THE ESCORIAL

DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks still owns the copyrights, but we are telling their real stories
RATING: G
FEEDBACK/BETA: yes, please
NOTE: the inspiration for this vignette comes from a conversation with Eliza who has inspired me many times over the past months. Thanks, Eliza.

This started as challenge responses and has a few in them, but has taken on a life of it's own. As Maril writes more, be they challenge responses or just another part, I will keep updating this file.

~~~~~
1813 - MADRID

"Marta, I"m scared. I don't want to go." Tessa sat on the edge of her bed as Marta looked critically over the gowns in the wardrobe. Squaring her shoulders and drawing in a deep breath, Marta turned to face the young girl.

"You do not have any choice, Tessa. You have been summoned to the Royal Court. You cannot refuse." Trying to put a brave face on it, she continued, "It will be so glamourous ...all those nobles, all those parties, and being so close to the King and Queen. I am sure you will enjoy your time at Court."

Tessa's dark eyes narrowed as she gazed fixedly at Marta. "You've never lied to me before, Marta. Don't start now. You know I'll hate it, every minute of it," she said harshly. Tessa arose from her bed and began to pace in agitation. "Maybe we could say I have something contagious, or that I left the country. Why don't we just run away and stay with your people?" She searched Marta's face as if looking for some elusive chance of escaping this fate which the letter from the Royal Court had thrust upon her.

The forlorn hope in her voice stabbed Marta to the heart. She did not want her Tessa, only eighteen years old, among those decadent and immoral people that she had heard the servants whisper about. Tessa was strong-willed, but impetuous and impressionable. How long until she succumbed to the influences that would surround her daily? Was she strong enough to resist the pleasures and temptations that could so easily seduce the innocent? Marta had instilled in Tessa many lessons on morals and ethics during their time together. Now that knowledge would be put to the test. 'Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers,' she thought hopefully.

"I will be with you, Tessa," Marta added at last. "And it may not be for long. The King and Queen may decide to spend their summer near Barcelona, and then you will be free to leave. Or so I have heard."

"What do you know about it, Marta? The gossip of servants? What do they know? Have they ever been to the Escorial?" Tessa demanded indignantly. A long-suffering sigh escaped her as she dropped once more onto her bed and held her head in her hands. "If only Papa had taken me back to California, I wouldn't have to do this."

Marta turned away to hide her expression. She did not blame Don Rafael for this turn of events; she blamed his brother, Don Alejandro. A favourite of the King of Spain, it seemed only natural that the young don would want his niece to be introduced at Court. Such splendid connections for her, such an opportunity to mix with the right sort of people. Marta shook her head sombrely. Such an opportunity to become like them and lose her innocence. Her stomach clenched at the thought that they must present themselves in three days with all their baggage, prepared for as long a stay as the royal couple demanded.

~~~~~

The reception line seemed endless as Tessa moved forward gradually toward the King and Queen of Spain. The air in the colourful salon was filled with chatter and noise. The excitement was almost palpable as the new season at Court got underway with an influx of debutantes like Tessa filling the long queue, waiting to be presented to their monarchs. Her uncle stood beside her, occasionally beaming a fond smile at her as she quaked with nervousness. Now and then, he pressed her arm for reassurance.

Tessa searched the crowd at the end of the hall for Marta. She saw her in the midst of the servants and smiled half-heartedly then turned as the line inched forward.

Finally, they were next to be presented. Tessa's mouth was dry from trepidation. She was wearing the pink organza dress that Marta had picked out for her. Tessa suspected it was to make her look younger and more ingenuous. She nearly smiled at this thought as she swallowed and tried to moisten her parched throat.

The King sat on his ancient throne, resplendent in his royal robes. Through bored heavy-lidded eyes he watched the procession of young men and women parade past, no doubt forgetting their names immediately. Next to him, the Queen posed, equally elegant in her royal finery, regarding everything with a keen eye as each person was introduced. Tessa had a feeling she forgot nothing.

Her uncle said, "May I present to Your Majesties, my niece, Doña Maria Teresa Alvarado of Alta California." He gave her a subtle nudge to move in front of the royal couple. Tessa curtseyed, lowering her eyes.

"Such a lovely dress, and such a fair señorita wearing it. If I had known they grew such beauty in California, I would have gone there myself" King Ferdinand said. He guffawed loudly like the neighing of a horse and his courtiers laughed with him. The Queen's face stiffened and she gave Tessa a haughty look.

"Tell me, Doña Maria Teresa, are you betrothed? I have no doubt, there are many young admirers here already who love to snap you up." He gestured broadly around the salon.

Tessa lifted her chin and replied pertly, "Perhaps I have no wish to be snapped up, Your Majesty." She closed her mouth quickly, her cheeks heating as she watched the King's eyebrows shoot up.

For a long moment there was silence, then the King laughed again. "Such impudence they learn in the colonies. We will make it our business to see that no one snaps you up, my dear." His gaze moved past her to the next in line and she felt dismissed. 'Maybe,' she hoped, 'I have displeased him and he will send me away.'

Beside her, Uncle Alejandro tightened his grip on her arm to lead her to a more private spot, away from the clamour near the King and Queen. His face was tight with anger, as he leaned down to whisper harshly in her ear, "What were you thinking, Tessa, to speak to the King that way? This is no way to begin at Court. You will have to try harder to make yourself agreeable to their Majesties."

"Uncle, I did not want to be here in the first place. I just want to go home."

The shock on his face caused Tessa to lower her gaze. He could not understand that she did not value making connections at Court, or being among the favourites of the King and Queen. She only wanted to go back to California. Why must he insist on this when she did not want it?

Alejandro suddenly glanced at the King, and he groaned quietly. The King was beckoning to him. Her uncle looked her sternly in the eyes, and said, "Remain here and stay out of trouble. I must see what His Majesty wants." With that he threaded his way through the elegant crowd to the King's side.

Tessa watched her uncle lean toward the King, then cringed inwardly as they both glanced directly at her. The urge to flee nearly overcame her as she looked around, but her escape would be noticed if she tried to make it to the exit at the far end of the long salon. How she wished she was anywhere but here.

"If you are going through Hell, keep on going," a voice behind her said.

Tessa turned to gaze into a grinning, handsome face. A tall young man clad in a military tunic smiled down at her, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"I heard what you said to the King," he laughed. "You were not being impudent, His Majesty was. Brava. You will do well here at Court as long as you remain yourself."

Alejandro returned and the young man bowed briefly to him and moved toward a large group of young people collected near the frescoed walls of the salon. Tessa watched him as he strode with athletic grace to greet his friends.

Her uncle took her arm to lead her down the salon to where Marta was waiting. Tessa felt butterflies in her stomach as she waited for him to tell her what the King had said.

Finally, he stopped and said, "The King was amused by your remark and your spirit. Her Majesty invites you to join her royal coterie as a lady-in-waiting." He grinned proudly as he conveyed this marvellous news.

Tessa's heart sank. She pasted a false smile on her face as she glanced toward the royal couple, and curtseyed politely. "How long am I to remain with the Queen?" she asked, forcing some heartiness into her voice. It seemed like a jail sentence to her, rather than a privilege.

"A year, more or less ...until the next crop of debutantes are presented. Tessa!" Alejandro said enthusiastically, "This is your best chance to meet someone suitable and make a good marriage. With your father away in California, it is my duty to see that his wishes are carried out. He wants you to marry before you return to California as he says there are few eligible men there and not much choice for you. We are only thinking of your future happiness, mi querida." He lifted her hand and kissed it fondly.

He pointed toward a group of young woman standing a short distance from the Queen's throne. "Those are her ladies-in-waiting. They will help you settle into your new surroundings. You must go and join them." He nodded to Marta, and gave Tessa a kiss on the cheek and a slight push toward the group.

Tessa clutched Marta's arm as they took their leave of her uncle and walked slowly together toward her new life at the Spanish Court.

~~~~~

PART TWO
DRAMATIS PERSONNAE

~~~~~

The room was stifling, airless, and Tessa felt her eyelids drooping as one of the ladies-in-waiting droned on in a monotone, reading to the Queen from a novel. Tessa's head snapped up when she heard her name called.

"Maria Teresa," the Queen said sharply. "You will read us the next chapter."

The young woman who had been reading gave Tessa a look of relief as she handed over the large leather-bound book. It was written in French. The previous reader, Juliana, pointed to the paragraph where she had left off. Tessa felt a moment of panic. It had been years since her French tutor had drilled the pronunciations of that language into her head. He had fled back to France during the war leaving Tessa to struggle on her own. She had abandoned the difficult tongue, preferring to learn the Romani language of the gitano from Marta.

Tessa inhaled deeply to calm herself and began, haltingly at first, then with more confidence as the language came back to her. Her cheeks suddenly flushed as she realized she was starting to read a long narrative which described, in very graphic detail, a couple making love. She decided to skip over that section and moved on to the next page.

"You have missed a part, Maria Teresa," the Queen said, a smirk on her thin rouged lips. "If you leave parts out, you spoil the story." Several titters from the other young woman accompanied this remark causing Tessa to suspect she was being used for the Queen's amusement.

Her cheeks grew hotter as she went back to the descriptive sexual scene and tried to read without stumbling over the words. Never in her life had she read anything like this! She could not imagine anyone putting these words on paper for others to read. Tessa thought in relief it was lucky that Marta was not in the room. What would she say? A quick glance at the Queen and the others showed they were enjoying the vivid, sensual images. Or was it just her discomfort they were enjoying?

Anger overcame her sensibility and Tessa began to dramatize the scene with different voices and inflections, almost as if she was reading a play and taking the parts. Ignoring what she was reading, Tessa performed with exaggerated sighs and sounds. Finally, reaching the end of the scene, she put her hand to her forehead dramatically, and whispered, "Oh, Jean-Pierre, you have made a woman of me at last!"

When she looked up, she saw the other young women gaping at her in stunned silence. Risking a glance at the Queen, she met a pair of wide surprised eyes. Suddenly, the silence was broken by loud applause.

"Brava!" crowed Queen Maria Cristina, clapping her hands enthusiastically. "You will do the reading from now on, Maria Teresa. The others put me to sleep." Maria Cristina laughed as she gestured dismissively at the other ladies-in-waiting, several of whom lowered their eyes with a hurt look.

Tessa put a woven bookmark in the leaves and closed the heavy volume, placing it on a nearby table. "Gracias, Your Majesty," she said as she tried to put a smile on her face. "I am glad my efforts have pleased you."

