she may be; and sanctimonious, with her long thin face. But, all the same, the sly little cat has consoled herself with at least one lover.”
Roger swiftly suppressed the impulse categorically to deny this imputation against Isabella; but, controlling his voice as well as he could, he said: “What reason have you for assuming that?”
“My poor Don Diego does not know it,” Georgina burbled, with sudden merriment in her eyes, “but this winter he was still the laughing-stock of Naples. It seems that in the autumn an English visitor there became enamoured of the Condesa’s charms, and at that time Diego had cast his eye upon a notorious gambler’s moll, named Sara Goudar; but she demanded an excessive price. The rich English milor’ paid up for Diego to enjoy the harlot, so that he might have a clear field to enjoy Diego’s wife.”
Roger’s eyes met Georgina’s with no less wicked mirth, as he murmured: “So the pretty Sara told the story to her gossips afterwards, eh! Well, I can show you the reverse of that medal. I was in Naples last November. The story is true enough in essence, though I won Madame Goudar to the project without paying her anything for her trouble; but I was the Englishman concerned.”
All the laughter left Georgina’s face. “Roger!” she exclaimed. “You do not mean … you cannot mean that you are in love with the Condesa! ’Tis impossible to believe that morose, black-browed sack of bones to be the Spanish beauty of whom you wrote to me last summer. I pray you assure me swiftly that it is not of her that you have come to speak to me tonight.”
“It is of her; and I consider your description of her most ungenerous,” Roger said stiffly. “If we are to criticise one another’s taste I will frankly express my amazement that you should have set your heart upon a wooden-headed barber’s block. Aye, and far worse, a potential murderer.”
“Roger! What are you saying? I was indeed at fault in disparaging your lady’s looks; but you must be out of your senses to make such an accusation against an honourable gentleman.”
Fishing the letter from Isabella, that had reached him in London, out of his inner pocket, Roger handed it to Georgina. “I pray you read that. ’Tis the prime reason for my coming to Spain.”
Georgina read the letter through carefully, then she said: “From this I gather that you asked her to run away with you when you were in Naples, and she refused to do so because she was carrying Diego’s child. That does her credit; but ’tis my opinion that she repented of it afterwards and …”
“Go on,” he prompted.
“You will not take offence at what I am about to say?”
“Nay. You know well that no honest opinion of yours could ever offend me seriously.”
“Then ’tis my belief that, having repented her decision, she feared that after four months your ardour might have cooled; so invented this preposterous story of the poison, as a certain means of bringing you back to her side through its appeal to your chivalry.”
He nodded. “You may be right; or it may be that young Quetzal misunderstood something said to him by his friend the witch. It may even be that the boy is lying, for I know that he greatly dislikes Don Diego; but I doubt that from all I know of him. I admit that discovering you to be the Englishwoman referred to instantly shook my own belief. But tell me this. Have you at any time given Don Diego reason to suppose that you would marry him if he were free?”
“Never. Though ’tis possible that he may have put a wrong construction on remarks that I have made as to thoughts about my own future. You know of old how ambitious I have always been; and how I vowed as a girl that I’d be a Duchess before my hair turned grey. ’Tis now two years since Humphrey’s death, and I have recently felt that I would like to marry again. If I do it shall be nothing less than an Earl this time, and one with prospects sufficient for me to have good hopes of raising him to higher rank through my powerful political connections. Diego naturally takes it ill that, being a widow, I will not grant him his desires. So I have fobbed him off by telling him of my ambitions, and vowing that I will lie with no man again until I once more enter a marriage bed. That would give a possible basis for this story; but, even so, I cannot bring myself to believe it.”
“I now doubt it, too. Yet for Isabella’s sake I must act as though I thought her right, and take steps to prevent any possibility of so ghastly an outcome to her fears.”
“You feel, then, definitely committed to elope with her?”
“In view of all that lies between us, I am resolved upon it.”
“Oh, Roger! I know well the mad acts that love at times impels us to. But is there no other way for you in this? Think, dearest! In these Catholic countries there is no divorce; and I greatly doubt her ever getting an annulment of her marriage. She might have had she eloped with you in Naples and later concealed the birth of her child. But since she has had her infant here it can no longer be pleaded that the marriage was never consummated. Think of your future. A man of your parts might rise to any height; but what future can there be for you if you are tied for life to a woman who is not your wife?”
“I know it, and am resigned to that. We shall have to live quietly—under an assumed name perhaps. But we love one another, so we shall be happy.”
Georgina sighed. “I wish that I could think it. But passion is not enough; not even if the bond of intellect goes with it. She has a kind of bookish cleverness, but not a spark of humour. And, Roger dear, I know you so well. After a twelvemonth you would be desperate miserable with any woman who could not laugh with you over the silly stupid sort of things that cause so much merriment to happy baggage, like myself.”
