Redemption of a Fallen Woman (13 page)

‘I’m not going to make excuses, Elena. I should have told you.’

‘So tell me.’

‘When the siege was successful I thought the worst was over—until I saw our own troops run amok. It was as though we were not dealing with men any more but wild animals, made savage and uncontrollable by drink.’

Her eyes glittered. ‘The British troops were indeed like wild animals.’

‘They were impervious to command or reason. They even turned on their own officers.’

‘So I heard.’

‘Half a dozen were killed as a result, including one of my closest friends.’

‘I’m sorry to hear it, but then many terrible deeds were done at that time.’

‘It was the most shameful episode I ever witnessed.’ He paused. ‘Those men were a disgrace to their uniform and to their country. But you know this if anyone does.’

‘Oh, yes, I know it,’ she replied.

‘I am truly sorry about your father, Elena. It was an unspeakable act.’

‘Everything that happened to my family that night was unspeakable.’

Harry frowned. ‘Others were killed too?’

‘Concha’s mother, Amparo—although some might say she was fortunate.’

‘Fortunate?’

‘You know what I mean. After all, my uncle told you what happened, did he not?’

‘He did not mention Concha’s mother. Nor do I see why her death should be regarded as fortunate.’

A dreadful suspicion began to take root in her mind. ‘What exactly did he tell you?’

‘That your father was murdered and that his death was the catalyst for your decision to join the
guerrillas
. In consequence your fiancé ended the engagement between you.’

‘What?’ Elena paled as the significance of that statement sank in, along with the extent of her uncle’s duplicity. Clearly Harry had no idea of the truth. All this time she had fondly imagined that his forbearance about her past had been based on full knowledge. The ramifications of that misapprehension were so enormous that she could not see past them. She didn’t know if there
was
a way past them.

‘Did he leave something out?’

‘Only the truth,’ she replied.

Harry’s gaze grew piercing. ‘I think you’d better tell me, don’t you?’

Elena’s stomach knotted as anger mingled with dread. At the same time she knew this had to be faced even if the consequences meant disaster. There had been enough lies. ‘All right, but I warn you, it isn’t pleasant.’

‘So I infer. Nevertheless, let’s have it.’

‘The British soldiers broke into our house and when my father tried to stop them they shot him. When Amparo went to his aid they shot her too.’

A muscle jumped in Harry’s cheek but all the words he wanted to utter would have sounded like mere platitudes. Besides, Elena was no longer looking at him but inward, remembering.

‘Then they came after the rest of us—my sisters and me, the women servants. We attempted to flee but it was too late.’ She swallowed hard. ‘We tried to fight them off but they were too many and too strong. They stripped us and then held us down while they took it in turn to have their will.’

Harry’s face went white. ‘Elena, you don’t have to...’

‘I think I do. After all, we’re being honest, no?’

He winced inwardly but made no reply.

‘I don’t know how long it went on,’ she continued. ‘It seemed like a lifetime. Eventually I lost consciousness. When I came round the soldiers were gone and so was everything of value in the house. The place looked as though a hurricane had swept through it. Every part of me hurt and I was covered in cuts and bruises, but I was alive. Miraculously my sisters had also survived, though at that point we wished that we had not.’

‘I wish that I had been able to stop it,’ he replied. ‘I wish that there was something I could say now to take away your pain, but I know very well that there isn’t.’

‘Nothing can erase the pain of that memory, of seeing my sisters’ despair and shame, of sharing those emotions.’ She drew a long, shuddering breath. ‘I remember that what I wanted most of all was to bathe, as though somehow I could wash away the memory along with the filth. I went to the well in the yard and pulled up bucket after bucket of water and scrubbed myself repeatedly, but it didn’t seem to make much difference.’

Harry’s gut knotted. He didn’t know which was stronger, fury or contempt for the perpetrators of that outrage. At that moment he felt ashamed to be a man.

‘My sisters’ sole wish was to shun the world and retreat to a convent. Mine was to leave Badajoz and join the
guerrillas
. Since the war had found me I decided to confront it, but not as a victim this time—never again as a victim.’ She paused. ‘Concha was of the same mind. Since she had suffered the same degradation as I, she understood what I was doing and why.’

‘Concha too?’

‘None of the women in our house were spared that night,’ she replied.

‘Dear God.’

‘After that, marriage was out of the question. Even if my betrothed had wished to honour the pledge, I could not have gone through with it. The very idea of a man touching me was anathema.’ She smiled with unwonted bitterness. ‘I shot the first one to try. It was just a crease to the arm, but it sufficed. After that the rest kept their distance.’

‘I imagine they did.’

