Return to Mariposa

Chapter 4

The Queen’s Room was at the back end of beyond. Granda’s massive suite had always commanded the top floor, giving him three hundred and sixty degree views of the countryside and his possessions. They may have brought him down to a lower floor in deference to his age and illness, but I doubted it. If Granda couldn’t walk, he’d make someone carry him, imperious as ever.

I took my time as I wandered through the familiar halls, touching a piece of furniture here, pieces of artwork that I remembered from my childhood. There was the huge copper bowl we’d taken and used as a witch’s caldron, the delicate sculpture of the ballet dancer that I now recognized as a real Degas. Everything was the same, even after twelve long years, and it felt unreal.

His door was closed, but I knew he was in there. I could smell the unmistakable odor of medicine and illness even through the door, a hospital-like smell that immediately had my stomach in knots. I had spent too much time in hospitals as my mother had slowly succumbed to cancer, and I could feel the remembered tension running through my body. I tapped on the door lightly, then pushed it open.

At first I thought I’d made a mistake, and the room was deserted. It was dark, the curtains and shutters closed, and the high bed looked empty. And then I saw him lying there.

He was so much smaller than he had been. I remembered Granda as a huge, commanding presence. Tall, overshadowing the adolescents under his wing, he’d been a powerful man with massive shoulders and a leonine head. The man who lay in the bed was only a remnant of that man, a gaunt, still figure barely disturbing the surface of the covers.

The reality of everything hit me then, like a slap in the face. Things were not the same. This was Granda, the man who had meant everything to me, who had turned his back on me, and he was dying. And he still didn’t want me.

“Bella? Is that you?” His voice was no more than a faint croak, so unlike the booming strength I was used to, and I moved closer to the bed, giving him a tremulous smile.

“Hello, Granda.” I didn’t need to affect Bella’s husky drawl—my voice was raw with unshed tears.

He looked me up and down in the dim room. “About time you got here,” he said finally, his voice a little stronger. “What kept you?”

“I came as soon as I could.”

He made a derisive noise, suddenly sounding like Granda again. “I’m sure you had more important things to do than visit your dying grandfather. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re here now, and you’re staying.”

“Granda, I can’t stay,” I said desperately. The charade was already taking its toll, and there was no way in hell I could carry it off for any length of time. “I have things I need to take care of...”

“There’s nothing more important than family,” he said firmly, and the words sent an unconscious stab through my heart. “You’re part of Mariposa, of its past and present and future, and I will have you all here while I decide how I’m going to deal with it.”

“Deal with it? I’m not interested in your money, Granda. I came to see you.” True enough on my part, and true, I hoped, on Bella’s. At least, that was what she’d told me, and I had no choice but to believe her.

He snorted again. “Turn on some lights, will you? I can’t see a damned thing.”

“You want me to open the shutters?”

“Hell, no. Damned sunshine gives me a headache.”

I had passed muster with Ian, who was younger and sharper and more suspicious. I should have no worries about fooling Granda. I moved to the bedside and switched on the lamp. The light bulb was dim, presumably in deference to his sensitive eyes, but I could see him clearly now, as he could see me, and the shock slammed into me, leaving me breathless.

He was old. His waving hair was thin now, white, cut short on his skull. There were liver spots on his cheeks, his eyes were sunken and slightly cloudy, and his body was almost skeletal. I wanted to touch him, to comfort him, to comfort myself, but I stayed where I was. What would Bella do?

“You look the same,” he said in a grumbly voice, and I relaxed slightly at his familiar, irascible tone. “Shorter, though.”

“I’m barefoot. I usually wear heels.” Shit. He was more observant than I’d hoped. Still, with those clouded eyes, the differences between Bella and me were almost negligible.

He nodded, accepting. “You saw your cousin Ian.”

“Not exactly my cousin,” I reminded him. “We have no blood connection.”

“Family is more than blood,” the old man snapped. “When will you realize that?”

“I realize it,” I said quietly. “He wasn’t happy to see me.”