"You would please me more if you got rid of that Gypsy woman and employed a good Spanish servant," Maria Cristina said, her sharp dark eyes stabbing at Tessa with sudden ferocity.

Tessa opened her mouth to protest, then glanced around at the amused looks on the other girls' faces. Was the Queen baiting her into making an imprudent remark, something that would be gossiped about in the halls for days? Or was she serious about sending Marta away?

They had only been living at the palace for a few weeks. The novelty had not worn off as the two women roamed the halls of the great Monasterio de San Lorenzo de El Escorial. At every turning, there were paintings and frescoes to admire, life-sized statuary gracing every nook and cranny. Outside, the gardens were lush and green, offering long meandering walks and quiet places for reflection. Whenever Queen Maria Cristina allowed her to leave, Tessa would seek out Marta and they would explore their new surroundings.

To Tessa, it was a wonderland of beauty. To Marta, it was evidence of the decadence and waste of the ruling class. Though Marta grudgingly admitted that the Escorial housed many priceless pieces of art. But as she said, "the people who worked to pay for it are not allowed to enjoy it. Only the rich and idle are invited here."

She had kept Marta apart as much as possible from the life of the palace, knowing her feelings on the indolent nobility. There were times when her duenna's presence was demanded and Marta was forced to watch as sumptuous meals were served to the elegantly-dressed guests seated at the long dining tables. Course after course of rich foods were offered to jaded palates, many times being taken and left untouched on the plates. Marta always raged at Tessa after these feasts about the waste of food that could have fed the hungry and starving people instead fattening the already over-indulged stomachs of these patricians.

Tessa wondered now as the Queen awaited her answer, if Marta had let slip to one of the servants her radical views on the great gap between the rich and poor of Spain. The Constitution of Cadiz had contained many liberal ideas of the type that Marta espoused. Would Marta have been so indiscreet as to have spoken freely to anyone about her beliefs?

"Your Majesty," Tessa said, arising and trying to keep her voice level. "Marta is not a servant; she is my guardian and duenna. I will see about getting a servant to take care of my personal needs while I am here."

Maria Cristina smiled cunningly. She obviously sensed a little excitement, a break from the monotony of her daily routine. "Your guardian, Maria Teresa? What were your parents thinking of, having a heathen Gypsy as a guardian for you? What has she been teaching you - black magic, the casting of spells?" Maria Cristina laughed, a harsh wheezing sound and the other young women joined her in a chorus of restrained laughter. She wagged her ring-encrusted finger at Tessa with a shrewd look. "It is lucky you came to us when you did, Maria Teresa. Here, you will learn to be a lady. We may make something of you yet."

~~~~~

PART THREE
A FRIEND IN NEED

~~~~~

When Queen Maria Cristina finally released her from her chamber, Tessa was in fine temper. She could not face Marta right now. Marta was too perceptive and would elicit the reason for Tessa's distressed expression in no time. Tessa could seldom keep secrets from her. Instead, she wandered through the wide corridors of the palace, seeking the one place where she could forget her troubles for a while ... the great library of the Escorial.

Entering from a side door, she was entranced once again by the colourful frescoes that covered the arched ceiling and walls. A warm light from the clerestory windows shone down on the grey marble floor. It illumined the old wood of the carved bookcases and the gilt on the ancient volumes inside their glass doors.

Tessa breathed deeply. The air was redolent of musty old books and the pungent scent of linseed oil. Here and there, servants polished the bookcases and glass, effacing themselves and avoiding her glance when she smiled at them. Her attention was caught by the huge brass astrolabe in the centre of the library. The elaborate sphere was supported on the heads of four seated brass figures. She meandered past the astrolabe to the glass cases containing old manuscripts on display but kept securely locked away from intrusive hands.

She leaned closer to examine the beautiful illuminations of the letters and margins, and read the Latin script written so many centuries before. A sense of awe engulfed her as she thought of those pious monks and nuns spending their whole lives painstakingly copying the same manuscripts over and over. She shook her head. It was certainly a different era ... people had more time to indulge in such painstaking work back then.

She moved on to the printed books protected behind the glass doors of the bookcases. Hundreds of rare first editions, ancient tomes of philosophy and science... so many books that no one could read them in a lifetime of study. In the centre of the library, she stopped to look up at the trompe l'oeil frescoes adorning the ceiling. They were so realistic, Tessa almost felt herself floating as she gazed at the foreshortened figures ascending to a painted azure heaven.

A hand at her back caught her as she nearly fell over from looking up at the dizzying array of paintings. Turning quickly, she confronted a familiar pair of amused eyes. She recognized him from that first day when he had spoken to her in the grand salon.

"The best way to study the paintings is to lie on your back," he jested. "That way you won't fall over." He took her hand and pressed it to his lips warmly, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "I am Baltasar de Valenciaga, Capitan of the Escorial guards. I won't bore you with the rest of my titles. And I already know who you are, Maria Teresa Alvarado." His lips twitched into a roguish smile as he added, "I understand you like to read. However, perhaps these books are more to your taste."

Tessa turned away abruptly with a soft groan. "Madre mio. How did you hear about that so quickly?"

Baltasar laughed. "My sister, Juliana, is also one of the Queen's ladies. She told me." He took Tessa's arm and turned her to face him. "I knew when we met that you were different. I'm only beginning to know how different." A mock-serious expression crossed his face and he added, "Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?"

His words caused a strange flutter in her stomach and she knew her cheeks were glowing with warmth at his sudden change of sentiment. For a moment, Tessa was unable to frame a coherent or witty response to his seemingly casual remark. Finally, she stammered, "I am betrothed, Capitan." Silently, she berated herself for such an inane response. He was just being flirtatious. Nothing was meant by his remark. 'He must think I'm a witless child to take his banter seriously,' Tessa thought.

He looked crestfallen, his handsome features assumed a doleful look. "You have broken my heart, Marie Teresa. Who is the lucky fellow who has already staked his claim on you?"

An image of Antonio rose up in her mind... a sword in his hand, duelling for his family's honour. When he had defeated the opponent with first blood and turned away, the blackguard had attacked him, trying to stab Antonio in the back. Tessa had warned Antonio just in time and he ran the fellow through with his sword. The sudden violence and death had upset Tessa greatly, but Marta even more so. She turned against Antonio, forbidding Tessa to see him. So Tessa had met him secretly when she could, their trysts exciting and romantic, their stolen kisses passionate with forbidden desire.

Baltasar was looking at her strangely, then he smiled a little sadly. "He really is a lucky fellow, to make your cheeks warm so." He bowed gallantly making the short cape of his uniform slide across his broad shoulder. "When is wedding, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

Tessa was flustered. She was not used to such forwardness in being asked to discuss her private affairs with a near stranger. With a haughty raise of her chin, she replied, "I do not see that it is any of your business, Capitan." She turned toward the library door and took a step when Baltasar restrained her with a light touch on her arm.

"She will have to go, you know." His blue eyes studied her, looking for understanding of his statement. "When the Queen utters such a remark, it is not a suggestion, it is a command."

A rush of anger filled her at his impertinence. Who did he think he was, meddling in her life? Tessa recognized the truth of his comment and that made her angrier still. She was not ready to cope with this problem yet. She hoped put it off for a while but he was forcing a decision upon her.

Tessa snapped, "Is there nothing that goes on in this place, that is not instantly known to everyone? I might as well live in a fishbowl for all the privacy I have here."

Baltasar laughed and stroked his coppery coloured beard. "You had better get used to it. There is no such thing as a secret in the Escorial." The smile disappeared almost abruptly and he said, "Your Gypsy woman is out of place here. What do you think her life is like amongst us? When you are off at a picnic or a ride around the grounds, what do you think she is putting up with? While you are in the Queen's chamber, where is the Gypsy woman? What is she doing?"

His eyes were soft with sympathy and Tessa looked away. She felt guilty and heartsick for Marta. He was right. She had been selfish, wanting to keep Marta with her when her life here was so miserable.

Seeming to sense her inner turmoil, he took her hand again. "I think you have a tender heart, Señorita Alvarado. You will do the right thing." He kissed the back of her hand tenderly and pressed it gently to his tunic. "Since I cannot win your hand, perhaps we could become friends. I sense in you a kindred spirit, someone I would like to know better."

Once again her stomach fluttered oddly, and she had the urge to flee from his disturbing presence. "I would like that very much, Capitan Valenciaga," she answered carefully.

"You could also do me a favour, señorita." He regarded her seriously while still holding her hand. "My sister, Juliana, is a timid girl. She was raised most of her life in a convent and is very much out of her depth among these sophisticated people in the Court. She needs a friend, someone like you with strength and confidence."

Tessa was surprised to hear herself described that way. Strength and confidence? Was that how others saw her? The flattery warmed her, buoyed her spirits. Overcoming her diffidence, she said, "Of course I will. Juliana is already a friend. You had no need to ask me. But I will look out for her as the other ladies are sometimes cruel." Tessa closed her mouth quickly as if she had said too much but Baltasar just nodded in agreement. Juliana must have told him of the pettiness and snide comments she and Juliana endured.

"Now, Capitan Valenciaga, I must go and see Marta. We must talk over what to do. It is her decision too." With that, Tessa hurried from the library, determined to leave it to Marta whether she would stay or go.

Arriving in her apartment, Tessa experienced a sudden chill. The place seemed empty, cold. As she moved from the sitting room into her bedroom, then to her dressing-room, she knew Marta was no longer there. She could sense it. A note propped on her pillow confirmed her fear. Without opening the letter, Tessa knew what it contained as she picked it up and studied the familiar handwriting.

It seemed as if an abyss had suddenly opened up before her and she stood on the brink. She felt truly alone for the first time in her life. She sat heavily on the edge of her bed with the unopened note and blinked back the tears. Strength and confidence. That was what Baltasar had said of her. She would show that strength and get through this somehow. Without Marta - her anchor and her support.

~~~~~

PART FOUR
THE LETTER

~~~~~

A patch of sunlight warmed her shoulders as she sat on the wagon step, an unopened letter on her lap. Unseeing, Marta stared into the lush green of the forest, resting her soul in its peace. So still was she that a squirrel scampered near her feet, stopping to pick up an acorn. Her slight movement as she glanced down at it, frightened the active little creature and it dashed up a nearby tree, scolding her loudly. Its chatter made her smile a little. She returned her gaze to the letter.