The thought of Amanda Godfrey suddenly came into his mind. She, too, was a “happy baggage” who would never lack things in life at which to laugh. Then he realised that the thought of her had come to him owing to Georgina’s use of the phrase “a bookish cleverness”. Amanda had used it in describing to him the mentality of the cousin whom she had no cause to love. After a second, he replied:
“Making every allowance for my predilection where Isabella is concerned, I think you unjust in your estimate of her. The fact that she is exceptionally well educated for a woman is no demerit. That she is serious-minded by nature, I grant you; but she has great integrity and a most sweet and charming disposition.”
“Mayhap you are right.” The splendid rings on Georgina’s hands glittered as she fluttered them in a little, helpless gesture. “I hardly know her, so am not properly qualified to judge.”
Roger looked puzzled. “But did I not understand that you accompanied the Sidonia y Ulloas from Naples? If so you must have been in their intimate company during a journey occupying the best part of a month.”
“Nay; you are wrong in that. Papa and I met them in Naples and Don Diego began to pay his court to me at once. Naturally I met his Condesa in society, but saw no more of her than I would have of any other wife in similar circumstances. When Diego asked us to visit them in Spain she joined her formal invitation to his pressing one; but we journeyed by different routes. Papa wished to visit Gibraltar, so we arrived here from the South, whereas they came the shorter way via Valencia, and reached Madrid a fortnight before us. On our arrival the Condesa had already left for the country and Don Diego installed us in this charming pavilion, so we did not see her again until we accompanied him to his castle for the birth and celebrations. But tell me, Roger, about the origin of your affaire with her.”
“It was just a year ago at Fontainebleau …” he began; and when he had told the tale their talk led from one thing to another ranging over their experiences in the past year, so it was three o’clock in the morning before they parted.
When they did so Roger was convinced that although Georgina had no thought at all of devoting her future to Don Diego her feeling for him was deeper than most that she experienced; since, much as she wanted to get back to Stillwaters, she had already lingered in Spain on his account longer than she had at first intended, and was still putting off the date of her return from reluctance to break with him. And it was very unlike the strong-minded Georgina to allow her plans to be upset by her love affairs.
Georgina was equally convinced that Roger was caught up in a grande passion for Isabella, and that nothing would now deter him from going through with their elopement. Much as she deplored it as ruinous to his future prospects, she had, out of loyalty, agreed to do everything she could to help him, and she was admirably situated to do so. Roger’s first fence was the difficulty of securing a meeting with Isabella alone, so that they could concert a plan, and Georgina had agreed to bring her to the pavilion at the siesta hour the following day, which would enable the two lovers to spend the whole afternoon together.
In consequence, in the broiling midday sunshine Roger once more arrived at the little Moorish building and, to his delight, he found Isabella already there, alone in the tiled lounge.
They embraced with all their old fervour, and it was several minutes before they were in any state to talk coherently. When, at length, they had regained their breath a little and settled themselves on the divan that Georgina had graced the previous night, Isabella said:
“Let me at once confess myself wrong about Lady Etheredge. I feel convinced now that she has all along been completely innocent of any evil design; and this morning she could not have been sweeter to me. She frankly confesses a great fondness for Diego, and says that in view of my love for you she does not see why she should give him up until she has a mind to return to England. But she will aid us all she can, and assures me that for the whole of this afternoon she will guarantee our remaining undisturbed here.”
“I knew we could count upon her,” Roger smiled, “and I am more glad than I can say that you now recognise her for the dear, sweet creature that she is.”
Isabella nodded. “I have had little chance to do so before, as this morning was the first time we have ever been alone together for more than a few moments. Yet though she be innocent, and despite all she urges to the contrary, I am still convinced that my husband plans to do away with me on her account.”
“Have you, sweet, any fresh evidence of that?”
“None, other than the looks of deadly hatred that he casts at me when he thinks himself unobserved. But Quetzal was so very definite. He is outside now, keeping a watch lest Diego should take it into his head to pay a call upon Lady Etheredge, although that is most unlikely at this hour. I will have the boy in, and you can question him yourself if you wish.”
“If you are yourself convinced upon the matter, that is enough. I will take you away immediately I have completed my arrangements. What, though, of the interim? I had been counting, if pushed to it by dire necessity, on hiding you in Madrid till we could start; but Aranjuez is too small a place to offer any concealment, and the moment you leave your husband a hue and cry will break out. Can you yet guard yourself for a few days?”
“I trust so. I have put myself on a most careful diet, and I doubt if Diego’s sombre thoughts will actually key him up to an attempt until he is driven desperate by Lady Etheredge announcing her intention to return home.”
“Even so, I shall be anxious for you every moment until we can get away. But once we are in England I swear I will do my utmost to make you happy.”
“Life will be far from easy for us,” she murmured. “Diego is a good Catholic and has much influence with the Church; so I am in hopes that he will succeed in putting me from him after a time. But now that I have borne him a child the easiest means of securing an annulment are barred to him.”
“Let us not think of that. The essential thing is to place you beyond reach of danger as swiftly as possible. Tell me; do you regard it as essential to take Quetzal and Maria with us?”