“I would guess not,” Granda said with a rough laugh. “Marcus won’t be any happier. You were a fool to break it off with him.”

I agreed. Unless he’d changed substantially, I couldn’t imagine anyone rejecting Marcus. But clearly Bella had her own thoughts on the matter. “It wouldn’t have worked,” I said, shoving a careless hand through my hair in a patented Bella gesture. “I did us both a favor.”

“You did me no favors!” Granda snapped. “Why do you think I brought those boys into the family?”

“I assumed it had to do with the fact that they were orphaned and the children of your stepson. It was the right thing to do.”

“And when have you known me to do the right thing, simply because it was?” he said, sounding more like his old self. He pushed himself up on the pillows, and I wanted to help him, but I knew anything I did would be rejected. He had always been a proud, stubborn man, and that part of him was untouched by illness. “I had no grandsons, and I needed young men to train, to take over Mariposa. But they were supposed to be for you and Kitty, to build the dynasty.”

The sound of my own name on his lips was a shock. I’d thought I was forgotten, blotted out of the family Bible if such a thing existed, and knowing Granda, it probably did. I took a deep breath. “You should have known you can’t control love.”

“Who’s talking about love? I’m talking about business, about my empire, about money. You used to have a level head on your shoulders.”

“I still do,” I said stiffly.

“Well, you’re not married yet. Marcus may have gotten over you, but there’s always the chance you could make him fall in love with you all over again. He’s gullible enough.”

“No!” The thought made me ill. How had I let myself get into this mess? It was bad enough that I was getting what I wanted by lies and pretense. To have Marcus, beautiful, unattainable Marcus, touch me, touch Bella-me, would be unbearable. I took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Granda, but I can’t do what you want me to do. Marcus and I have gone our separate ways.”

He made a dismissive noise, and I knew he hadn’t given up. “Then what about Ian?”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “Ian hates me and always has.”

“I’ve never known you to accept defeat. There’s not a man who could resist you if you put your mind to it.”

He was right. Bella could have anyone she wanted, but the idea of her and Ian was so absurd I laughed again. “Anyone but Ian.”

“We have time,” he said. “I’m not going to meet my maker for a little while, at least. And if you have any hope of getting your part of your inheritance, you’re going to stay put as well. I know your financial situation is far more precarious than you like to pretend—I have my lawyers keep track of you. You can’t afford to turn your back on Mariposa, any more than you can turn your back on me.”

“I don’t want to turn my back on you,” I said with sudden intensity. “I love you; don’t you know that? I would never leave if I could help it.”

For a moment, he said nothing, and I had the odd feeling that I’d manage to startle him. “Well, then,” he said in a softer voice, “it’s settled. You’ll stay.”

I stared at him numbly as I felt the walls close in around me. An afternoon, Bella had said. Maybe spend the night and leave the next morning. It would be easy as pie—people believed what they wanted to and no one would ever suspect.

It had been easy enough so far. No one had questioned me, and I’d faced two of the people who would be most likely to notice any discrepancy. I had no particular concerns about the cousins if they showed up before I left, but Marcus was a different matter. He would be the real test, but I somehow knew I could pass that one with flying colors. I was stuck here, in the place I loved most, and the more I struggled, the tighter the bonds were.

I looked down at Granda, and covered his thin, skeletal hand with mine. “I’ll stay.”

By the timeI made it back to my room, my clothes were already in the vast closets, the expensive suitcases taken away, and I was suddenly unutterably weary. It was early afternoon, and I’d been through a lot in the few hours since I’d arrived in Spain. Bella had said siestas were a thing of the past. Not in my case.

I pushed the shutters closed, leaving enough room for the fresh air to come in, stripped off the ruined suit, and lay down on the bed. I’d been expecting something hard and uncomfortable, but it felt like heaven. All I had to do was close my eyes, and I was gone.

When I awoke, the room was in deep shadow, the light from the cracked shutters murky and dim. I stared at the slim Piaget watch on my wrist. Five-thirty. How could I have slept so long?