Just over a week had passed since she had left the Escorial and returned to her gitano band. Her Uncle Tonio had been given the letter by a member of another band that had passed through Madrid. Tessa knew how the gitano communicated and had arranged it to be carried to Marta. As she gazed down at the letter with its red seal, Marta reviewed the chain of events that had eventually brought her back to her people.

A servant of one of the ladies-in-waiting had come to her with an account of that morning in the Queen's chamber. She was the only friend Marta had made there. Hesitantly, the woman had told Marta of the Queen's edict about getting rid of Tessa's Gypsy woman.

Marta's anger over their treatment of Tessa had turned to cold fear for her. Would Tessa resist this order and defy the Queen, or would she ask Marta to leave? In her heart, Marta knew Tessa loved her, and might try to protect her. They had talked many times since arriving in the Escorial about their dislike of the place with its petty intrigues and gossip. Tessa was aware of the treatment Marta received from other servants, their sullen or superstitious looks, the way some crossed themselves and turned away as she passed to avoid the 'evil eye'. Though she tried to make light of it, Marta knew these slights wounded Tessa also.

After the other servant had left, Marta quickly began to assemble the few things she would need for the trip back to Madrid and eventually, to her own people. While she packed, she wondered where Tessa was, why she had not come to their apartment to speak with her. It was just as well. The parting would be painful and Marta had not been sure she would have the strength to leave if Tessa begged her to stay.

With her travelling bag packed, Marta wrote Tessa a brief note, leaving it on her pillow, then slipped from the lavish apartment. Following the corridors, she eventually arrived at the service area of the palace where the business of keeping the Escorial functioning was carried on by an army of servants and craftsmen. She walked out into the busy courtyard behind the palace where deliveries from Madrid and the surrounding countryside supplied the needs of the nobility within.

Many dray wagons and carts filled the space and Marta stepped over to one of the drivers. He was piling wooden crates of empty wine bottles onto his heavy wagon. A pair of large draught-horses stamped and shivered impatiently as their tails flicked at the bothersome flies nipping at them.

"Are you going to Madrid?" she had asked him.

He set a crate down on the wagon and turned in surprise to look at her. A puzzled expression crossed his weathered face as he stroked the grey whiskers on his grizzled chin. "Si," he said slowly as his gaze swept over her. "Do you want something delivered?"

"Yes ...me. I must get to Madrid right away. Can you take me?" Marta held up her small purse and jingled the coins inside. "For four cuartos, would you take me to an address in Madrid?"

The promise of reward seemed to make his decision for him and the driver readily agreed. Marta climbed onto the hard bench to wait until he had finished loading his wagon. After he had completed his task and seated himself beside her, he gave her another curious glance, his expression suspicious. He eyed her bulging travel bag as if he suspected her of stealing something.

"Are you in some trouble, señora, that you want to leave so quickly?"

"No, señor. My mistress has discharged me and I must leave today." She watched his eyes narrow as he considered her story. Then he nodded, and flicking the traces over the team of horses, started toward the service road that parallelled the path used by the fine carriages of the noble guests. It was separated by a wide grove of trees.

The driver proved to be mercifully taciturn, and the two-hour trip to Madrid was accomplished mostly in silence except for the loud rattling of the wine bottles in the wagon. Marta was grateful for the aloofness of her companion as her own thoughts were too heavy for any light conversation. A dozen times she nearly asked him to stop so she could go back, but she knew she was doing what was best. Tessa would understand her hasty departure. It seemed like cowardice to leave without saying goodbye, but Marta wanted to spare them both the pain of this separation.

When they arrived in Madrid, she gave the driver an address near the Plaza Mayor. He raised his eyebrows and whistled softly. "Why are you going to that fancy neighbourhood, señora? To look for work?"

"I have left some things where I used to live with my mistress and just want to pick them up." Marta opened her purse, handing him the coins and he started off again. Eventually, he drew up in front of the villa where Marta had lived for nearly eleven years with Tessa.

Inside the villa, it was cool and quiet. Her footsteps seemed to echo the emptiness she felt as she moved through these familiar surroundings. There seemed to be no one about. Finally, as she reached the kitchen, she found Estella the housekeeper, and some of the other servants sitting around the table eating their mid-day meal. A sudden squeal issued from Estella as she saw Marta enter the room. She looked as if she was seeing a ghost.

"Marta!" she panted, "We did not expect to see you again for ages." Estella jumped up from her chair, looking guilty. "Will you join us for lunch?" she said, offering her place.

"I won't be staying long, Estella. After we eat, I must speak with you." With that, Marta had pulled up another chair and helped herself to a portion of the meal.

~~~~~

Later, in Don Rafael's office, Marta had confronted Estella with some startling news. "You will go to the Escorial and remain there as Señorita Alvarado's maid. She will tell you what you must do. I am going away for some time."

Marta could see the questions and fears forming on Estella's lined face. She was over forty and had been a servant to the Alvarados since she was a young girl. When Marta had entered the household as Tessa's guardian, there had been considerable resentment from the other servants. The place Marta occupied should have been given to Estella, they seemed to feel. Now as she watched Estella trying to take in this momentous news, she experienced some concern. Estella was fidgety and nervous, talkative and fussy. She would drive Tessa crazy. But as Marta evaluated the other house servants, she realized that Estella was the only one who knew Tessa well enough to serve her. Perhaps it would not be too long before the Queen released Tessa from the Escorial and she could return to Madrid. Marta breathed a silent prayer that it would be soon.

"You will pack your things immediately. I will arrange for a carriage to take you to the palace today. Once there, just ask for Señorita Alvarado and someone will take you to her." Marta's tone brooked no argument, and Estella turned without comment and left the office.

Once Estella was safely on her way to the Escorial, Marta had led her own horse from the stable and saddled it. She had taken some provisions from the kitchen as she did not know how far from Madrid her band might be travelling. With her small hoard of money and the few personal items she could carry, Marta had turned her horse south toward Andalusia.

She knew the habits of her band and soon was able to track them through the byroads and paths they favoured. Their patternas, secret signs left on the roadsides by the gitano for other Gypsies to follow, showed Marta the direction in which they were travelling. It was only two days of steady riding before she caught up with them.

As Marta now sat meditatively reflecting on the depressing events of the last few weeks, she recalled the shock she had felt at seeing her people again. The war had taken a great toll on them. All were gaunt, their clothes ragged and much patched. Their usually flashing eyes seemed dimmed by sorrow and hardship, and their numbers were decreased. The band normally had at least thirty members; now she counted less than twenty.

Their spontaneous joy at seeing her seemed to revive their spirits. She was embraced warmly, tears of gladness spilled upon her shoulders, the lyrical language of the zincali filled her ears and heart, as her people received her among them again without question.

Later, after the feast that had been quickly prepared in her honour, Marta took her Uncle Tonio aside. His care-worn face tore at her heart. He looked so much older than when she had last seen him only two years ago. Much had happened he had told her. The younger men of the band had run away to join the Partisans. Nothing had been heard from them since. Even her brother Rafael and his own son, Pico, had gone to fight the war. It was better, Tonio said, than being conscripted into the Spanish army as muleteers and labourers where the gitano slaved at the most menial jobs to leave the soldiers free to fight.

Marta had offered him the small purse of money which she had been saving for years. At first he refused, but she had insisted that it would pay for her keep while she was with them. He took it with a chagrined look and a grateful smile.

"No matter how long I live among the payos, Uncle Tonio, I never forget that I am zincali," she had declared. As Marta had embraced her uncle, a pain stabbed at her heart as she felt his thinness. At lease, she hoped, the money and her presence might help them for a while.

Marta ended her reverie and breaking the seal on the letter, read the first few lines. They began to swim before her eyes and she refolded the letter. Standing up, she put it into the pocket of her skirt. She was not yet ready to hear what Tessa had written. The opening words had torn open the wound again. "My dearest Marta, I miss you more than words can say..."