“Naturally I would wish to do so. But in that I am in your hands, my love. ’Tis for you to decide if I may.”
“I should be most loath to deprive you of them. ’Tis bad enough that you should be forced to abandon your infant.”
She shook her head. “I have not had it long enough to acquire a mother’s fondness for the poor little thing; and the fact that it is Diego’s instead of yours has put a check upon the warmth of the feeling which I would normally have for it. My mother and father were at the castle for its birth. She, I know, will give it the tenderest care, unless Diego decides that one of his sisters shall bring it up, and both of them are kindly women.”
“That, at least, is a comfort,” Roger agreed. “The difficulty about our taking Maria and the boy lies in the long journey we must make over bad roads before we can reach a port; and I am much perturbed by it. Your disappearance and mine cannot possibly be concealed for more than a few hours, and in such a small place as Aranjuez everyone will swiftly learn of our going. Whether Don Diego has any genuine desire to reclaim you or nay, ’tis certain that, regarding his honour as touched, he will feel compelled to set off in pursuit; so unless we leave on fast horses and without encumbrances of any kind I greatly fear we shall be overtaken.”
“My clever love, you are right in that; and, knowing in my heart that you would not fail to come for me, ’tis a matter that I have been pondering over ever since I wrote my letter to you.”
“Have you then devised some plan?” Roger asked with quick interest.
“Yes. ’Tis to get my husband sent away on a mission, so that once he has left Aranjuez we will have a clear field.”
“The idea is an excellent one, but are you in any position to carry it out? I gather you have been here only four days, so can know hardly anyone at Court.”
“I was here for a fortnight before going to the castle to have my child, and during that time made at least one powerful friend. I took special pains to cultivate the Queen’s favourite, Manuel Godoy.”
“I was informed that he played no part in State affairs, and that all such matters still lay in the hands of Count Florida Blanca.”
“That is true in the main, but may not continue to be so for long.” Isabella leaned towards him intently. “This is the present situation. Florida Blanca ousted my father from office sixteen years ago and remained supreme in the Councils of Carlos III until the late King’s death; but since the opening of the new reign his position has been by no means so secure. My father, both during his long Ambassadorship in Paris and since his retirement, has always remained the leader of a powerful Opposition. He and Godoy have now formed a secret alliance to oust Florida Blanca.”
Her mouth twitched in a subtle smile, as she went on: “The mission I have in mind is one to France. Their Majesties have for some time been contemplating sending a special envoy there to consult with Louis XVI. As members of his family they are naturally much concerned by the weakening of his power, and are anxious to do anything they can to infuse new strength into the French monarchy. Florida Blanca maintains that all that can be done is already being done by our Ambassador, Count Fernanunez. The Queen, on the other hand, favours sending one of our great nobles to reinforce him. My father was suggested, but he is set upon remaining here, so that should Florida Blanca make a false step he will be at hand to take advantage of it. But my father and Godoy are anxious that whoever is sent to Paris should be pledged to their interests; and Diego possesses all the necessary qualifications. I suggested him to my father, and having obtained his consent put the idea to Manuel Godoy three evenings ago. He thought it admirable, and is at present working on the Queen with that in view.”
Roger looked at her a shade apprehensively. “But if they settle upon Don Diego for this task, would not you, as his wife, have to go with him?”
“Normally I should be expected to do so; but not in my present circumstances. My recent delivery, and the care so young a child still requires, will serve as an admirable excuse for me to remain behind, for a few weeks at least. And I should give out that I intended to follow him later.”
“What view does Don Diego take of this proposal?”
“As yet he is unaware of it. I asked Godoy to make no mention of it to him. I said that should the matter be settled favourably I would like to tell him of it myself, as it is a considerable honour and would prove a pleasant surprise. The truth is I feared that, did he become aware of what was afoot before the Queen’s choice was fixed, he would seek to oppose the plan on account of its separating him from Lady Etheredge.”
“Think you, should he be nominated, that he will go without protest?”
“If ’tis the King’s order he will not dream of questioning it. No Hidalgo of Spain would even contemplate refusing a mission from his Sovereign.” Isabella was smiling a little grimly as she spoke, but after a moment she added with less confidence: “We can count on nothing yet, though. Everything still hangs upon Godoy persuading the Queen of Diego’s suitability for the mission.”
“I would that I could forward this excellent project in some way,” Roger said, with a thoughtful smile. “Tonight, you, I and Don Diego are to have audience of Their Majesties while I recount to them something of my experiences in France. It is just possible that the question of sending a special envoy to Paris may crop up then.”
Isabella’s dark eyes sparkled. “You are right. A word in season is just what is required to decide the Queen, and this may prove the very opportunity to speak it. Could you insert into your discourse some mention of the high regard in which King Louis and Madame Marie Antoinette still hold the d’Aranda, and how they still speak with affection of both him and myself, I pray you, as you love me, do not neglect the chance.”