I still felt groggy, but I pushed the unfamiliar curls away from my face. In fact the hairstyle had been dead easy, once the color was a match. All I had to do was scrunch my wet hair instead of blowing it dry, and it would become a mass of soft curls. Of course, I was supposed to tighten it up with the judicious use of a curling iron that Bella had paid a hundred and fifty dollars for, ignoring my protest that they could be bought for ten dollars at the local drug store. And I would, at least as long as I was at Mariposa. But once I escaped and got to Paris, I’d throw the damned thing out.

I rolled over on my back, contemplating my situation, trying to still my nervousness. In fact, what did I have to lose? Nothing was waiting for me back in New Hampshire. My belongings were in storage, Bella was looking after my car, there was no place I needed to be until classes started in the fall. Assuming I could find more funding. I could stay here for weeks, even a couple of months, and still have a few days in Paris before I returned, and I could save money while I was doing it. So far, it had been dead easy, and if I was reasonably careful, I could spend time with Granda, at Mariposa, wallow in the joy and feel of the place, storing it all inside for the time I’d leave again, never to return.

I pushed myself out of bed. I felt sticky, dirty, and starving. One thing had changed about the Queen’s Room—there was an ensuite bathroom, and I found, to my relief, that it had been renovated so that the shower was a huge marble affair with water spouting from a dozen places with a built-in bench. It was preset for the perfect temperature, which was a heavenly indulgence after years of being frozen, then scalded by cantankerous showers, and I stood beneath the overhead spray and hummed with an almost orgasmic delight. I wanted to stay in there forever, but I was too hungry, and it wasn’t until I stepped out, wrapping my body and my hair in thick towels, that I realized I’d washed off all the carefully applied makeup. Shit.

If I were to dress in Full Bella mode, it would take me an hour and a half to get the hair and makeup right, and I’d probably faint from hunger first. I’d already passed muster with Granda and Ian, and there was a strong chance I wouldn’t even see them again tonight. I could be relatively safe doing a half-assed job on everything.

I dutifully scrunched my hair, put on the ridiculously flimsy underwear Bella had insisted on, even though the likelihood of anyone seeing my underwear was slim. My makeup was laid out on the dressing table in the bathroom, and I slapped on some foundation and mascara, plus the signature lipstick. That would have to do.

Bella had reluctantly allowed jeans, and the price had been so horrifying that I’d blotted it out of my mind. I couldn’t see much difference between my well-worn Levi’s and the three figure version she’d okayed, but at least they were denim and comfortable. There was a lavender silk and cotton knit top that clung in all the right places, and a pair of low-heeled short boots that were my best choice for walking. I glanced in the mirror. Yes, it was still Bella looking back, though a more casual, comfortable Bella, and another layer of tension left me.

The vast kitchen was empty. I headed for the refrigerator, pulling out the makings of a chicken sandwich, when I felt someone behind me, and I stiffened before I realized it was only Maldonado.

“May I assist you, Miss Bella?” The question sounded more like an order than an offer, but I turned and smiled at him, and he blinked in surprise.

“I’m fine. I just need something to eat—I’m famished.” I set the food down on the wide wooden table. I found a fresh-baked loaf of bread on the counter. “Can I get you something?”

Wrong thing to say. He looked shocked, and I realized that Bella had no trouble thinking of the servants as servants, creatures put on this earth to serve her. After all, they were being well paid for their work, and why should she feel guilty, she’d always said.

But I was half-American, and more sensitive about class issues. I’d never been comfortable with people waiting on me, and the people working at Mariposa had always been my friends, including Maldonado. He’d taught me to play dominoes and told me stories about Spanish fairies when I was younger; he’d been a safe haven when Ian had been a pain and Bella and Marcus had gone off together. I looked at him and realized I’d missed him almost as much as Granda.

“Certainly not, Miss Bella,” he said. And then for a moment he unbent, just a bit. “But I thank you for your kind offer.”