~~~~~

PART FIVE
FREE TO BE ME

~~~~~

Tessa awoke to the sound of someone moving around the bedroom. She rolled over and was about to say, "Marta..." when she spied Estella setting a carafe of coffee on a metal frame under which a small candle burned. A rush of disappointment flooded her momentarily as she remembered that Marta was gone. In the next second, a sudden heady sense of freedom nearly made her laugh aloud. For the first time in her life she was free of all authority; she could do as she liked with no one to censure her. She sighed deeply and stretched languidly, smiling at the new and wonderful sensation. Though the strands of Marta's discipline seemed silken, they were as unyielding as ship's cables when provoked into action. In their eleven years together, Tessa had often pushed against that indomitable will, receiving only small concessions now and then to her childish wishes and tantrums. Now, as she thought about the days ahead without Marta's fierce protection, Tessa almost shivered with delight. It was so exciting to be on her own finally.

Her smile disappeared almost as quickly as it came, replaced by a sense of guilt. She should not be glad to be free of Marta who had done everything for her. However, as much as she berated herself for disloyalty, Tessa could not completely shake off the elation that filled her.

Estella said deferentially, "Señorita, your coffee got cold bringing it all the way from the kitchen. If you will wait a few minutes, it will be warmed again." Estella smiled though it did not relieve the perpetually hang-dog expression she wore as if the cares of the world rested on her narrow shoulders. Her black crepe dress hung shapelessly on her tiny thin body. A neat bun behind her neck pulled her greying hair severely away from her wan face. Some of the silver strands escaped onto the lace collar around her neck, the only item of unrelieved darkness in her attire.

Such a change, Tessa thought, from the colourful raiment that Marta wore. As bright as the Spanish sun was Marta in the morning, she recalled with a wistful smile. It would take some getting used to, not having Marta greet her cheerily every day.

With a quick bounce, she jumped out of bed and looked for her robe. She saw Estella coming toward her with the robe open, ready to help her put it on. For a second, Tessa was off balance. She did not want Estella performing such personal services for her. That was Marta's job. Tessa took the robe and pulled it on, a little disgruntled suddenly. By now, Marta would have had her laughing at some item of gossip she had picked up in the kitchen, or spoken of some memory or other that they had shared.

But Estella had no conversation. She was subservient and totally overwhelmed by the Escorial. Since late yesterday afternoon when she had arrived, Estella had been scarcely coherent so awed was she by the splendour of her new surroundings. Tessa had taken her to see the kitchens, storerooms, laundry rooms and other parts of the palace that a servant needed to be familiar with. Estella had moved like an automaton, trying to take it all in. Tessa felt a little sorry for her. She hoped Estella would settle in once she got over the shock of the change in her circumstances. At their city home, Estella was nervous and voluble; any slight change in routine might set her off into near hysterics. So Tessa resolved to be understanding and try not let Estella get on her nerves as she always did in Madrid.

After her coffee, Tessa dressed for the morning Mass at which all ladies-in-waiting were expected to join the Queen. This was followed by a communal breakfast with readings from the Bible by one of the many monks who lived in the Monastery. After the meal, a brief period of freedom was allowed the Queen's ladies, then they would attend Maria Cristina in her chambers until the mid-day meal. Occasionally, an outing was planned, but most of the time, her female coterie was forced to keep the Queen company in her stuffy chamber.

This morning during Mass, Tessa had whispered to Juliana that they might go outside into the gardens for a stroll before their attendance on the Queen was demanded. Juliana nodded shyly with a radiant smile.

After breakfast they quickly slipped out of the palace to enjoy the fresh air of the Escorial park. Together, they walked arm-in-arm along the well-kept pathways amid exotic flowering plants and shrubs, under arbours of fragrant blossoms, past some of the many ornate fountains that sparkled in the morning light. Estella and Juliana's maid, Bereniz, followed at a discreet distance.

"My brother seems quite taken with you, Tessa," Juliana said suddenly, her pale cheeks warming to a bright crimson. "I should not have said anything," she stammered, lowering her eyes. "It's just that when Baltasar spoke of you the other day, I had a feeling he was trying to get some information from me about you." Juliana giggled nervously as she glanced at Tessa. "I told him I did not know you well and could tell him nothing."

"I like your brother, but as I told him, I am promised to another."

Even as she spoke, Tessa found herself fighting an uprush of pleasure that Baltasar had been inquiring about her.

Juliana looked disappointed. "That is too bad for my brother and me," she sighed. "If you married Baltasar, you and I would be sisters. I would have liked that very much." She squeezed Tessa's arm affectionately.

Tessa felt a sudden fondness for this shy girl who had endured the cruel torments of some of the ladies-in-waiting. Their snide comments and vicious barbs often left Juliana speechless with chagrin. She seemed unable to defend herself, making her vulnerable to the nastiness perpetrated on her for the amusement of the clique around the Queen. A weak target who could easily be reduced to tears.

The raillery had toned down considerably since Tessa had befriended Juliana. The women gave Tessa a grudging respect when they found they could not best her in a duel of wits, or embarrass her into a spiteful silence. It became understood that Juliana had a protector and they left her alone.

All too soon it was time to return to the Queen's chambers for another boring morning of gossip and mindless chatter. Tessa sighed regretfully as they turned their steps back toward the side entrance to the palace. If only the Queen was more interesting or adventurous, it might be bearable. But she preferred to sit like a giant spider in a web and watch the fragile strands reverberate with her chosen prey. Tessa's impression of the monarchy had suffered a severe blow since arriving at the Escorial and viewing the royal couple up so close. Her romantic and glamourous vision of her sovereigns had been shattered by familiarity with them. Not only were they just ordinary people, but not even people to whom she would have given the time of day in other circumstances. It was quite disillusioning. She wished she had never been invited to stay here. So far, the only people she had found agreeable at all were Juliana and Baltasar.

~~~~~

The rustling of the letters that Queen Maria Cristina was reading and the clack of knitting needles which several of the ladies-in-waiting were plying diligently seemed dampened by the soporific aura of the chamber. Tessa sat with her hands folded, her mind drifting far away. She was wondering where Antonio was now. His last letter had been written over six months ago and he had hinted that he was with Wellington's army, that perhaps he might even cross the Pyrenees into France with them.

Tessa drew in a long wearied breath, nearly numb from boredom. How she wished she could do something adventurous and exciting like going to war with the men. The last time they were together, she had suggested to Antonio that she could go with him on the campaign, but he dismissed the idea immediately. That morning, he had sneaked into her bedroom to say goodbye before he left for the war and they had been sitting on her bed, talking in low tones so Marta would not hear.

"I would not have you become a camp follower like those vulgar women, Tessa," he had whispered passionately. "Living in the dirt and squalor of the baggage train. I want to remember you as you are now, someone to dream about, someone to fight for." He had then embraced her so urgently, Tessa was suddenly frightened. She had seen the hundreds and thousands of war casualties in Madrid and realized that Antonio could easily be among them or worse. He could be left behind the battle, buried in some unmarked grave with hundreds of other nameless soldiers.

She shivered though the room was warm, recalling how desolate she had felt when Antonio had said he was leaving right away. He had declared he loved her and was going to fight for her. What could she do to prove her own love to him? She had begun to unlace her bodice but Antonio had gently stopped her.

"When we are married," he had said with a warm smile. "I will come back and we will marry."

Tessa's cheeks warmed at the memory of his gentle touch and passionate kisses. She sighed wistfully, her heart full of longing to be with him again, to see his handsome face and feel his strong arms around her. 'We will marry,' Tessa vowed to herself silently. 'I will wait, no matter how long it takes.'

She suddenly looked up to see Maria Cristina staring at her. Disconcerted, Tessa forced herself to meet that sharp gaze without shrinking.

"What are you daydreaming about, Maria Teresa?" the Queen demanded. "From the look on your face, I would say it was a man." She smiled as several of her ladies giggled as if she had said something witty.

"I was thinking of California, Your Majesty," Tessa lied with a bright smile. "And how much I long to return there."

Maria Cristina's eyes narrowed as she focussed on Tessa more penetratingly. "Your Uncle Alejandro has told me that you have not seen Alta California since you were a child. How could you miss a place you can hardly remember?"

"My father is there, Your Majesty. I expect to join him at our hacienda sometime soon." Tessa hoped the Queen would direct her attention elsewhere and leave her alone with her thoughts. Such turned out to be a vain hope.

"Your uncle has also told me you have taken music lessons for many years. That is good, Maria Teresa. A woman should have accomplishments to entertain her husband and keep him interested." Queen Maria Cristina had set her letters aside, seeming to have fixed on Tessa as a new diversion. Tessa saw at once the danger she was in. If the Queen asked her to play the pianoforte, her lies about the music lessons would be exposed. While supposedly going to a music master, Tessa had actually been learning fencing from the foremost maestro de esgrimas in Madrid, Señor Torres.

"Perhaps a woman might have other accomplishments than music to interest a man," Tessa replied. As soon as it slipped out, she realized what she had said. She caught her breath almost afraid to exhale. Her face burned with embarrassment, especially when the Queen suddenly howled with laughter.

"You have been reading too many French novels, Maria Teresa," Maria Cristina chuckled. "Your head is full of romantic nonsense." Pulling herself up straighter in her chair, the Queen added, "We would like to hear you play for us. Something new and modern, perhaps from one of those Austrian composers." She gestured imperiously toward the pianoforte which stood across the chamber near an ornately frescoed wall.

"Though I have taken music lessons for some time, I fear I have no talent for it," Tessa said lowering her eyes modestly. Her arm swept to the other ladies seated in a semi-circle around the Queen's chair. "Perhaps someone else's music would please you more, Your Majesty."

"We will decide for ourselves if we are pleased or not." Maria Cristina once more pointed to the pianoforte with an impatient motion of her arm.

Tessa rose slowly and walked toward the music corner where the pianoforte and several other instruments stood. A slightly raised dias surrounded by a heavy brocade curtain marked this area off from the rest of the chamber. She felt nearly faint with fear as she approached the dreaded instrument whose keys she had scarcely ever touched. Looking amongst the other instruments she noted a small harp, a cello case and a violin case. Behind the pianoforte, leaning against the wall, she spied a guitar case. For a moment she hesitated, then mentally shrugged. 'What the hell. Whatever I do, I will be in trouble.' She unclasped the case and withdrew the guitar. A quick strum told her the instrument was somewhat out of tune but she decided not to take the time to tune it. Sitting on the piano bench, she prepared to play.

"What do you think you are doing, Maria Teresa?" the Queen asked sharply. "I told you to play some music for us."

"I do not play the pianoforte, ma'am. I only know how to play the guitar. If you do not wish to hear it, I will relinquish my place to someone else," Tessa said hopefully. The frown she received told her the Queen was not going to relent from her command to play.

Turning her gaze back to the guitar, Tessa strummed over the strings, trying to recall some of the classical pieces she had learned. Gradually, they came back as her fingers remembered what her nearly frozen brain could not. Nervously, then with more assurance she played, eventually losing herself in the music. With a final strum she looked up to see a contemplative expression on the Queen's face.

The shadow of a smile hovered over Maria Cristina's thin lips and her eyes held a slight mirth. "Play another," she said sternly. "Something more lively this time."

Her fingers limbered from the first tune, Tessa started slowly into a flamenco, gradually picking up the tempo until its volume drowned out every other sound in the room. A spirited flourish ended the tune, and Tessa, lost in its spell, shouted, "Ole" as the last note sounded.

Breathing heavily from exertion, she noticed the total silence as she glanced up. The Queen looked dumbfounded and the other ladies stared in utter amazement. Tessa stood and bowed modestly, saying with an uncertain smile, "I hope Your Majesty found that lively enough."

"Flamenco!" the Queen expostulated. "Just what one might expect of a girl raised by a Gypsy. It is well you sent her away to liberate yourself from her foreign influence."

"Marta is as Spanish as I am," Tessa protested unthinkingly. "Her family has lived in Spain for over four hundred years." She clenched her jaw, reminding herself grimly she must learn to curb her tongue.

The Queen's face was rigid though her small dark eyes flashed. Her voice rose an octave as she spat out, "Maria Teresa, you will leave the chamber and go to the chapel. There you will beg the forgiveness of our Blessed Lady for the sins of disobedience and hubris. You will never learn to be a lady so long as you persist in this rude behaviour." Maria Cristina's jowls shook with anger as she pointed to the door.

Tessa replaced the guitar in its case and with a sidelong glance at Juliana, left the chamber. Outside in the hallway, she was undecided whether to obey the Queen or do what she so wanted to do... go outdoors into the gardens to shake off the stifling atmosphere of the chamber with a little freedom. With a heavy heart, she wandered listlessly toward the nearby chapel where the Queen heard Mass every morning.

'Perhaps,' she thought with a sudden lift of her spirits, 'I will spend a few minutes in prayer and then go outside.'

~~~~~

PART SIX

~~~~~

The heavy oak door closed noiselessly behind her. Tessa stood at the back of the chapel for several minutes, inhaling the warm familiar fragrance of incense and candlewax. For as long as she could remember these scents had a soothing effect on her. Just being in the chapel uplifted her spirit, seeming to transport her to a different place where she felt herself enfolded in the secure embrace of the Church. As she let the peace of the chapel descend upon her, Tessa glanced around, noting she was alone. Ahead was the altar with its twinkling red lamp, reminding her she was in the presence of her Creator. Clerestory windows of stained glass softly illuminated frescoes of the lives of the saints along the walls and etching into high relief the marble Stations of the Cross. Rows of carved wooden pews stood on either side of the main aisle.

