Lola Montez Conquers the Spaniards (29 page)

“What do you mean, lie?” Diego looked curious. “At this stage, if you're taken, it's better if you only know your own task in the venture.”

“Why?” I persisted.

“If you're tortured you'll give us all away, of course,” Concha sneered. “Though in your case, you blabbermouth, that's a given anyway.”

Diego punched him again, swiftly, and leaned in to his face. “Sabres! Dawn, tomorrow morning.”

“Stop it!” Matilde suddenly screamed, “Stop it this minute! All of you!”

There was a pause, then Diego told Concha, “She's right, forget about it.” He faced the other conspirators and gave each a task to perform over the next week: Mine was to return to the palace, to discover everything possible about the regular movements of the guards within the vast building, and to ascertain the layout of the private rooms that no one but the family used.

The meeting broke shortly thereafter. “Just look at this mess,” Ventura sighed, and placed his head in his hands. Discarded masks and frippery, bits of lace, broken glasses and plates, chunks of food, the odd undergarment—the entire floor was inches deep in the stuff.

“But you made money?” Diego asked.

“Oh yes, lots of it.”

“Then celebrate that! Go out and get drunk. Life's short, start living it, man.”

And he took me home.

Equal conditions. I couldn't get the idea of it out of my head. I'd been beaten in that round by Father Miguel, I just couldn't work out how. That night, I told Diego everything I knew about Pedro Coria and urged him to follow up on this knowledge. Was the priest right? Coria, a double agent? Sent to do what? That was horrifying too, if true.

And of course I worried myself sick about my lover's bravado. This glorious man I'd come to care about so deeply was playing dangerous games for the sake of a blonde, exiled princess who kept producing babies with her guardsman. Diego honestly didn't seem to care about the dangers involved; the more there were, the better he liked it. How could my bravery compare with that? I was bested there, too. “Remember the little princesses, and remember yourself,” I'd tell him; he'd nod absently, stroking his mustache, working out his new, foolproof plan. I lashed out angrily, “At least give me some money then, in case I need to flee!” to which he responded, “I have plenty of money. You know I'll give you whatever you need.” And he told me where he kept it.

I began my new task by asking to meet with Infanta Carlota. I had a great deal of trouble convincing the front line that she might wish to see me. Finally, after a wait of two hours, I was summoned to an inner room. “I haven't got long,” she said, sitting at a writing desk in a voluminous gold-threaded gown, “but I advise you to stop whatever it is Cristina has put in motion.”

I tried to conceal a gasp of surprise. Is that why I'd come, to tell her? I hardly knew, myself, I was so overstrung. But I managed to say nothing.

“I don't even want to know—no,
don't
tell me!” She waved an imperious hand in my direction. “Espartero has had the wind put up him and he's not a man to be trifled with, I warn you.” She was looking exhausted, dark shadows etched under her fine eyes. “Confusion prevails
in the
Cortes,
even before this latest scare. Espartero was a powerful man in the battlefield, but he has no idea how to command a country except through bullying and terror.” I didn't like those words. I liked, even less, to see Carlota glance over her shoulder and lower her voice. “He prefers to spend whole evenings with us, drinking chocolate. He's mad for the stuff. Nobody commands and nobody obeys, in his government; it's a Tower of Babel. He's taken over a wing in the palace—to keep a better eye on things, he says. There's no hope for any of us until he's deposed.”

She looked at me searchingly for a moment, then took my hand and sat me down beside her. “I know you haven't the benefit of my blood nor my wealth, but I have some advice, Rosana Gilbert. Do not let yourself be the pawn of wealthy, powerful men. You must find a way to prevent this. And it will, of necessity, be your
own
way. Find it, follow it, hold steadfastly to it. Or you'll be swept aside in the tide of events, as all women are.” This last point filled her with melancholy, I could see.

“We're returning to our home in Cadiz, leaving tomorrow,” she continued. “I can't abide Madrid with that man in it. And I need rest—my
bastardo
doctor will make me take some terrible muck. Damn it all to hell . . .” She waved her hand again, dismissing me. When I reached the door, she looked at me one last time with those blazing blue eyes. “You have a good heart. Go now.”

I went to find little Luisa Fernanda.

I've never forgotten Carlota's words, and never will. I vow, if I get out of this mess—and I will, I must—I'll set my star by them. No man's pawn, ever again. Find my own way. To America, the land of the free.