“On the contrary, I shall seize upon it,” Roger assured her quickly. “And I am filled with admiration for the way in which you, my own, have thought this out and paved the way so skilfully. Should your clever plan succeed, we’ll be spared all the nerve-racking anxiety of a pursued elopement. About mid-May you could announce that you felt your child strong enough to permit of your following your husband, and set out with Maria, Quetzal and a whole coach-load of luggage. I would leave a few days in advance of you, and in a different direction, so that none of Don Diego’s relatives could form the least suspicion that there was any connection between our departures. Then we would meet at a prearranged rendezvous, make our way to Lisbon and be safe aboard a ship before our elopement was even guessed at. Oh, what a blessed relief it will be if only things are made so easy for us!”
Simultaneously, they sighed in happy anticipation of such a fortunate solution to their difficulties and slid once more into one another’s arms.
Nearly three hours later they were still embraced, when there came a discreet knock on the door. They had no idea that the time had passed so swiftly, but it was Georgina who had come to warn them that they ought not to linger for much longer.
When she joined them a few minutes later, Isabella thanked her with special warmth for having arranged the rendezvous, and it was only then that Roger learned how fraught with difficulties their intrigue would have been without her. For it transpired that although Isabella was married, as she was under thirty Spanish etiquette still required that she should have a duenna, and she was never allowed to go outside the grounds of her house without being accompanied by this dragon.
Before Isabella left them she told Roger that she had suggested to her husband that he should dine with them that evening, as the three of them could then go on afterwards to the Palace together; so he would find a note inviting him, at the Embassy villa. Then, when she had gone Roger and Georgina settled down for another talk and a few minutes later Colonel Thursby joined them.
Georgina had no secrets from her fond, indulgent father, and knew that Roger had none either—as far as his love affairs were concerned—so she had told the Colonel that morning of the projected elopement. He had been greatly distressed on hearing of it, and, standing as he did almost as a second father to Roger, he now did his utmost to dissuade him from making an alliance that must prove so disadvantageous to his future. But Roger’s three hours with Isabella had revived much of his old feeling for her, and in the three weeks since he had received her letter he had come to accept it as a fact beyond all argument that, cost what it might in worldly prospects, his life was now irrevocably linked with hers.
At five o’clock, now dressed for the Court, Roger presented himself at the Sidonia y Ulloa mansion, where he found that the party consisted only of his host and hostess, Georgina, Colonel Thursby and Isabella’s duenna. Don Diego received him with extreme politeness and he took special care not to arouse the Count’s jealousy by showing too great a familiarity with Georgina; moreover, knowing that Spanish gentlemen did not even allow their wives to tread a minuet in public with another man, unless they had first received permission to do so, he treated Isabella with the utmost formality, speaking to her only when she addressed a question to him.
Even Georgina showed an unusual restraint in this frigid atmosphere, and the dinner would have proved an exceptionally dull one had it not been for Colonel Thursby. Although he was well aware of the tempestuous undercurrents that lay beneath the restraint of four out of five of his companions, he showed no sign of it. With the ease and polish of a highly cultured man who had spent half a lifetime moving in the best society of the European capitals he opened up a dozen subjects, drawing first one and then another of them into the conversation.
As they rose from the table at the end of the meal, Georgina asked Don Diego how a portrait that he was having painted of himself was progressing. He replied that the Court painter, Goya, seemed quite a talented fellow and bade fair to produce a reasonable likeness; but as to that he would value her opinion. He did not include anyone else in his invitation to see the picture, and as Georgina took his arm Isabella tactfully showed that she had no intention of following them, by drawing Roger’s attention to a fine Velazquez over the mantelpiece in the dining-room.
Out of the corner of his eye Roger caught sight of the old duenna’s face, and was amused to see her give a shocked glance first at Georgina’s back, then in Isabella’s direction. Obviously she was highly scandalised both by the brazen behaviour of the one in going off alone with her host and at the other’s breach of convention in failing to give her guest the protection of her company. As clearly as if the old woman’s skull had been made of glass he could see the thought agitating it, that the moment Don Diego had Georgina outside the door he would commit an assault upon her. Knowing his Georgina so well he was quite certain that Don Diego would get no more than a few kisses, unless she chose to let him; but he thanked his stars that he was not forced to live in a country such as Spain, where a man and woman could not walk down a corridor alone without being suspected of the grossest immorality.
After only about ten minutes the truant pair joined the rest of the party in the salon, and Roger was intrigued to see that, while Georgina appeared completely at her ease, Don Diego could not conceal traces of the most violent emotion. His handsome face had gone quite grey, causing his knife-like nose to stand out grotesquely from it, and his big dark eyes were so limpid that it looked as if tears were likely to roll down his pale cheeks at any moment. His distress was such that he could not speak, and only nodded, when Colonel Thursby reminded him that it was time for those of them who were going to the Palace to start; but Georgina gave him a chance to pull himself together by launching out on a lively appreciation of Señor Goya’s painting.
