The Golden Madonna (12 page)

'I know you did.' Dona Alicia took his hands in hers, her eyes gentle. She obviously doted on her only son, and for a moment Sally pitied her if Miguel ever did marry his cousin's widow. The two women were so completely unalike, and with Ines Valdaquez as mistress at the Casa de Principes, Dona Alicia's life would be much less pleasant than it was now. 'I have been telling Sarita that she reminds me of my mother,' she said, and Don Miguel frowned.

'I cannot agree,' he stated with certainty. 'There is no resemblance at all,
madre.'

'But I can see Mama in so many things that Sarita does, so many things she likes and dislikes, and I think I can claim to have known her rather better than you did,
amado.'
She spoke softly, but Sally realised with a start she could be as adamant as her son, when she was convinced of her right.

Again the black gaze turned on Sally, a steady, almost clinical gaze that sent a shiver right down from her spine to the soles of her feet. 'I can think of one point of similarity,' he said after a moment, and a small, cruel-looking smile curved his straight mouth briefly as he looked at her. 'Abuela Cordova was also squeamish about the
corrida.'

Sally felt the colour flood into her cheeks at the softly spoken jibe. If Dona Alicia had understood and allowed for her dislike of the national sport, her son would be far less tolerant. It is a matter of taste, Don Miguel,' she told him, appalled to find how shaky her voice sounded when she spoke. 'I'm glad I have that much at least in common with Dona Alicia's mother. She must have been a very nice lady.'

'Nice!'
He put enough scorn in the retort to shrivel a less resilient spirit than Sally's. 'Apart from that one thing, she had fire and spirit. My grandfather would never have married her otherwise—he was a thorough Spaniard, and had no taste for pallid creatures I'
^x
'Miguel!'

Dona Alicia's voice brought him up sharply, and after a second, he bobbed a brief, very formal bow in.Sally's direction, his stern-looking face more harsh than she had ever seen it. 'I apologise, Miss Beckett,' he said. 'Yet again I am having to apologise to you for being discourteous. Please excuse me,
Madre.'
He bobbed his head politely to his mother and strode across the
patio
to the house.

Dona Alicia watched him go without a word, while Sally fought to control that inevitable clamour in her heart that even his anger could arouse. She thought the older woman was more startled than she was herself at his outburst, and wondered what she thought was the cause of it.

They sat there for a long moment in silence, after he had gone, then Dona Alicia turned and looked at Sally, her blue eyes curious, a tiny frown between her brows. 'I am at a loss for words, Sarita,' she said in her quiet voice. 'How can I explain Miguel's behaviour? I have never seen him behave so before; his manner was unpardonable.'

'Please, Dona Alicia!' Sally put a consoling hand on her arm, her eyes downcast so that she should not see what she was afraid her eyes revealed. That his deliberate and calculated contempt had hurt her far more than she would have believed possible. 'Please don't trouble yourself about it,' she begged softly.

I—I don't take much notice of Don Miguel's opinion of me.' She laughed, a little shakily it was true, but at least it should dismiss any idea that it mattered one way or the other to her what Miguel Cordova thought of her. 'I'm afraid I started off on the wrong foot,' she added, 'by arriving on my own with a party of young men. Your conventions are somewhat more strict than ours in England, I believe.'

'They are,' Dona Alicia agreed. 'But that does not excuse my son behaving as he does towards yeu.' The gentle blue eyes looked at her for a moment, then she shook her head. 'I can see now why it is you have had no more than one private lesson with him,' she said. 'You could not be expected to tolerate such discourteous treatment with no one else there to protect you.'

'It wasn't because' Sally bit on her lip hard.

In those three words she had probably betrayed more than she wanted to, indeed Dona Alicia's eyes were already looking at her with a certain shrewdness.

'It is no concern of mine, of course,' she said quietly. 'But if you could find it in your heart to forgive Miguel for the way he has behaved towards you, I am sure he would be grateful for the opportunity to resume your tuition.'

'Oh no!' Sally was shaking her head firmly, her golden fair hair swinging about her face. 'No, I couldn't do that, Dona Alicia!'

'And Miguel's Golden Madonna?' the soft voice asked gently. 'Will you not allow him to do that? It is important to him, I think, Sarita.'