Can I bring myself, now, to this final, terrifying place? I must, get it clear in my head, relive it all. To survive.

Diego's plan was ready. It had taken two weeks, and it made me very nervous, but he was convinced that this was the way. Working on many
different fronts, the conspirators (including myself, from an inspired storytelling session I'd had with Infanta Nanda) had discovered four important facts: First, that Espartero had moved his offices into the palace, the scare at the ball providing a good excuse to muscle into the royal's private life. Second, that the royal family had stepped up the security of their forces and there was only one time weekly when the entire regiment of guards was changed. Third, the exact location of the infantas' bedrooms within the enormous palace configuration. And finally, that there was a secret passageway (a priest's hole, Nanda had called it, excitedly) that could be accessed from the paneling on the right hand side of the bottom of the stupendous main staircase.

It was news of the secret passageway that had particularly pleased Diego.

“And where does it come out?”

I told him how Nanda had led me through it, chattering, candle in hand, her wide skirts brushing the narrow sides of the stone walls, collecting dust and cobwebs all over the magnificent silk, which I'd taken pains to clean off before the mess could be noted by a snoopy someone. “The southwest side of the palace, in the oleander garden.” I'd taken particular note of the direction Nanda told me, had scratched it into my palm—SW—to be certain I would not forget or get muddled.

Gathered together as a group, Diego outlined the plan for us: During the hour of the changing of the guard, at midnight, Concha and Diego would enter the palace. As the newly arrived and departing men exchange words and any orders in the regimental office, the infantas would be taken from their bedrooms, down the main staircase, and into the secret passageway, to be met with a carriage waiting at the oleander garden and then swiftly away!

“Shall I go with the princesses? They know me,” I urged, again.

The Jesuit was sneering in the background. I ignored him.

“No, Rosana. I need you to stick with the original task: Take up with Espartero exactly where you left off at the ball. He's at the palace now; he needs to be dealt with, distracted.”

Tears of shock and dismay filled my eyes. The planning continued, buzzing around my ears, as I tried to make sense of Diego's words.

Privately, back in our bedroom, my lover tried to underline his reasoning, but I hit him hard in the chest.

“Why must I do this? Shouldn't I do something else, something more useful? Distracting the guards, or—”

“No,
Bandita.
That would be extremely dangerous. You've asked enough questions on that front. We can't rouse suspicions; you've been very successful and very persistent. Don't you see, you must let that lie now for your own safety. Please believe me.” We hugged each other, hard, and I began to cry against his chest. “As you know,
querida,
what you are to do will be desperate enough. You must bed him, keep him occupied, and then you must flee. As quickly as possible, but not before a certain time has passed.” He kissed my palms, one after the other, and looked into my eyes. “I know it's very difficult, and I'm truly sorry. Try to make yourself look different, another disguise. He's never seen you unmasked?”

“No.” I was shaking.

“You don't want him to recognize you later. Crucial. Keep focused on this, and all will be well. But do not underestimate his ferocity when he finds he's been duped. You must be far away by then.”

I was to approach Espartero in his temporary office at the palace in the late afternoon of February 16. Two days hence.

“We will say a prayer.”

I will do more than that, I thought, but said no more; it was no use trying to stop the behemoth now. Behind the conspirators' haste, I knew, was always the thought—particularly driving Concha—of Cristina, awaiting her children, cursing her loyal and brave men for their delay.

The next day, Saint Valentine's, was my birthday. Diego was with me, and we made love the whole day. And then, for a change of scene, we took a blanket, basket of food, and several bottles of wine and repaired to the stable, to Lindo's stall, freshly strewn with new straw and full of the smells of horse and hay.

Lying together, legs entwined, we smoked one of his thin, sweet South American cigars. I asked him about Matilde. I couldn't help myself.

“She was Concha's woman for several years. I consoled her, one time.”

“And baby Matilde? Is she yours?”

“I think not. Otherwise I'd sense it, I'm sure.” He pushed my hair away from my face, looked into my eyes. “One time, Rosana. She was not the one for me.”

I asked again about the war, how he'd survived it. There had been frightening times, and Diego had gone into hiding for several weeks at one point. He stared into space, then heaved a sigh. “The war is over but not won. I'm a military man, but I never fought so that an arrogant fanatic like Espartero should rule. I believe in kings and queens; I want stability in our country and history on our side. The Infanta Isabel is the rightful heir and she should rule as her family always has—humanely, justly, with God behind her. We must make that possible.”