As soon as Don Diego had somewhat recovered, he, Isabella and Roger said good night to the others and went downstairs to a waiting coach. On the short drive to the Palace Don Diego sat hunched in gloomy silence, and Isabella was greatly puzzled as to what had come over her husband; but Roger was delighted to see him so suddenly and completely overwhelmed. He felt confident that it was due to a measure that he had concerted with Georgina that afternoon, after Isabella had left them, and he could now only pray that the other half of the plot he had contrived would prove equally successful.
On arriving at the Palace they went first to Manuel Godoy’s apartments. The young courtier received them with the usual ceremonious compliments, then led them through several lofty, vaulted corridors to the presence chamber. It was a square room, painted white and gold and hung with tapestries depicting the life of John the Baptist; but it was very sparsely furnished. There were no settees, chests or side tables round its walls; only two high, stiff-backed elbow chairs with foot-rests in front of them stood in the centre, and grouped in a semi-circle before them half a dozen low, upholstered stools. King Carlos and Queen Maria Luisa occupied the chairs, behind them respectively stood two gentlemen and two ladies, and two of the royal children were seated on the stools nearest to their parents.
After the ritual of reception had been observed the Sidonia y Ulloas, being of sufficient rank to enjoy the honour of the tabouret, as the stools were called, sat down on two of them; but Roger was not invited to sit, and during the entire audience he remained standing—a distinction he shared with Manuel Godoy, who, father and grandfather of Kings and Queens as he was later to become, was as yet also considered as too lowly a person to be permitted to ease his feet in the presence of the Sovereigns.
But Roger did not regard this marked discrimination in accordance with birth as strange. He had been privileged to sit on several informal occasions when talking to crowned heads; but the Spanish Court was notoriously rigorous in the maintenance of strict etiquette, and even in England such distinctions were still carefully observed. He remembered once when at Holwood House he had heard Mr. Pitt remark to the company that at official interviews King George III always received hin standing, because the Monarch was too polite to sit down while keeping his Prime Minister on his feet, yet felt that he could not possibly allow a Minister who was a Commoner to be seated; and that on one occasion, although at the time the King was seriously ill, the two of them had discussed business for over four hours while remaining the whole time standing one on either side of a table.
The fat-faced, hook-nosed King Carlos opened the conversation in French—as Roger knew only a few words of Spanish—by enquiring after the health of his cousins Their Majesties of France. Roger replied that when he had last seen them, two months previously, they were both much worried but otherwise in as good health as could be expected. He added that now King Louis was virtually a prisoner in the Tuileries he greatly missed his hunting, but got such exercise as he could by wielding a hammer at his locksmith’s anvil, and also consoled himself to some extent by spending a good part of his time at his other hobby of making clocks.
Queen Maria Luisa then took charge of the proceedings and during the next hour and a half plied Roger with scores of questions.
Among other things she asked him if he had met the Spanish Ambassador; so, while not unduly depreciating the qualities of the Conde Fernanunez, he had an excellent opportunity for saying how highly the Conde d’Aranda and his family were still esteemed at the Court of France. But most of her questions concerned the new powers assumed by the National Assembly and the scenes of violence that had taken place.
The Spanish Sovereigns were incredibly shocked by his description of the attack on Versailles and the events that had followed it; as, although they had had numerous written accounts of these matters from various sources, they had never before heard them described by an eye-witness, and had little idea of the indignities to which the Royal Family of France had been subjected.
When the Queen could think of no more questions to ask she turned her beady little eyes on the King and said something to him in Spanish.
Up to then Don Diego, evidently occupied with his own sombre thoughts, had paid only the attention demanded by politeness to what was going on; but at the Queen’s words Roger saw him give a violent start.
After a moment the dull-witted King nodded his head and, still speaking in French, replied: “Yes, we must certainly send a special envoy, if only to show our sympathy. He could, at the same time, press them on that other matter.”
Suddenly Don Diego jumped to his feet, threw himself on one knee before his Sovereigns, and began to gabble away in Spanish at nineteen to the dozen.
Roger glanced at Isabella; her face was flushed and her eyes were shining with excitement. He looked at Godoy; the favourite’s well-modelled mouth was curved in a pleased smile. He knew then that the plot he had hatched with Georgina that afternoon was working.
In Don Diego’s pleading he caught the word “Neapoli”, then the name “d’Aranda” several times repeated, so he was able to guess the gist of what the Count was saying to be: “As I have lived in Naples since the beginning of Your Majesty’s reign, I have so far had little opportunity to be of service to you. I beg you now to allow me to show my devotion as your envoy to Paris, and as the son-in-law of the Conde d’Aranda utilise the prestige his name still carries there.”
The Queen spoke to the King; the heavy Monarch nodded; Don Diego jumped up with a delighted cry and kissed the hands of first one then the other; Isabella joined her thanks to those of her husband by throwing herself at the feet of the Queen, and received a friendly pat on the head. The two Infantes, Godoy, and the ladies-and gentlemen-in-waiting all exclaimed with pleasure and offered Don Diego their congratulations.