‘For a long time I didn’t care whether I lived or died so I volunteered for all the most dangerous missions. I never got so much as a scratch.’ She shook her head. ‘The men came to believe I bore a charmed life and that any action I was involved in must be successful. They would go wherever I led them. As time went on though, the risks became more calculated. I knew I’d survived the worst and, at some point, without being aware of it, I must have decided that I wanted to go on living.’

‘I’m glad you did.’

‘After the war I retired to a small family estate in the country, thinking to live there quietly. Unfortunately my uncle got wind of it. He came to see me and to point out my duty.’

‘The convent, I collect.’

‘Just so. We had a fierce argument and he left. I thought that was the end of the matter, but he returned a week later with a large group of armed retainers.’

‘I believe I met them.’

‘Indeed you did.’ Her jaw tightened. ‘I protested as far as I could, but in the end I was compelled to go with him to Madrid. The rest you know.’

Harry felt winded. He couldn’t begin to imagine the horror of what she had endured, or the kind of courage it must have required to get up and fight back. The very people who should have provided support had cast her out. Nor had her uncle paid any heed to her feelings when he’d compelled her to marry. It hadn’t concerned him one iota that he was effectively forcing her into a stranger’s bed. Marriage got her off his hands and lent the whole business a spurious respectability. Quite possibly the pious old hypocrite relished the thought of Elena being returned to a man’s control and subjected to his will. Recalling his former lustful thoughts Harry was ashamed and sickened. Almost as bad was his failure to be honest with her.

For once Elena had no trouble reading his expression, and her heart sank. He was disgusted all right, and yet she could not regret telling him the truth. There had been enough pretence. Now he knew who she was and what she was. She could not blame him for his reaction, nor had she expected it to hurt quite as much.

‘I should have told you about Badajoz,’ he said.

‘Yes, you should.’

‘I wish that I had.’

‘So do I. I also wish that my uncle had been frank with you.’

‘It would have saved a lot of misunderstanding.’

‘Well, at least we’re no longer at cross-purposes.’ She rose from her chair. ‘If you would excuse me I think I’d like a little time to myself.’

‘Of course.’ He wasn’t in the least surprised that she should wish to be out of his company for a while. The very thought must be unpalatable now. ‘We’ll talk later.’

His gaze followed her to the door. When it closed behind her what remained was a powerful sense of sadness and loss.

Chapter Fourteen

E
lena didn’t return to the chamber she shared with Harry. The thought was intolerable just then. Feeling a great need for fresh air and open space she made her way instead to the garden behind the inn. It was walled and, thanks to a number of fruit trees between it and the buildings, relatively private. Elena paced about for a while, trying and failing to collect her thoughts amid roiling emotion. Eventually she gave it up and flung herself down on a bench beneath a tall walnut tree.

Concha found her there some time later. Having looked in all the usual places and failed to find her mistress, she guessed that Elena might have gone outside. She always preferred to be outdoors, especially on so fine a day. However, one look at her face was enough to reveal that she hadn’t just come out here for the sunshine. Concha sat down beside her, regarding her in concern.

‘What is it, Doña Elena? What has happened?’

Elena drew in a shuddering breath. ‘I told him the truth.’

‘The truth?’

‘About Badajoz.’

For a moment Concha was silent. Then, with careful and deliberate calm, she said, ‘Everything?’

‘Yes, everything.’

‘Dios mio.’

‘You think I’m mad.’

‘I think you must have had your reasons.’

Elena shrugged. ‘My uncle had already given him the bones of the story. I just related my version.’

‘And he did not take it well.’

‘He took it as one might expect.’

‘I see.’

‘He may have suspected before that I was soiled goods, now I have confirmed it.’

Concha regarded her with alarm. ‘He has not repudiated your marriage?’

‘No, but he could not conceal his disgust.’ Elena sighed. ‘Matters had been going on so well between us and now I’ve ruined everything.’

‘What could have induced you to rake up the past?’

‘Harry was there. At Badajoz. He told me.’

‘What!’

‘He was an officer in the British army. He took part in the siege but he was not among those who ran riot. He said he tried to stop them.’

‘It may be so,’ replied Concha. ‘Unfortunately nothing short of cannon could have stopped that mob.’

Elena nodded. ‘I know. It’s just that I was shocked to learn that he had been involved at all. He should have told me.’

‘Yes, he should but perhaps he feared to.’

‘These are fearful subjects but it doesn’t mean we should run away from them. Running away solves nothing. It has taken me long enough to learn that.’

‘I know, and you’re right, of course.’

‘I was angry with him.’

‘That’s hardly surprising.’

‘As soon as he mentioned the place it all came back and suddenly I wanted him to hear my version of events.’

‘Well, that is understandable.’

‘I wanted to shock him and I succeeded. I saw it in his face.’

‘I’ll wager you did.’