A memory rose up and suddenly she was a child again, trying very hard to walk properly and not stumble over the long hem of her First Communion gown. She was once more in the cathedral in Monterrey where the Bishop awaited the young communicants at the altar, dressed in his elegant robes and tall golden miter. Around him, a haze of fragrant smoke swirled as an acolyte swung the incense-burner. She had kept her eyes straight ahead at the long line of other girls also dressed in white with lace veils like tiny brides, nervous of making a mistake. As she passed her mother, she had turned and smiled at Tessa... a smile of pride and love. Tessa was once again warmed in that glow of love, remembering her mother's face as it was then. That was the year her mother had died, when Tessa was seven.

The memory vanished leaving only a vast emptiness in its place. She suddenly felt her aloneness very keenly... all the people she loved were far away; she was completely isolated in this place with only two friends amid all the sycophants and hangers-on who lived within the palace.

Abruptly, she shook herself, refusing to wallow in self-pity. Tessa moved toward the altar, her leather shoes making a loud tapping sound on the marble floor, echoing in the stillness of the chapel. She quieted her steps, wondering as she did why it seemed necessary when there was no one else to hear.

Reaching the front, Tessa settled onto the kneeler of the first pew and bowed her head. She tried to clear her mind of its confusion of emotions and thoughts, and devote herself to prayer. It seemed impossible. Her rebellious brain refused to concentrate. Tessa raised her eyes to the statue of the Blessed Virgin in an alcove next to the altar, focussing on her beatific face and upraised hands that seemed to be pointing to heaven. Following the direction of those hands, she let her eyes wander over the ornate paintings on the domed ceiling. For long moments, she was lost in the beauty of that art then she returned her gaze to the altar. Forcing her mind to prayer, she began to recite the Pater Noster. The sound of the chapel door opening and closing broke into her concentration but she determinedly shut out the intrusion.

Muffled footsteps came closer as someone moved toward the front of the chapel. Tessa forced herself not to turn to see who had entered. She heard the newcomer kneel in the pew behind and tried to ignore her curiosity while focussing on her prayers. Finally, attaining the composure she was seeking, Tessa prayed for patience with Estella, for the safety of her father and Marta and especially Antonio, and for herself.

Someone suddenly leaned near her ear, making her start, and whispered, "When you feel you have done enough penance, meet me in the garden."

Tessa turned in time to see Baltasar marching toward the back of the chapel and open the door. When he was gone, she faced the altar again, her mind more disquieted than before.

~~~~~

Tessa sat on the hard bench to collect her thoughts. Baltasar's sudden intrusion had unsettled her just as she was finding that peaceful place where she could rest her spirit. He was a disturbing presence in her life these days. For the past few weeks she had met him, by accident usually, in various places around the palace or grounds. Sometimes she had been walking with Juliana, other times just meandering aimlessly through the halls with Estella in tow behind. The previous week, he had encountered her just as the mid-day meal was finished and she was returning to her apartment for the siesta. She smiled as she remembered his playful manner.

"Are you going to take your siesta, or would you like to do something more interesting?" His bright blue eyes twinkled and his copper-coloured moustache stretched as he smiled. "I would like to invite you to take a ride with me around the park."

Tessa had hesitated, uncertain. "My duenna does not ride." The look of disappointment on his face was so keen, she relented, throwing caution to the wind. "I am sure it will be all right as we will always be in full view of others in the park."

She agreed to meet him and hurried to her apartment to dig out her riding togs. Estella had protested weakly about not being able to do her duty, but Tessa quieted her fears. "We are going to be on horses the whole time, Estella. Even Marta would not object." Except, she reminded herself, Marta would insist on coming along for the ride.

Very soon, she was mounted on a fine Arab, black as jet, dainty and quick to the rein. Baltasar had put a regular saddle on her horse for which she was grateful. She had never liked riding sidesaddle. At first, they walked the horses, then as they moved further into the less frequented parts of the grounds, Tessa kneed her mount into a trot.

It had been awhile since she had ridden and the thrill came back with full force as she urged the horse into a canter. The trees along the path flashed by as she laughed with the exhilaration and freedom of her headlong rush through the park. Turning slightly, she saw Baltasar catching up on his big bay horse. Tessa pressed the flanks of her Arab and it stretched out into a full gallop. Everything seemed to blur as she controlled the horse's flight, keeping to the narrow path and watching for obstacles. The path crossed a stream over which was a narrow bridge ahead. She guided the horse away from the bridge and splashed through the water, sending up spray on all sides.

Finally, Baltasar had caught up with her and grabbed the reins, pulling the horses to a halt. At first he seemed angry as he slid off his mount. The horses shivered and blew, their huge chests pumping like bellows. Then he laughed and held his hands out to assist her down from the saddle.

"Perhaps I should have made it clear that a ride in the park is usually done at the walk," he said with mock sternness. "You surprise me, Maria Teresa. Not many women ride so well." His eyes darkened as he gazed at her earnestly.

Tessa laughed, breathless with excitement. "It has been a long time since I had such a good ride. Thank you, Baltasar." She brushed at her hair, moving the loose strands away from her face. Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

The effect on him seemed electrifying. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her close. "You look wild as a Gypsy," he whispered as he moved his lips near hers. "What a strange girl you are."

Tessa quickly placed her hand over his lips and moved away. "We should return. My duenna will be worrying about me." She remounted her horse and started to walk it back along the path toward the palace.

Now, as she sat quietly in the chapel, Tessa pondered over his invitation. Was accepting his company being disloyal to Antonio? She was doing nothing wrong in enjoying the trivial pleasure of his friendship. Yet, a feeling of guilt worried at her. Was she enjoying his company too much, looking forward to seeing him too much? No, she reassured herself, her heart belonged to Antonio. Nothing would change that.

She thought, 'I will wait a few more minutes so he doesn't think I'm too anxious.' But after a few more seconds, she gave up pretending she was not impatient to be outside and in the company of someone who seemed to care about her. With a respectful genuflect, and a last apologetic look at the statue of the Virgin, Tessa moved quickly to the back of the chapel and practically fled to the nearest exit into the Escorial park.

A strong wind blew through the gardens, bending the slender willows and scattering leaves and blossoms onto the verdant expanse of the lawns. Tessa started down the path into the park, wondering where Baltasar was. As she passed a hedge, her shoulders were suddenly grabbed from behind. She jabbed her elbow in her attacker's ribs and he let go with a pained grunt.

Turning quickly, she faced Baltasar who was shamefacedly rubbing his chest. "Do you always greet your friends like that?" he jested.

"Only when they attack me," she retorted. The defence technique was one that Marta's brother, Rafael, had shown her years ago. It was the first time she had ever had to use it and was pleased that it worked so well.

"From now on, I will confine my attacks to the gentler kind," he said taking her hand and kissing the back. Still holding her hand, he tucked her arm under his and led her back onto the path. For several minutes they strolled in silence. She was acutely aware of the intimacy of his arm near her breast but to move away would be to draw his attention it, so she tried to ignore the pleasant sensation.

At length, he said, "I know so little about you. Tell me about your childhood, how you fared in the war in Madrid. I want to know everything."

Warmed by his friendly curiosity, Tessa began to describe her life in Madrid, omitting the parts she felt she should not reveal such as the fencing lessons. She told him all about Marta, realising as she did how much she missed her companion. The details of her life in California were rather hazy, but Tessa recalled as much as she could for him. He asked her about Antonio, and Tessa told him how they had grown up together and fallen in love, and that Antonio was in the army.

"Antonio is a lucky man. He must write you often to tell you how lucky he is and how much he loves you," Baltasar said sombrely. The regret in his voice was evident.

"I have not heard from him in over six months," Tessa admitted. "I am sure it is difficult to get letters through from wherever he is." A cloud covered the sun for a few seconds, like the pall that suddenly overlay her spirits as she wondered why he had not written.

"He never writes and still you are faithful to him," Baltasar said with a sad smile. "You are an unusual girl, Maria Teresa. He does not appreciate you. Not as I would."

"You don't know anything about him," Tessa said defensively.

"I only know I wish I was him, to have that place in your heart that he holds so lightly."

The conversation seemed to be taking too intimate and dangerous a turn, and Tessa searched for a topic less personal, less troubling. As they passed the herb gardens, she pointed out and named many plants and their medicinal properties. While walking through the rose garden, she showed him the varieties that grew in her own garden in Madrid.

At first, he seemed amused by her erudition, but finally he said, "You should leave a man something to teach you, Tessa. Did your mother never tell you a man likes to feel he is smarter than a woman? It seems wrong for a woman to flaunt her knowledge so openly."

Tessa looked away quickly to hide her annoyance. "If a man resents a woman's intelligence, there is something wrong with the man, not the woman," she replied tersely as she withdrew her arm from his.

She realised with amusement she had just reiterated something Marta had said to her many years before when she was about ten years old. Her cousin, Ricardo, had been visiting and had brought his chess set with him. He was a few years older than Tessa and wanted to show her how to play. After a few games, she understood the moves and from then on, beat him continuously. Finally, he packed up his chessmen and board and huffed off to his room. Tessa called him a crybaby and a spoilsport as he retreated from the dining room. She had sat for several minutes almost regretting she had not let him win as she now had no one to play with. Going to Marta, she had explained what happened. Marta had leaned down to her and said those same lines that she had just repeated to Baltasar. They were still true, Tessa thought. "Why should I pretend to be stupid to batten a man's ego?'

"I think I have had enough fresh air, Baltasar. Let us go back," she said as she turned toward the path leading back to the palace.

He caught her hand and pressed it to his chest. "I have insulted you, and I humbly apologize." He kissed her hand and looked earnestly into her eyes. "It is a pleasure to be in the company of an interesting and intelligent woman. And one who is also beautiful." The wind blew her loose hair around her face and he gently brushed the tresses out of her eyes. A few errant strands caught on her lip. With meticulous care, he lifted the fine dark hair, allowing his touch to linger on her cheek. He moved his hand to the nape of her neck and pulled her slowly toward him.

For a heartbeat, he hesitated then kissed her. Gently, persuasively, sensuously. She was not prepared for the sudden assault on her senses. Nearly a year had passed since she had kissed Antonio goodbye. All her longing and fear and passion has gone into that last kiss as they had clung to each other fiercely. The feeling then had been bittersweet, almost angry as the kiss had ended and Antonio had slipped out her bedroom window and gone to war. How different this felt. Transcendent, light, all-encompassing. As if each particle of her being had suddenly come to life.

Confused, she pushed him away. "This is wrong," she said huskily.

"Nothing done in the name of love is wrong," he said, trying to pull her back.

"This is," she said harshly as she escaped his grasp and rushed away from him.