The little scene was a revelation to Roger that the Spaniards did, on occasion, show spontaneous emotion; but it was soon over, for, as though ashamed of having done so, they swiftly resumed their formal dignity, and in that atmosphere the audience was terminated. Godoy alone continued to give free rein to his exuberance, and when he had escorted the visitors from the presence chamber he at once insisted that before going home they should take a glass of wine with him to the success of the mission.
In his apartment a fine old Malaga was produced, and when the toast had been drunk the handsome favourite courteously asked Roger if he would permit him to speak in Spanish with Don Diego for a few moments. Roger only too willingly consented, as it gave him an opportunity to offer his arm to Isabella, and lead her to the other side of the room on the pretext of admiring a fine collection of bull-fighting swords that hung on the wall there.
As they stood looking at the beautifully chased blades of blue Toledo steel, she whispered with a little catch in her voice: “What marvellous fortune, my love! For him to request this mission himself was more than I could possibly have hoped for. But why he should wish to go to Paris I cannot think.”
“I can,” Roger whispered back. “We owe this to Lady Etheredge. She intended to stay on here for some time, and when at length she could bring herself to break with him, to hurry back to England. But out of fondness for me she agreed instead to tell him that she means to spend some time in Paris on her way home, and had decided to set out next week. It was her telling him so after dinner that caused his desperate agitation, and what followed was the result of it.”
Isabella squeezed his arm. “Oh! Rojé, what a brilliant stroke of yours; and how grateful I am to her.”
“But in this we have courted a great risk,” he warned her gravely. “With time before him Don Diego may well have been putting off so terrible a decision as to make a definite attempt upon your life. Now his coming departure will force him to face the issue. Either he must abandon his awful thought and go to Paris still tied to you, or seek to gain his freedom by using the poison before he sets out. You could still slip away tonight and I could meet you to escort you to some place of hiding; but otherwise I beg you not to relax your watchfulness for a single moment.”
She turned a trifle pale, but her low voice was firm. “You are right. Only now has my danger become acute. Yet to leave home prematurely would be to throw away all that we have gained. On the plea of health I shall drink naught but water and place myself on an even stricter diet.”
A few minutes later they were in the coach on their way to the Embassy villa, with the intention of dropping Roger there. It had not proceeded fifty yards before Don Diego said to his wife:
“Señor Godoy has warned me that this mission has been under consideration for some time; so Her Majesty now wishes it to leave with a minimum of delay. We are to set out next week, so it would be well for you to start tomorrow on your preparations for our departure.”
Roger was filled with admiration for the steadiness of Isabella’s voice, as she replied: “If that is your wish it is for me to obey you. But have you as yet given full thought to our child? He is not yet a month old and we could not possibly expose him at so tender an age to the hazards of the journey. For another month at least he should have my personal care. Would it not be best if I remain with him till mid-May, then follow you to Paris?”
For a long moment Don Diego remained silent. Roger and Isabella hardly dared to breathe. For them everything now hung on this decision, and they both knew that should it prove unfavourable to them she could not possibly disobey her husband.
After what seemed an eternity Don Diego said: “I judge you right, Madame. You had best remain here with our son for another month or so.”
When they dropped Roger at the villa he waited there for half an hour to give ample time for the coast to be clear, then walked round to see Georgina and the Colonel in their Moorish pavilion.
As soon as he told them how perfectly the plot had worked they both expressed their pleasure for him, but Georgina was very far from being in her usual good humour.
“Oh, damn you, Roger!” she exclaimed, after a moment. “Paris is the very last place to which I would wish to go, now ’tis in the hands of those vile revolutionaries. Yet on your account I am committed to it.”
“Knowing your reluctance to do so, I am all the more grateful,” he said gently. “But you have said several times that you are not yet disposed to break with Don Diego, and now you can both travel with him on the greater part of your journey home and remain in Paris with him as long as you wish.”
“But now that spring is here, ’tis at Stillwaters I wish to be,” she murmured petulantly.
He smiled. “It has ever been your nature to wish to have your cake and eat it too; but you cannot both be soon at Stillwaters and keep Don Diego. You told me last night that rather than give him up you meant to stay on here for some time.”
“I did indeed. The dratted man holds some special fascination for me. Yet I think by the end of the month I might have worked myself free of it. And you know well my habit of letting things slide until some incident causes me to take a sudden decision. As long as Papa and I remained here we could at any time by way of Lisbon have got home in a month; whereas now it will take us much more than that to get to Paris; so I’ll be lucky if I see Stillwaters before June is gone.”
“Come, my dear,” Colonel Thursby said quietly. “ ’Tis not like you to grudge some upsetting of plans for your own pleasure in the urgent service of so old a friend as Roger.”
“Nay,” she replied, with a sudden smile. “I fear I am being plaguey churlish, Roger dear. I beg you to forgive me.”
“There is naught to forgive.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I am beyond expression grateful for all you have done and are about to do.”
They arranged that Georgina should again contrive for Isabella to come to the pavilion on the following day; then Roger took his leave.