'Surely not!' Her heart was thudding heavily at her ribs and even though she had her hands held tightly together on her lap, they trembled. How could she sit for him, when every time he spoke to her he either scorned her or seduced her? She was never sure enough of either herself or of him to spend all those hours alone up there in the studio with him. 'No, Dona Alicia, I couldn't do it!'

'Not even if I sat with you?' Dona Alicia suggested softly, and Sally stared at her for a moment, wide-eyed.

'You?' she asked. 'You sit with me, Dona Alicia? But you'

'It is important to Miguel, this idea,' Dona Alicia told her, almost as if she was begging for a favour. 'I know him, Sarita. I know my son better than anyone else does, and I know how important it is to him to paint this picture he has set his heart on. He will not beg you to do it, but I am doing it on his behalf.'

Sally sat there with her hands in her lap, her head bent, the exotic fragrances of the garden all around her, fighting an almost overwhelming desire to see her own portrait set on the easel where Ines Valdaquez's had been. She had not realised how serious he had been about the painting when he had spoken of it that evening, but now Dona Alicia was prepared to spend hours sitting with her in the studio, if only she would consent to be his model.

'If you think it's important to him,' she said at last, and Dona Alicia's smile answered her.

'You will do it!' she said with certainty, and added a few, whispered words in Spanish.

Sally looked up at last and smiled, her eyes curious as she questioned the older woman. 'I—I would like to know why it's so important to him, Dona Alicia,' she said.

For a moment Dona Alicia merely smiled, then she put a hand on Sally's, hesitating as if seeking the right words to explain. 'I have not presumed to ask your faith, Sarita, but I think you are not of our I faith, since you have not attended our church while you have been here.'

Sally shrugged, her smile uncertain. 'I'm—I'm just a vague sort of Christian, Dona Alicia,' she confessed. I'm afraid England abounds with them.'

The vague hint of apology was politely ignored, and the gentle hand still covered hers as she spoke. 'The church here in San Gregorio was badly damaged during the civil war, Sarita. The Iglesia de la Virgen Dorada is now completely rebuilt, but for one thing. Miguel is to paint a picture for the church, it has been promised, although as yet he has not begun it.'

'Oh, I see.'

'You understand?' Dona Alicia asked softly. It is a very important work, Sarita. Our church is a rich one and every part of it must be as beautiful as the one which was destroyed. Miguel's Madonna will be a part of something that could last for another thousand years. It is very important to him.'

'I can see that,' Sally agreed, although she felt a certain disappointment that the painting was not for his own personal satisfaction and pleasure. 'The Iglesia de' She attempted the unfamiliar Spanish words, and smiled at her own failure. 'What does it mean exactly, Dona Alicia?'

'Iglesia de la Virgen Dorada,' Dona Alicia told her with a smile. 'Church of the Golden Virgin, so you see how right you are for the painting, Sarita?

A Golden Madonna.'

'Yes, I can understand that,' Sally agreed, and after a moment, looked at the older woman and smiled. 'Very well, Dona Alicia, I'll sit for Don Miguel, if he still wants me to.'

'Oh, he does,
nina,
please believe me about that.'

'I do,' Sally said with a smile. 'I also believe he would never have asked me himself—not again.'

The comforting hand patted hers gently, and Dona Alicia's blue eyes smiled at her with understanding. 'I will not ask why that is so, Sarita, but you will find my son grateful, I promise you that.'

'I never knew you were keen on old churches, darling,' Michael told her when Sally asked to be taken down into the village to see the church, and she smiled.

'You don't have to come if you'd rather not,' she said. 'I just hapen to be interested in the Iglesia de la Virgen Dorada, that's all, and I want to go and see it.'

Her glib pronunciation of the Spanish words surprised him, and puzzled him too, Sally could see that, for he could not know what long moments of practice that perfection had cost her. 'You've got that off pat,' he remarked. 'Who's been coaching you?'

She smiled. 'Dona Alicia,' she said. 'She's been telling me about the church and how it's been rebuilt after it was destroyed during the civil war.'

'Oh yes?' He took her arm and turned her towards the
patio
gates. 'Well, shall we go, then?'

'Not like this,' Sally told him. 'I'll have to go and change into a dress with sleeves and find something to cover my head.'