~~~~~

PART SEVEN
A FAMILY AFFAIR

~~~~~

The tall straight figure of her uncle drew her attention immediately as he paced back and forth near the fountain. Its joyful splashing, sending up rainbows of spray, contrasted singularly with Alejandro's troubled demeanour. He turned abruptly at her approach. Even the welcoming smile she gave him did not relieve the severity of his countenance.

Tessa was reminded how much he looked like her father, except Alejandro was clean shaven. The same lofty expression and same dark eyes that distinguished her father now swept over her as she stepped to her uncle's side.

He had sent his servant into the palace to ask her to meet him outside, away from the prying ears of servants and others. Now as Tessa moved quickly to embrace him, she wondered nervously what was wrong. Surely, he could not have heard about the flamenco already. That was only yesterday. His return embrace was perfunctory and rigid, and he gently pushed her away.

"What have I been hearing about you?" he said without preamble. "Your remarks to the Queen are reported everywhere in the palace." Her uncle had some position in the Spanish government which Tessa did not entirely comprehend. She knew it had something to do with being a liaison with the British government, but his actual job seemed to be a secret. He came and went from the Escorial frequently, and she never knew when he might be in residence.

He took her by the shoulders and stared seriously into her eyes. "Tessa, you must grow up. This is not a play garden. This is the royal palace where certain kinds of behaviour are expected ...no, demanded." He sighed heavily, releasing her. "Rafael should have listened to me when I said you should have been raised by our sister, Damona. She would have taught you how to behave like a lady." He shook his head. "Instead he insisted on that Gypsy woman, Marta. I do not know what he was thinking."

A defence of Marta sprang to her lips but she clamped her jaw against uttering it. She knew it would only make him more angry. Instead she said, "Uncle Alejandro, if my presence here is such a burden, perhaps you could get the Queen to release me from my year as her lady-in-waiting." Scarcely daring to breathe, she waited hopefully for his answer.

"I have already made that request, and Her Majesty insists you must stay. She says she is sure she can make something of you in spite of your strange upbringing." For the first time since he had arrived, Alejandro smiled. Impulsively, he gathered her into a warm embrace, and laughed. "She does not know what she has taken on, mi querida. Even as a little girl, you were wilful and hot-headed." He pushed her back slightly, regarding her with fondness in his eyes. "My son, Ricardo, was always a little afraid of you. Did you know that? Even though he was older and bigger, you scared him."

Alejandro straightened, resting his boot on the low wall of the fountain and gazing at its bouncing spray. He sighed deeply. "You should be married, Tessa. Then I could answer your father's letters with something hopeful instead of vague promises. He wants grandchildren to take over the hacienda, a strong man to help him in that wild land. My Ricardo has already given me two grandchildren, one of them a boy." He beamed proudly. "Ricardo will fill his home with children so the Alvarado name will continue. What about your father? Do you not owe him that much, Tessa? To know his name will not die with him, that his line will continue?"

"Uncle Alejandro, I do plan to marry. As soon as I find someone to love. You would not want me to marry someone I did not love." Though the day was warm and sunny, Tessa began to feel chilled. The conversation was taking a turn she did not like.

"If you do not find someone soon, Tessa, then as your nearest male relative, I must begin to make arrangements for you."

Could she be forced to marry against her will? Tessa did not know, but it seemed possible. All those racy French novels that the Queen seemed to prefer told of heroines escaping into their true love's arms, running away from marriages arranged to further the family fortunes. Was there an element of truth to those stories?

She took a deep breath and said, "Actually, Uncle, I have been considering entering the convent."

Her uncle turned quickly, his eyebrows upraised. "What?" he exclaimed. "Since when have you been thinking of this?"

"Oh, for a while," Tessa answered airily. 'Maybe a minute,' she thought trying to restrain her smile at her uncle's horrified expression. "Perhaps that is why I have not married. I may have a vocation, a calling to the religious life."

"Ridiculous!" he snapped. "You have no calling. Look at you, Tessa. Can you see yourself ... a beautiful and spirited woman... hidden away in some convent? This is childish nonsense." He wrapped his arms around his chest and glared at her truculently.

Tessa put on her most innocent face, widening her eyes as she returned his stare. "If I told you half of what goes on in this place, you would be shocked. Here I am, daily surrounded by such temptations, Uncle, I dare not tell you."

"I know what goes on here," he growled. "I used my influence to get you in here to give you some social standing, to make you a better marriage match. Temptations! Bah! You are too intelligent to be tempted and too clever to be taken in. If I did not think so, I would never have arranged this for you. Hundreds of girls would trade places with you in a second, Tessa. You have been given a great opportunity to meet the right people so later, when you are in Madrid, you can travel in the best social circles."

"I don't see myself in that life, Uncle Alejandro. I see myself doing good for others somehow. I really think I have a vocation." She turned aside to hide her smile as he scowled at her.

She grasped his hand, warming to her idea. "Just think, Uncle. Sister Maria Teresa." Raising her eyes heavenward, she continued, "What a wonderful life it would be, wearing that black habit, walking sedately through those convent halls. Or maybe," she added excitedly, "I would become a missionary sister, working among the natives of Africa or South America. Perhaps even in a leper colony."

Her uncle's expression darkened. "Do not think you are taking me in with this ruse, Tessa. I know you too well. You have no calling to the religious life. You are just trying to stop me from pressing you about marriage."

"Well, I wouldn't be the first woman to take refuge in the convent to escape being forced into a loveless marriage." Tessa met his eyes candidly and he looked down for a second.

"Who said anything about a loveless marriage?" he asked, spreading his hands widely.

"You did, Uncle. You said if I did not soon find a husband, you would find one for me. That sounds loveless to me."

He seemed at a loss for words momentarily as he stared at her, then he said quietly, "Your wishes would, of course, be consulted in the matter."

Tessa glanced away toward the gardens, musing aloud, "Perhaps the Carmelites, or maybe the Benedictines."

"All right!" he said loudly, making her start. "I will not insist on your marrying right now. Just do not make any arrangements to enter a convent. I will oppose it in any case."

"This is one decision a woman can make on her own, Uncle," Tessa said with quiet resolve. 'Not that I would really consider it for more than a minute,' she added to herself.

"Madre de dios, Tessa. I almost pity the man who marries you." He laughed suddenly. "In fact, you are very much like your mother. She had a will of iron when she wanted something."

The mention of her mother shocked her slightly. "You really think so, Uncle?" she asked, pleased by the comparison. Suddenly, he was not her adversary any longer but her beloved uncle whom she had known most of her life. It seemed wrong to keep him thinking she had no marriage prospects when he worried about it so much.

"I do have someone in mind to marry, Uncle," she said. Her cheeks warmed as he grasped her hands, a very surprised expression on his face.

"Why did you not say so before? Where is he? How may I meet him?"

"His name is Antonio, and he is in the British Army with Lord Wellington. When he returns from the war, we have promised we will marry." Her face grew hotter as she bore the penetrating gaze Alejandro focussed on her. He did not seem pleased.

"Does your father know of this engagement?" When she shook her head, he exploded with wrath. A vein throbbed in the temple of his florid face. "You have made a secret betrothal to someone your father does not know? Why, Tessa?"

His sudden fury made her recoil a little. She had never seen him so angry before and she found it unnerving, especially as it was directed at her. "Antonio did not want me to be tied to a formal engagement in case he was badly hurt in the war. He thought it would be easier on both our families if we waited to announce it when he returned. I did not agree, Uncle, but that is what Antonio wanted. I would ask you to keep this secret for me. Antonio is a good man; he is honourable and kind. If you met him, you would approve."

She smiled coyly at him and took his arm to lead him along the path into the maze of hedges and flowering shrubs. She began to regale him with palace gossip, tidbits of her life there, anything to distract his mind from worrying over her marriage prospects. At length, he laughed, somewhat mollified and seemed to be enjoying her conversation. The path they followed wound around the Escorial to the front where an enormous pool reflected the majestic structure on its shimmering surface.

Alejandro paused and Tessa observed him as he gazed at the grandeur of the Escorial with the morning light shining upon its hundreds of windows, the geometric precision of its architecture. Built during the Renaissance, it was meant to signify the union of humanity and religion. Tessa enjoyed the way the reflection on the pond softened its sharp edges, making the image waver like a mirage.

He took her arm again and they began to retrace their steps toward the palace. As they approached the entrance, Tessa halted.

"Uncle, is this not the month when Marta receives her annual stipend? She joined our household in October, and each year Papa sends her the stipend on that anniversary."

"Tessa, this financial business is not your concern. Where is Marta? I will give her the note myself."

A sudden worry assailed her. "Marta is with her band for now, Uncle Alejandro. Somewhere south of Madrid in Andalusia." She explained the Queen's order and Marta's departure. Her uncle's dark brow knit as he frowned slightly.

"If she is no longer working for us, Tessa, I hardly think she should receive her pay." Alejandro said reasonably. He started off again, but Tessa detained him with a hand on his arm.

"Marta has served us for over eleven years with no holidays, scarcely any days off. Surely, we can reward her for her loyalty. As soon as I return to Madrid, so will Marta. She deserves some consideration, Uncle."

"Your father entrusted me with his financial affairs and I cannot justify this expense for a servant who is not working." As if that ended the matter, he again tried to move toward the palace entrance.

"If you do not give her the money, I will ...from my allowance." Tessa drew herself up and raised her chin defiantly, meeting his surprised gaze without flinching. "Of course, that will leave me without funds to manage here. And it is expensive ... what with new dresses and shoes for the parties. Perhaps I can borrow money from friends," she added with a pert smile.

Alejandro's face flushed and he spluttered, "You will do no such thing, Tessa!" With a chagrined look, he added, "If it means so much to you, I will send her the note for her stipend."

"It will have to be cash, Uncle. A note would be of no use to Marta." Tessa held her breath, expecting another storm of rejection.

He shook his head, evidently giving up. "Cash then," he said with a chuckle. "Madre mio, what a headstrong woman you have turned out to be." Alejandro pulled a leather purse from his jacket and counted out a small pile of reales.

Tessa was dismayed when she saw how little it was. She had no idea what Marta was paid, but she had expected it would be more than this pittance.

"I spend more than this on dresses in a month!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Surely a year's work is worth more than this." A sense of injustice lodged in her heart as she thought of Marta, working so hard uncomplainingly and receiving so little for it.

Alejandro sighed deeply. "That is why women should stay out of men's business. You have no head for it. Marta has never complained of ill treatment. Why should you?"

Tessa knew why Marta never complained. Cash money of any amount was prized, especially since she probably sent much of it to her mother.

"Christmas is coming soon, Uncle. Let us add something extra as a gift." She knew as soon as she said it, he would oppose her on this. He had evidently made enough concessions. 'I will send it myself,' she thought as she observed his jaw clench belligerently.