“No problem,” I said, perching on one of the stools. “Sorry I left my room, but I had to see Granda, and then I realized I was starving.”

His momentary softening vanished as he stared at me in disapproval. “You visited your grandfather?”

“I did.” My throat tightened for a moment, and I put my sandwich down. “He looks awful. He really is going to die this time, isn’t he?” I couldn’t keep the grief from my voice. I should have been more flippant about it; Bella never liked strong emotions, but I couldn’t help it.

“Yes, miss,” he said in a marginally kinder voice.

“How long has he been like this?” I was almost afraid to ask.

“He’s been going downhill for the last two years. You should have come sooner.”

Yes, she should have. “I...I had other obligations.”

“He kept asking for you, Miss Bella. And you kept making excuses.”

There was no reason why guilt should stab me. It was Bella who had kept away by choice, not me. I felt a faint, seismic shift in my perceptions. Why the hell hadn’t Bella come?

“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” I said breezily, shoving a hand through my hair in her patented gesture. “And I told him I’d stay as long as he wants me here.”

I’d managed to surprise Maldonado. “Indeed, Miss Bella?” He sounded skeptical. “Do you need me to make arrangements for the rest of your clothes?”

I’d forgotten that by Bella’s standards, my wardrobe was scant indeed. “It’ll be fine,” I said. “Though I might want to look into renting a car while I’m here.”

“There are more than enough vehicles in the garages, Miss Bella, including your Alfa, and needless to say they’re all kept in excellent condition. You only need ask your cousin Ian.”

Not on my list of top ten favorite things to do. Ian always had and always would be a pain in the butt, a necessary evil, the dark side of Marcus’s golden prince. But in the last few hours, things had shifted, our original plan of an afternoon’s charade had gone to hell in a handbasket, and I had embraced the new reality without regret. I was staying here as long as I could. If the worst happened, and I was unmasked, what could they do? Only Bella could be damaged by the truth—I was already stripped of my membership in the family, an outcast. If they found out, I would simply leave, enjoy my time in Paris, and return home, at least having had the chance to say goodbye to Granda and Mariposa.

And Marcus.

Maldonado hadn’t moved, towering over me disapprovingly. I smiled at him. “Are you going to stand guard while I eat my sandwich? Because I thought I’d take it outside and go for a walk. It’s been a long time since I was last here. You can keep me company if you wish...”

In the past, Maldonado would have walked with me, spinning stories of when Granda’s father had first come back to Mariposa, after the Spanish Civil War, when everything had been in an uproar and he’d been determined to take the small holding and turn it into one of the world’s premier makers of the particularly Spanish form of liquid gold. Olive oil.

But Maldonado had changed. Or maybe, just maybe, it had to do with the woman he thought he spoke to. I couldn’t remember whether he had ever liked Bella, but she’d never had any time for him and his stories.

I almost opened my mouth to reassure him, to tell him I’d changed in the years I’d been gone. But that would have accomplished nothing. In the short run, it might make me happier, but in the end Bella would return, and for all her charm, there was no denying she was a cheerfully self-absorbed creature who evinced little interest in other people’s stories, particularly those of the people put on earth to serve her.

I immediately felt guilty, disloyal. Throughout my exile, only Bella had remained as part of my family. But loyalty didn’t mean being blind to someone’s faults and Bella had plenty of them. She just managed to make them seem inconsequential with one of her blinding smiles and sweet words.

“I’m afraid I have work to do,” he said in his dour voice. “You should keep to the gardens. Mr. Ian wouldn’t want you interfering in the farm.”

“Noted,” I said breezily, heading back to the massive, restaurant-style steel refrigerator. I observed the lack of Diet Coke with appropriate grief, then grabbed a bottle of limonata. Two months without DC? Impossible! “Could you see if it’s possible to get me some Diet Coke? I don’t know how hard it is to find around here, but I’d appreciate it.”

He stared at me as if I’d grown two heads, and I knew a moment’s unease. I quickly scrambled to cover any possible slip-up. “I decided it isn’t so bad. But if they don’t have any here, then it doesn’t matter. Just a thought.”