Michael sighed deeply and flopped himself down on to the only spare foot of space on the low wall surrounding the fountain that was not overflowing with flowers. 'O.K., but don't take all day,' he told her. 'It's a pretty long walk down there, you know.'

She laughed at his complaint and hurried across the
patio
to change into something more suitable. She had mentioned a visit to the church to Dona Alicia earlier that morning, and been advised that a dress that covered her arms and a covering for her head would be necessary because, unlike some of the more tourist-geared places in Spain, San Gregorio required women to conform to certain standards when in church.

She chose a dress that she had not expected to wear very often in the bright Spanish sun, but it was not too uncomfortable when she put it on. Dark green nylon nestled softly under her chin when she tied the bow at her throat and long transparent sleeves looked cool over the creamy skin of her arms. What to wear on her head was another matter, for she had only a bright, rather garish yellow scarf with huge red flowers, and that hardly looked suitable for churchgoing.

It was the only thing she had, however, so she picked it up with a grimace for its colour and went out on to the landing. She was already at the head of the stairs when Dona Alicia's voice called after her, and she turned hastily in answer.

The older woman was coming towards her, something in her hand that was soft and black, and Sally smiled at her enquiringly. 'You will need something for your head, Sarita,' she said to her. 'Have you something suitable ?'

'Not very, I'm afraid,' Sally admitted, holding out the brightly coloured scarf for inspection. 'It's a bit garish, but it's all I have.'

'It's very pretty,' Dona Alicia told her with a smile. 'But I think perhaps you will find this more suited for the church, my dear. Have you ever worn a
mantilla?'

Sally shook her head, holding the black lace as if she feared it might fall apart in her hand. 'But this is a beautiful thing, Dona Alicia. Aren't you afraid of my losing it, or spoiling it?'

'Oh course not!' She took the lace and draped it gently and expertly over Sally's golden fair hair, the soft points of the border falling on her cheeks at either side. 'You look quite beautiful,' she said softly. 'Just as Miguel's Madonna should look.'

'I actually
feel
beautiful,' Sally confessed with a soft laugh. 'I've always rather envied the Spanish ladies their
mantillas.'

She carefully gave the word its Spanish accent, but even so Dona Alicia smiled and shook her head.
'Mantilla,
Sarita,' she said correctly. 'By putting on the "s" at the end, you change the whole meaning of the word.'

'Oh! Oh, I'm sorry.'

'There is no need to be sorry,' Dona Alicia assured her kindly. 'But since you were showing some interest in using the Spanish pronunciation, I would have been remiss not to correct you.'

'Thank you.'

The kindly blue eyes smiled at her curiously. 'Are you going to visit the church alone?' she asked, and Sally shook her head.

'Oh no, I daren't do that,' she said, without thinking, and saw Dona Alicia's dark brows question her meaning. 'I mean,' she added hastily, 'I've been warned not to go down to the village alone.'

'Not by Mr. Storer, I think,' Dona Alicia guessed with a smile. 'He would not warn you, I'm sure. Your wording suggests that it was my son who— warned you, Sarita. Am I right?'

Sally nodded her head, smiling ruefully. 'I have been threatened with being locked in my room and sent home,' she said, being very frank. 'So I'm going with Michael to see the church.'

'Is he, too, interested in old churches, or rebuilt ones?' Dona Alicia asked, as if she already knew the answer, and Sally shook her head.

'Not really,' she said. 'But he's ready to suffer on my account.'

'He loves you.' The statement was so simple and matter-of-fact that it touched Sally deeply, and she nodded.

'He says he does,' she admitted. 'But'

'You are very young,' Dona Alicia told her softly.

'Let yourself live a little first, Sarita, before you decide. And now,' she patted her hand, 'you should hurry before even Mr. Storer's patience is tried too sorely.'

Michael was indeed impatient when she joined him again in the garden, and he looked at her darker dress and the
mantilla
with some misgiving, although both suited her admirably. 'You look a bit keep-off-the-grass in that outfit,' he declared when she spun round for his approval. 'But it has a certain spiritual look that should go down well in the village church.'

'I feel rather good,' Sally informed him, smoothing a hand over the black lace that covered her fair head. 'And I don't mean in the way you do either, Michael. I think it's the effect of the
mantilla,
it's beautiful, isn't it?'