~~~~~

Juliana chattered on brightly, describing her home in Galicia, their gardens and their olive groves. As she rambled on, Tessa observed with a smile how different she was when they were together. In the Queen's chamber, Juliana hardly ever spoke but with Tessa she was animated and vivacious. A few young men in the palace had cast their eyes in her direction but Juliana confided that she was in love with a young man who lived near their hacienda in Galicia.

Though the two young women had exchanged girlish confidences, Tessa had withheld many things about her own life in Madrid. Juliana was not yet ready for some of her stories, Tessa decided with inner amusement. The shy Juliana would have a hard time believing that Tessa had spent nearly a year with a gitano band, or taken fencing lessons dressed as a boy, or acted as an occasional courier for a spy network in Madrid during the War. Sometimes, Tessa could hardly believe these things herself.

Running footsteps coming from behind made Tessa turn, then grimace slightly when she saw who it was. It had been nearly a week since she had seen him. Baltasar caught up, breathing hard and fell into step beside his sister.

Tessa was struck by the similarity between the two siblings. Both had the same high wide forehead and clear blue eyes, the same oval shape of face. Where Juliana's fine hair shone in the sun like red gold, Baltasar's hair was the colour of tarnished copper and curled closely to his head. Juliana's eyebrows and even eyelashes were the same shade as her hair, and on her cheeks was a sprinkling of freckles. She always carried a parasol like the one she was now sharing with Tessa to keep the sun from darkening her freckles. With her pretty patterned frock, Tessa thought she looked like a porcelain doll.

Baltasar broke the brief silence as they strolled together. "Juliana, what does it take to regain a friendship if one has offended his friend?" With a significant look at Tessa, he turned his attention to his young sister.

"It depends on the offense, Baltasar," Juliana said reflectively. "Some things are unforgivable. But perhaps a simple apology might suffice." She smiled as she slid a sidelong glance at Tessa.

Immediately, Baltasar planted himself on one knee in front of Tessa with his hands out in supplication. "Please forgive me," he pleaded in mock earnest. "I humbly beg your forgiveness."

Juliana giggled and tried to drag him to his feet. "Get up, Baltasar," she said, her cheeks reddening. "You look ridiculous."

Tessa stepped past him and continued to walk. She had to admit she had missed his lively company. It mitigated the loneliness she often felt as the hours sometimes hung heavily when she was not required in the Queen's chamber. He had shown her many parts of the Escorial and palace that she had never seen, including the Monastery. He seemed to have accumulated a vast store of knowledge of the history of the place which kept Tessa fascinated for hours as they strolled through the corridors and rooms. She enjoyed his company and looked forward to seeing him. But that kiss had taken their relationship in a direction she had no wish to follow. Why could he not have left it at a warm friendship instead of insisting on trying to become a lover?

Her mind preoccupied, she nearly stumbled over him as he dropped to his knee again in front of her. "Tessa, I apologize. It will not happen again."

He did look ridiculous and other strollers on the path were starting to point and laugh. Tessa relented with a smile. "All right. I forgive you. Now please get up. You're making a scene that will be all over the palace in seconds." She held out her hand to help him up, and received a warm squeeze in return.

Baltasar's delighted smile warmed her. Juliana looked radiantly happy. 'Perhaps,' Tessa thought, 'she is still hoping I might marry her brother.' Despite her misgivings, Tessa was glad to have his friendship again. He was so charming and exciting to be with.

~~~~~

PART EIGHT
THE FALLS

~~~~~

Tessa finally sent Estella on a errand to get rid of her. The servant's constant fussing was driving her crazy, especially when she needed to be alone to think. This afternoon had been the final straw. After what had happened, she knew she must not see Baltasar again.

Several weeks after she had reconciled with him, Baltasar had suggested another ride during the palace siesta period to which Tessa had readily agreed. This time, he said, they would visit a small village a few leagues from the Escorial. It lay in a valley at the foot of some steep hills and there was a wonderful waterfall nearby.

For these past weeks, he had been the soul of propriety, never overstepping the bounds of friendship. At the recent parties held in the palace, he had been her partner for many dances, but never tried to monopolize her. During their long walks, he insisted her duenna be present even though poor Estella fell further and further behind as they strolled and chatted without noticing how weary the woman was. Often they found her sitting on a bench fanning herself when they returned along the same path.

The day of the ride was bright with a hint of winter in the air. The leaves in the park had turned golden, shimmering brightly on the trees. A chill wind brought the blood to Tessa's cheeks as they walked the horses out of the Escorial park then onto the main road. As soon as they were clear of the park, Tessa nudged her horse into a trot. Baltasar rode close beside her, almost knee to knee, and they covered the distance to the village very quickly.

Tessa stopped on the rise of a hill and gazed down on the village. She filled her eyes with its delightful quaintness, the red-tiled roofs and rose-coloured adobe walls. Little plumes of smoke floated and wavered from the many chimneys of the tiny hamlet.

They started down the hill following the road which wound into the village then widened at the town square. As they walked the horses through the town, Tessa smiled down at the women washing their clothes in a trough next to the village well. She exchanged a cheery greeting with them. They passed an old man leading a weary donkey laden with bales of hay. Tessa's horse shied and pranced as two barefoot children, a boy and a girl, herded a small flock of goats down the dusty street toward them. Their young-old faces were fiercely concentrated on keeping control of the flighty animals. An elderly woman, sitting next to an open doorway, looked up from the flax she was winding onto a spindle and gave Tessa a toothless grin.

Tessa was struck by how pretty the village had looked from a distance, but at closer view, was dismayed by its dire poverty. Many tiles on the roofs were cracked or missing. Mud and stones filled holes and cracks in the adobe walls of the houses. Everyone she passed in the village had the same gaunt, hopeless look on their weathered faces. The small village huts were dominated by the size of the church with its lofty spire which cast a long shadow on the street as they rode past.

War and famine haunted this small village as the people doggedly tried to wrest scant survival from the unforgiving soil. As they left the village behind, Tessa felt her heart go out to the campesinos she observed working in their sere fields, trying to glean a harvest from their drought-stricken land. She hoped the meagre crops would yield enough to keep them through the coming winter.

The contrast between rich and poor was not unfamiliar to her. She was aware that in Madrid, behind the palatial homes lining the elegant avenues where she lived, were mean streets of starving and desperate people. Those were areas where she had been warned not to travel. 'We keep to our own territories and pretend the others do not exist,' she thought as she rode beside Baltasar. She wondered what he was thinking, noting how he seemed in a hurry to get through the village. For a moment she considered sharing her concerns about the plight of the peasants with him, but on second thought, decided to keep her thoughts to herself.

The land they rode through was hilly. Ahead she could see the looming bulk of the Sierra de Guadarrama, resembling a large dark cloud bank on the horizon. Baltasar reined his horse toward the mountains and soon they were in the foothills following what looked like a goat track toward some steep hills.

Tessa began to be nervous about the distance they had travelled from the Escorial. Night fell earlier and she did not relish the gossip that would ensue if she was known to be out alone after dark with a man.

"Are we getting near the waterfall, Baltasar?" she asked, impatience sharpening her tone. She shivered slightly from the cool wind that seemed to flow down from the mountains. Soon those mountains would be covered with snow. Tessa pulled her woolen shawl more closely around her. She was glad of her leather gloves and the heat of the horse's flanks which kept her legs warm.

He turned to her and grinned. "It's just ahead, less than half a league. Listen."

He pulled his mount to a halt and Tessa reined in beside him. A dull roar came faintly to her ears. Suddenly, she was excited to see it. If she could hear the falls from this distance, how mighty must it be. She kneed her horse into a canter and Baltasar gave a whoop and followed her.

They came to a clear stream that meandered toward the hills, around rocky clefts and groves of shrubs and trees. As they got nearer, a sound like slow thunder rumbled through the trees. They followed the stream and finally, came into a clearing.

There, suddenly, was the waterfall ... a wonderful cascade of white water plunging down the hillside. Its roar drowned out every other sound. Tessa was thrilled by its power, by its thunder and its beauty. The falls shot off the top of the hill, then crashed down past boulders and trees, finally plummeting into a wide pool at the foot of the hill. Riding as close as she dared, Tessa could feel its cool mist coating her face. She laughed aloud, enraptured by the amazing sight. Her own voice sounded dulled in her ears.

Baltasar dismounted and reached into his saddlebag, withdrawing a pewter cup. He carried it to the falls, and held it out to catch a cupful of the clear water. Striding back to Tessa, he held it out for her to drink.

"Gracias," she shouted over the din of the waterfall, and took a sip. It was marvellously cold and refreshing after the long ride. When it was empty, she handed it back.

He held out his hands to help her as she slid from the saddle. "We'll rest the horses for a few minutes," he said loudly, cupping his hand to her ear. "Let's go downstream a little way so we can hear."

Tessa took the reins and led her horse away from the falls. The noise seemed to be making it skittish. She tethered her mount to a shrub near the stream so it could drink then returned her gaze to the waterfall. In the late afternoon light, the sun made rainbows of the mist as it drifted on the wind.

"How beautiful," she said breathlessly. "I have never seen anything like this."

"Was it worth the long ride?" Baltasar asked. He seemed pleased by her reaction to this special place, almost as if he had created it for her himself.

"Yes," she said. "Thank you for bringing me here."

He moved to his horse and pulled a wine bottle from his saddlebag. With a corkscrew, he quickly opened the bottle, then took out another pewter mug. He poured some wine into her cup and offered it to her. "The wine of Galicia," he said proudly. "You must try it or my ancestors will be insulted."