He was still looking at me oddly. “I’ll see to it, Miss Bella.”

“Cool.” I turned, ready to escape, just in time to see Granda’s Bentley glide to a stop by the kitchen door, and my heart sank. Marcus wasn’t coming till tomorrow, which mean that it could only be the cousins, Mary Alice and Valerie. I wanted to pound my head against the wooden counter. Mary Alice was the most interfering female I’d ever met, and the momentary peace at Mariposa would be effectively shattered by her presence.

Maldonado moved past me, and a moment later I heard Mary Alice’s strident voice issuing orders as I contemplated a hasty retreat to my bedroom.

I waited too long—a moment later, she marched in, coming to a dead stop when she saw me, her patrician face disdainful, and I remembered that she and Bella had always been dire enemies, both of them jockeying to be the lady of the manor.

Mary Alice Ingram was a born aristocrat, from her long, thin body to her silken hair and aquiline nose. She neither listened to nor cared for any opinions but her own, and her sister Valerie was her loyal stooge. They were both older—Mary Alice was probably forty by now, but not a line appeared in her well-preserved face or beneath her slightly protuberant eyes. Her artfully tinted hair was tucked in a perfect knot at the nape of her long, thin neck and her linen suit was both spotless and miraculously unwrinkled.

For her part, Valerie looked like a gym teacher—stolid, no-nonsense, with sturdy legs and stocky body, short-cropped hair, and the predatory look of someone who always knew some better way to do something—and the only person she listened to was her elegant older sister.

Once more, I cursed Bella and her supposedly effortless masquerade. “Mary Alice,” I said in Bella’s husky drawl. “Long time no see.”

Mary Alice looked me up and down and clearly found me wanting. “Don’t be ridiculous, Bella. We ran into other last winter at St. Tropez.” She eyed me doubtfully. “You look different.”

Holy shit.I gave her an easy smile. “I’m still the same, Mary Alice. Hello, Valerie,” I greeted the woman behind her.

Valerie, unlike her older sister, had always been victim to Bella’s charms, though if she’d ever heard some of the names Bella had called her, that would have stopped. “Podge” was downright flattery compared with Bella’s barbs.

She gave me a conflicted smile, and I figured strong-minded Mary Alice would have warned her not to have anything to do with me. At least I hoped so.

“We need our rooms, Maldonado,” Mary Alice announced. “Dinner at seven-thirty, not the usually obscene hour you Spaniards prefer. We’ll have drinks on the terrace beforehand—you can let the others know.”

“Your grandfather prefers to eat at nine.”

“Then feed him separately. I assume he’s too ill to come to the table. We’ll have dinner at a reasonable hour and then visit him.”

“Evenings aren’t good for him...” he began.

“He’ll be fine. Seeing his favorite granddaughter will give him new life.”

I rolled my eyes, and Valerie caught me. I immediately came up with an innocent smile. “You might check with Ian about that, Mary Alice,” I said. “He’s in charge now, and supposedly Marcus will be back tomorrow.” I managed not to choke on the words. “I imagine both of them are used to later meals.”

“Marcus will be here?” Mary Alice said. “How very interesting for you, Bella. I do hope you’ll manage to be civilized.”

As Podge, I’d always found Mary Alice extremely irritating. As Bella I wanted to smack her. I gave her a lazy smile. “Being civilized is highly overrated.”

Maldonado broke in. “Mrs. Ingram, you will have the pink room. Mrs. Bellamy, you’ll be in the nursery.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Maldonado. I always sleep in the Queen’s Room.”

“Miss Bella is in the Queen’s Room.”

If anything, Mary Alice appeared even more affronted. “I always sleep in the Queen’s Room,” she said again, spearing me with a meaningful glance.

“Then you’ll enjoy the change,” I said sweetly. “I’m going for a walk, Maldonado. I’ll leave you to get the cousins settled.”

And I was gone, out into the early evening light, my food clutched in my hand.