Elena sighed. ‘We were not the only ones to suffer, Concha. He lost his fiancée. She burned to death when the looters set fire to the house.’

‘
Madre de Dios
. What evil deeds were done then! But if His Lordship knows all this he will surely sympathise with your situation. He cannot blame you for something that was not your fault.’

‘He did not blame me,’ said Elena. ‘Nor could he conceal his distaste. Perhaps I should have let sleeping dogs lie.’

‘Sooner or later it was going to come out. If not it would only have festered between you like an abscess.’

‘But now the poison is uncontained.’

‘At least it has a chance to drain.’

‘I hope it may.’

Concha regarded her shrewdly. ‘You care for him, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I care for him, but I have to be able to trust him.’

‘He made a mistake in not telling you about Badajoz before, but that does not mean he is untrustworthy.’

‘There is such a thing as lying by omission.’

‘I cannot believe he intended it thus. It contradicts all the rest of his behaviour towards you.’ Concha eyed her steadily. ‘I truly believe he cares for you.’

‘I thought he did but now...’

‘Badajoz is emotional gunpowder and he did not handle it wisely.’

Elena sighed. ‘Perhaps I am the one who did not handle it wisely.’

‘A frank discussion does not destroy true affection,’ said Concha. ‘If he is the man I believe him to be he will not think less of you for it.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

Concha looked thoughtful. ‘You realise there is another witness to the events at Badajoz?’

‘Another?’

‘Jack Hawkes was in your husband’s regiment.’

As the ramifications of that statement sank in Elena was suddenly still. ‘Of course.’

‘It is most likely that he knows what happened to his master at that time.’

‘He may not wish to speak of it.’

‘If you don’t ask you’ll never know, will you?’

Elena pondered the matter for some time. It was not quite as straightforward as Concha had suggested. For a start the emotion was too raw. Secondly, she didn’t want to go behind Harry’s back, and thirdly, if Jack had been told not to speak of the matter he would not break his master’s confidence. In spite of Harry’s admission she was sure there were other things he was not telling her. No doubt he had his reasons for that, but his reticence hurt. Possibly he had been too shocked by her revelations. Concha was right: he could have repudiated the marriage on such grounds. Most men would have. A wife was expected to be pure. What men did was one thing. Women’s behaviour was quite another and society was swift to punish perceived transgressions. Her relatives were evidence enough of that. She had thought Harry different. Of course, she had believed he had known what she was before they married. Her uncle was much to blame in that. The truth was unpalatable but it had needed to come out. Until the whole business was out in the open they could not address it.

She knew that she did want a future with Harry, that she liked him more than any man she had ever met. With him she felt truly alive. She had thought that if any man could help her overcome the past it would be him, that perhaps in his bed all evil might be eradicated. However, even before this latest debacle he seemed to have no wish to pursue that side of their marriage. Once upon a time his restraint had been a source of relief. Now it was fast becoming a source of hurt. It also marked a fundamental shift in her thinking that had crept up unnoticed. This latest revelation turned everything on its head. She had no idea where they would go from here.

When they dined together that evening he made no reference to the earlier discussion. Conversation was restricted to neutral topics. His manners were polished and courteous in every way, but the ease they had shared before was missing. It hurt much more than downright coldness would have done. The only thing to do was to follow his lead so she took refuge in correctness. Her appetite had vanished, but for the sake of form she forced herself to eat a little. Eventually the strain became too great and, after a suitable interval, she pleaded fatigue and excused herself, saying she would retire early. He rose at once but made no comment other than to bid her a goodnight. Sick at heart Elena made her escape.

When she had gone Harry sank back into his chair and tossed back the remainder of his wine. As soon as she was gone he had wanted to call her back but had no idea what he might say if he did. His mind was still reeling. The magnitude of his error was colossal, but even worse was the knowledge of what Elena had suffered. Her pain and her vulnerability touched him more deeply than anything else could. It was his part to keep her from hurt, not add to it. Once again he was proving to be abysmal in the role of protector.

It was much later before he came to bed. Elena didn’t stir. No doubt she had been asleep for hours, worn out by the vicissitudes of the day. He placed the candle down on the table across the room so that the light wouldn’t fall directly onto the bed and possibly disturb her. Then he began to undress.

In fact, Elena was very far from sleep but, unwilling to reveal it, she remained still and kept her eyes closed. Even so her entire being was attuned to his presence. She heard him undress and felt the familiar movement of the mattress as he climbed in beside her. She held her breath, hoping that he might reach out for her, hold her, that there might be mutual forgiveness and things could go back to the way they were before. However, he made no move to touch her. She bit her lip, telling herself not to be stupid. Of course he wasn’t going to touch her. Why would he? The thought must be anathema to him. She had handled everything so badly and now had no idea how to put it right. It crossed her mind to reach out and touch him, but she had never done such a thing before. Under ordinary circumstances it would have been a bold move, but after all that had passed between them might it not seem positively brazen? If he were to reject her she didn’t think she could bear it. The very thought of such a humiliation made her cringe inside. Tears pricked her eyelids. She lacked the necessary courage; in fact, she was lacking as a wife in every respect. She wasn’t a real woman. She would never be a real woman again.