The demands of his own affairs during the past thirty hours had by no means put out of his mind Mr. Pitt’s business; so next day, in the cool of the morning, he went to the Palace and waited upon the Caballero Heredia.
The Spaniard expressed courteous surprise at receiving a second visit from him after a lapse of only two days; but Roger again stressed the urgency of the matter upon which he had been sent to Spain, and asked when he was to have his audience with the Count Florida Blanca.
“I fear, Monsieur, that you have failed to take into account the fact that many urgent matters must always claim the attention of a Prime Minister,” the Caballero replied blandly. “And at present His Excellency happens to be particularly heavily engaged. I have no doubt that he will make time to receive you in the course of the next few days, or early next week at the latest. In the meantime perhaps you will permit me to show you something of our beautiful Spain. Have you yet visited Toledo?”
Roger had to admit that he had not; and, although he was most loath to leave Aranjuez even for a night, when the diplomat offered to take him there he felt that he could not possibly refuse the invitation. So it was arranged that the Caballero should call for him next morning in a carriage, then they would spend Wednesday night in Toledo and make the return drive on Thursday morning.
As Roger strolled back along the leafy avenues leading from the Palace, he decided that, although diplomatic politeness had forced him to accept this first invitation, it did not require him to suffer any further attempts on Heredia’s part to gain time by taking him on such expeditions. Before leaving he had again pressed most strongly for an early audience with the Prime Minister, and if it was not granted by the end of the week he meant to begin making Heredia’s life a misery by going to badger him every day.
King Carlos’ words—“He could, at the same time, press them on that other matter”, when referring to the envoy he was sending to condole with the French Sovereigns on their misfortunes—had not escaped Roger; and he felt certain the “other matter” was to secure a definite promise from the French that they would honour the Family Compact in the event of Spain going to war with Britain over Nootka Sound. Although there was no outward sign of it he knew that the arrival of a personal representative from Mr. Pitt must have set the Court of Spain in a fine flutter. And that, he guessed, was the reason why Don Diego was being hurried off to France with barely a week’s notice, instead of being allowed to set out at his leisure.
When Roger met Isabella in the afternoon he had from her an exciting confirmation of his suppositions. At eleven o’clock that morning her husband had received an order to wait upon Count Florida Blanca in the evening to receive his instructions. The note had further stated that Don Diego was now to be ready to leave Aranjuez not later than Thursday morning, and to make arrangements for the bulk of his baggage to follow him, as he was to proceed to Paris with all possible speed.
Roger had no doubt at all that this un-Spanish haste was the direct result of his call on Heredia some two hours before Don Diego had received the order; and was overjoyed by it. Actually, like Georgina, he was still far from convinced that Isabella’s husband had ever had any intention of poisoning her; but the possibility that there might be real grounds for her suspicions was quite enough to cause him incessant anxiety. And now, the putting forward of Don Diego’s departure reduced the time left him in which to make an attempt on her to less than two days.
For three happy hours they managed to put her danger out of their minds. When they parted it was with the terribly exciting thought that although, owing to Roger’s trip to Toledo, they must somehow get through the awful strain of Wednesday without meeting, by Thursday afternoon Don Diego would be gone. The cover provided by Georgina would no longer be necessary. Roger would have only to slip through the gate for them to continue to meet in secret with little risk in the pavilion; and that when they next did so, in forty-eight hours’ time, Isabella would be safe and free.
Having installed Roger in the villa, Mr. Merry, on the plea that his Consular duties required his attention in the capital, had returned to Madrid the previous afternoon; so that night Roger dined alone. After the meal he could not get his mind off the subject of poison, so spent a very bad four hours until it was dark enough for him to go round to the Moorish pavilion without risk of running into Don Diego.
He found Georgina in greatly improved spirits. First thing that morning Don Diego had called, told her with delight of his mission to Paris and begged that she and her father would travel in his company. Then, a few hours later, he had informed them that he would be leaving early on Thursday, and asked that they would leave all arrangements about sleeping coaches, a travelling kitchen and provisions to him. Her reluctance to go to Paris at all had been considerably mollified by a start being possible much earlier than she had expected, and Don Diego’s intention of travelling at a speed which should get them there in a month, as the two factors combined might yet enable her to be at Stillwaters by the end of May.
As they would now be leaving before Roger’s return from Toledo it was his last chance to talk to them about his own plans. Colonel Thursby, with a kindness typical of him, said that when Roger and Isabella reached London they were welcome to occupy his house in Bedford Square until they could find a place to live permanently, and Georgina said that Stillwaters would always be at their disposal. But suddenly, just as Roger was about to take his leave, she stood up, faced him squarely, and said:
“I still cannot bring myself to believe in the poison plot. I beg you, Roger, to give me your assurance that had you not been informed of it, and had some earlier opportunity occurred to revive your intimacy with the Condesa, you would still have formed this determination of eloping with her as soon as she had been delivered of her child?”
Roger had never told Georgina a lie in his life, and he could not bring himself to do so now.
“Nay,” he said quietly. “I fear I cannot give you that assurance. After I left Naples I counted the matter as a chapter in my life that was closed. But I am deeply attached to Isabella and believe that we shall be happy. In any case, my honour is now involved in it, and nothing would induce me to draw back.”
Feeling there was no more that she could say, she let him go. But no sooner was he outside the door than she burst into tears at the thought of the trouble she believed him to be laying up for himself: and her wise, adoring father could think of little to say to bring her comfort as she sobbed again and again:
“ ’Tis a tragedy, a tragedy! I would give ten years of my own life could I but think of some way to prevent it.”
Roger slept ill on account of his anxiety for Isabella, and he had puzzled his wits in vain for some way of assuring himself that no ill had befallen her before he set off for Toledo; so, when the Caballero Heredia called for him at eight o’clock, he had to start on his trip still ignorant whether Don Diego had utilised his last night but one in Aranjuez to attempt her murder.
The day was fine and the drive pleasant, as the road lay for the whole thirty miles they had to cover along the banks of the Tagus, and the tortuous course of the river provided variety in an otherwise flattish landscape. Had Roger not been so worried for Isabella he would have thought even the distant sight of the ancient capital of Spain well worth the long drive, as it was set on a rugged pinnacle of granite, the foot of which was washed on three sides by a great bend in the river, and its towers, battlements and spires rising tier after tier against the blue sky made it look like a fairy city.
After the siesta they visited the Cathedral and in its treasury saw the image of the Virgin, roped with millions of doubloons’ worth of pearls and other gems, that is carried in procession through the street on feast days; but Roger was more interested in the strange, distorted, greenish-hued paintings by El Greco that hung in the chapels of many of the lesser churches. He was, too, fascinated by the unusual silence that pervaded so large a city, on account of the cobbled ways between its old Moorish buildings being mostly too steep and narrow to permit the passage of traffic. In the evening they went to the fortress-palace of the Alcazar, where the Governor entertained them to a meal and provided them with accommodation for the night.
On the Thursday morning they set off early on the return journey and were back in Aranjuez just before midday. In normal circumstances Roger would have enjoyed the excursion enormously, and he did his best to show his appreciation to Heredia; but he got rid of the Caballero at the earliest possible moment in order to hurry round to the Sidonia y Ulloa mansion.
When visiting the pavilion earlier in the week he had never seen anyone about the grounds during the siesta hour and, had he done so, he could have said that he was calling on his compatriot, Colonel Thursby. Now he no longer had that excuse he wondered a little anxiously if his luck would hold, and he would continue to escape observation. But that anxiety was a small matter compared with the acute one to reassure himself that Isabella had come unharmed through her husband’s last two days in Aranjuez.
As he hurried down the avenue he saw Quetzal standing outside the gate. An awful doubt seized upon his mind. Had Isabella stationed the boy there to warn him that there was someone in the grounds or was he, knowing that she expected her lover, waiting there to break some ghastly news?
A moment later Quetzal caught sight of him and began to run in his direction. During his visit to Naples, and while in Aranjuez, Roger had not seen the little Indian, so it was over ten months since they had met. He thought the youngster had grown considerably, and his education had evidently progressed; as, when he was still some twenty yards off, he broke out into heavily accented but quite understandable French:
“Monsieur le Chevalier! I have a carriage waiting. We are to collect your things and set out at once for Madrid.”
“For Madrid!” echoed Roger. “In God’s name, why?”
“Yes. They will sup and rest there before proceeding further. If we start at once we can catch them up by nightfall. My mistress said you could give as an excuse for joining them a belated thought that you would like to make the journey to Paris in the company of your English friends.”
“What the devil are you talking about?” Roger exclaimed. “I have no wish to go to Paris. I could not, even if I had, as important matters detain me here. Tell me at once_________”
“But you must! You must!” the boy broke in. “Did you not come to Spain to save my mistress?”
“Indeed I did!”
“Then how can you allow aught else to detain you?”
Quetzal’s black eyes were now flashing angrily, and Roger, still at a loss to understand what lay behind his excited words, cried with puzzled impatience:
“Mort Dieu! Be plain with me. Is your mistress still alive and well?”
“Would I be here if she were not?”
“Thank God for that! Then take me to her.”
“Am I not begging to do so? The carriage waits.”
“What! Mean you that she has gone to Madrid?”
“Have I not said so, Monsieur?”
“You had not! But why? Why has she gone? Is it that she has accompanied them on the first stage of the journey, and means to see them off from the capital?”
“It was the Queen, Monsieur. Yesterday Her Majesty learned of my mistress’s decision to remain here with her baby. She was angry. She said that the name Sidonia y Ulloa means nothing in Paris; but that of d’Aranda everything. That ’tis not Don Diego, but my mistress, who is the friend of Madame Marie Antoinette, and so can help to win her support for the cause of Spain. Last night there came with all this I tell you an imperative order from the Queen. So my mistress is still with that fiend who would murder her, and now on her way to Paris.”