* * *

As a consequence of the emotional upheaval the subject of the ball had been temporarily forgotten. It was resurrected the following afternoon when the gown was delivered. Elena eyed the box dispassionately.

‘I wish to goodness there were some way of getting out of the engagement.’

Concha shook her head. ‘I think you cannot, not without angering your husband further.’

‘You’re right. The only thing now is to put a brave face on the matter, but I never felt less like socialising in my life.’

‘It’s only for one night. Besides, it will provide a distraction.’ Concha eyed the box on the table. ‘Shall we have a look inside?’

‘Why not?’

The maid removed the lid and then carefully pulled aside a layer of tissue paper. Then her eyes widened. ‘Oh, my! This must have cost the earth.’

Almost reverently she lifted the dress from the box and unfolded it before holding it up for inspection. In spite of herself Elena could not refrain from uttering a gasp of delight.

‘It’s exquisite.’

Made of white silk jacquard it had puff sleeves and a low square neckline, with a fan of pleats below the bust. Below it the skirt fell away in smooth straight lines. Fine gold braid added the finishing touch to the bodice, caught in under the bosom and edging the neck and sleeves. It was a simple but elegant creation. Long gloves and a lace fan completed the ensemble along with a silken wrap.

‘Try it on,’ said Concha.

‘All right.’

Elena took off her muslin dress and allowed Concha to help her into the ball gown. Then she crossed to the cheval glass, surveying her reflection critically. The woman who stared back was almost a stranger.

‘I’ve had some pretty dresses in the past,’ she said, ‘but never anything as fine as this.’

‘You look like a princess.’

‘Thank you.’ Elena turned, examining the gown from different angles. ‘It does look well, doesn’t it?’

‘I think you will draw all eyes.’

There was only one pair of eyes that Elena wished to draw. Having made her a most generous gift, would Harry approve the result? There was only one way to find out. Her gaze met Concha’s in the glass.

‘I think I should start getting ready.’

The maid nodded. ‘I’ve already requested hot water for your bath.’

When Elena had bathed she sat at the dressing table while her hair was arranged in a stylish knot. Soft curls framed her face. Two judiciously placed silver combs completed the effect. Then she applied a light touch of colour to her cheeks and lips before donning the gown. It fitted to perfection and, as she had envisaged, flattered the line of her figure and enhanced its curves. She turned this way and that before the mirror, studying the effect with a critical eye. Then she nodded.

‘It looks well.’

Concha smiled. ‘You look beautiful. You’ll break a few hearts tonight, Doña Elena.’

Elena reflected sadly that there was only one heart that interested her now. Whether it was in her power to capture it was another matter. She slid her feet into white satin slippers and dabbed on some perfume before looping the fan over her wrist. Then she glanced at the clock.

‘It’s time to go.’ She gave Concha’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘I imagine we’ll be late back so don’t wait up.’

‘Have a wonderful evening.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

With that Elena summoned up the remains of courage and went to the parlour to look for Harry.

Having a shrewd idea of the length and complexity of the female toilette on such occasions, Harry had tactfully organised a separate room in which to get ready for the ball. He had bathed and then shaved. In the meantime, Jack had performed wonders with creased clothing so that no wrinkle now marred the elegant costume. A critical look in the mirror confirmed that it would pass muster. Then, having readied himself, Harry retreated to the parlour to wait.

In a part of his mind he wondered whether he hadn’t made a grave mistake in committing himself and Elena to this event. Yet, in spite of everything, he found himself looking forward to dancing with her. Whether she would feel the same was another matter. Since that fateful conversation they had been almost like strangers, behaving towards each other with cool civility. He didn’t intend to let it become a habit.

Hearing the door open, he turned round, anticipating Elena’s arrival. What he hadn’t anticipated was the effect it might have. In spite of the weeks they had been together it was like seeing her for the first time. For a moment or two he could only stare, and his tongue seemed to have lost contact with his brain. With an effort he recovered himself.

‘You look stunning.’ Immediately he thought the words sounded lame. She was gorgeous and he knew that every other man present tonight was going to think so too. For an instant Villanueva’s image impinged on his thoughts. He pushed it aside. Others could look their fill, but she belonged to him. The realisation made him feel both proud and protective.

There could be no doubting the sincerity of his initial response to her entrance. Feeling a little more encouraged, Elena turned slowly to let him see the new gown to full advantage.