A little reluctantly, Tessa took a sip and found the wine to be excellent. "Your ancestors' sensibilities remain uninjured. Galician wine is the best I have ever tasted ...except for my father's wines of course," she added, unable to resist the jibe.

Baltasar poured himself a cup of wine and downed it quickly, then poured another. He offered her more but she declined. The wine was stronger than she was used to. She sipped it slowly, tempted to pour it onto the ground instead of finishing the potent drink. But he might be insulted if she did.

"Come on," Baltasar said. "I have something else to show you." He wound her arm in his, keeping the wine bottle in one hand and his cup in the other and led her back toward the waterfall. As they neared the cascade, Tessa felt again its power over her senses. It was almost overwhelming.

"There is a cave behind the falls," he said close to her ear. His breath warmed her ear and she felt his lips graze the soft flesh of her lobe. It made her shiver. "Maybe there's a treasure inside," he whispered as he pulled her close.

His lips moved from her ear to her cheek, then to her mouth. She tasted the wine on his lips, felt the warm serge of his tunic under her hands and the hard length of him against her. The roaring in her ears made her dizzy as he kissed her, at first gently, then with gathering passion. Somewhere she heard someone warning her, but she was deafened by the falls. Its mighty roar seemed to pull her into a maelstrom of emotions, unloosing the banked passion and for a while, she was lost. He strained against her, seductively enticing her lips to open to his tongue. As she felt herself being lowered to the ground, she suddenly came to her senses. With a hard push, she thrust him away, her breathing loud and ragged in her ears.

"I didn't want this," she rasped as she backed away. Turning, she fled to her horse and leapt upon it without a backward glance. The startled animal bolted into a gallop.

She hardly remembered the return journey as she flew over the countryside and through the village. When she finally arrived at the Escorial stables, the sun was just setting. She handed the horse over to a groom who took it with a fierce glare at her. The beast was lathered and heaving. It would have to be cooled out before he could put it back in its stall.

It was the supper hour and the corridors were nearly empty as she hurried to her apartment. As soon as she entered, Estella let out a loud gasp. Tessa tore off her riding gloves and hurled them into a corner. From a water carafe, she poured a large drink and downed it thirstily. She dropped her shawl onto a nearby sofa and stood for several moments, trying to catch her breath.

"Señorita, what happened to you?" Estella cried in alarm. She fluttered about as if she didn't know what to do.

A quick look in the hall mirror disclosed a dishevelled and distressed-looking young woman staring back at her. Her hair was wildly tangled from the wind, and her clothes spattered with mud. "I'm all right, Estella. I have just been out riding, and it's windy." She almost felt too weary to speak.

"But it is so late, Doña Tessa! Were you lost? Do you want a bath? Shall I bring you some food?" Estella's look told Tessa she knew there was more than was being told. Tessa wondered what Marta would say if she had come in late and looking like this. 'Plenty,' she thought glumly. 'I should feel lucky she is not here.'

"Let me get a brush and tidy your hair, doña," Estella said, moving quickly toward the bedroom. "Perhaps you would like a glass of wine."

"No!" Tessa exploded suddenly. "I don't want any wine. I don't want my hair combed and I don't want a bath. I just want to be left alone!" Immediately, she regretted the outburst as Estella recoiled from her mistress' anger. "I'm sorry, Estella. I'm very tired. And hungry. If you want to do something for me, please bring me some dinner."

Estella left the apartment quickly, an aggrieved look on her face.

'Ay de mi,' Tessa sighed as she wandered into her bedroom and removed her muddy clothes. She pulled on her robe and then picked up her brush to try to pull the tangles out of her hair. Sitting in front of the vanity mirror, she stared at the face of a very confused girl. She felt her cheeks warming as she remembered those moments by the waterfall. 'He must be in love with me,' she thought. 'But what do I feel?'

~~~~~

After dinner, Juliana slipped silently along the corridor of monk's cells toward the room occupied by her brother. The officers of the Escorial guard had been billeted in the vacant Monastery cells. She wanted to speak with him. He always counselled her well, and made her feel better when she became overwhelmed by her surroundings. As she neared Baltasar's room, she could hear male laughter. She was about to turn back, when she heard a familiar name mentioned by one of the men. Curious, she crept close to the open door, remaining hidden by its side. In the room, she could hear the scraping of chairs and the clinking of glasses. The men in the room were obviously drinking a great deal and becoming boisterously loud.

Someone said, "So, Baltasar, how goes the battle?"

Baltasar laughed. "The siege is nearly over, and the fortifications will soon be breached." She heard a clink, then another chuckle from her brother. "And you, Manuel? How are you progressing." Juliana knew Manuel; he was one of Baltasar's closest friends.

Manuel groaned self-pityingly. "Very slowly. Anna Maria's duenna sticks to us like a limpet."

Another voice joined in. "At that rate, you will be last. My lady-in-waiting, Veronica, is nearly ripe for the plucking. Just a few more days and..." He left off amid general laughter and a din of loud conversation.

Manuel said, "You're a lucky fellow, Baltasar. Maria Teresa Alvarado is so beautiful. I would change places with you in a minute."

"Oh, no, Manuel. Not after I have laid all the ground work for the final battle. To the victor, the spoils," he crowed and was joined by a chorus of hurrahs and clinks of glasses. "In a few days or less, you will all be paying me your hard-earned reales. May the best man win. And that man will be me."

Juliana leaned against the wall for support. The breath seemed to have gone from her lungs making her feel faint. What she had just overhead could not be what it sounded like. Her beloved brother could not be involved in such a vile scheme. Wagering on the virtue of her friend. Juliana staggered away, almost too numb to move. As she left the monks' corridor and began to make her way to the palace, she was beset by divided loyalties. Should she tell Tessa and betray her brother, or keep silent and betray her friend?

~~~~~

Her skin crawled suddenly with gooseflesh and a sick sensation started somewhere in her stomach. She felt as if she was suffocating, unable to get her breath. He could not, she told herself over and over. He would not be part of any such malicious conspiracy. But his sister had conveyed the story to her on the assurance it was true. Juliana said she had heard her brother and his friends joking about it in his room as she had stood outside his door. Tessa shivered involuntarily, her mind reviewing the chivalrous words and amorous attentions he had lavished on her these many weeks. It was all lies, all directed toward one objective.

Anger began to burn behind her eyes then flashed through her body. She was hot with fury suddenly. How dare he try to seduce her on a wager with his churlish companions? Tessa shook her head to clear it. She still could not believe anyone could be so cynical, so decadent and vicious as to plot the seduction of someone whom he had supposedly befriended. If she was a man, she told herself, she would call him out and cheerfully kill him.

She turned to Juliana who waited silently, her face pale with suffering. Tessa felt sorry for her having to bring such a story about her own brother. She wanted to say something to relieve Juliana's feelings of guilt at betraying her brother, but her throat constricted and she choked on the words. Instead, she embraced the girl, hoping that gesture would convey her thanks.

Juliana left the apartment without a word. The vacuum of silence seemed to beat around Tessa's ears like the raging of her own pulse. She needed to do something but what?

Overriding all was a sense of betrayal, of trust given freely and thrown back in her face. And shame. How close had she come several times to letting her desire for Baltasar sweep away her inhibitions. Worst of all was the thought of her own betrayal of Antonio. She had pledged to wait for him, to marry him. In a way, she was no better than Baltasar ... a betrayer of trust.

Numb with pain, Tessa stumbled to her bed and sat down. Juliana had admitted that Tessa was not the only young woman involved in the bet. Three of the other new ladies-in-waiting were also to be seduced as part of the wager. The cavalier who made the first conquest would be declared the winner. It was too infamous, too unimaginable to be true. Yet Tessa knew it was.

'Why did he choose me?' Tessa wondered. 'Do I seem to be an easy target?' Her clenched jaw ached as she held back the tears she would not let fall. To weep over this would give him another victory. And he had not won yet, she reminded herself.

Somewhere in the desolation in her heart, a spark appeared, an idea. Feeding on her fury the spark ignited into the full flame of a plan. She sat up straight and smiled.

~~~~~

PART NINE
IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT

~~~~~

There he was, waiting for her by the fountain as arranged, the nearby torchlight casting his dark shadow onto the ground. He looked eager, and somewhat smug as she approached. It had taken little convincing to get him to meet her the next night in the gardens after dark. Tessa looked around furtively and noted with relief, there was no one else to be seen. He came up to her quickly and led her into the shadow of a nearby grove of trees. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her with a passion that nearly made her knees weak. Her resolve wavered for an instant, then strengthened.

She broke the kiss and pushed him away gently. "Not here," she whispered in his ear and was rewarded by his convulsive shiver and deep impatient sigh. He nodded and followed her farther into the park, along the meandering paths until they were well away from the torchlit gardens. It was nearly pitch-dark as she kept hold of his hand and led him into a deep copse of trees. At length, she stopped, a bit breathless. She could hardly see him though her eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

"Follow me," she whispered. It was a warm evening for October and a slight breeze rattled the leaves overhead. Around them, only the merest shadows of the trees could be seen. There was a small glass-covered summer house just ahead and she led him to it and opened the door. She guided him into its near total darkness. The sound of their breathing seemed unnaturally loud as she closed the door.

"It is warm in here," he said with a low sensuous laugh. "But we should have a blanket to lie on."

"Don't worry, Baltasar, I have thought of everything."

He reached for her again and this time, his kiss was deeper, more aggressive as he forced his tongue between her lips and gripped her so tightly she could hardly breathe. With an effort, she broke away. She brushed her fingers over his lips and said near his ear, "We do not have much time. My duenna will soon be wondering where I am."

She felt his fingers fumbling at her bodice and trying not to shudder, pushed them away. "I will do this myself," she said huskily. "You undress and I will be ready also."

"These things should not be rushed, mi caro," he purred in her ear. "Part of the pleasure is in the anticipation."

"Next time we will plan better. This time we must hurry." She moved away and listened. The rustle of clothing being hastily discarded reached her though she could not see anything. Her heart was racing as she heard him undressing. "Are you ready, reine de mi corazon?" she whispered into the darkness.

"Yes, where are you? If only we had a little light so I could see how beautiful you are."

"You want some light, Baltasar? Then you shall have it!" Tessa laughed as four lanterns suddenly unshuttered and spilled their light over the naked man, bathing his stark whiteness in their glow. The four women shrieked and giggled as he futilely tried to cover himself.

Tessa lifted a bucket of cold water and threw it over him. "That should cool you off," she spat. Still laughing, she scooped up his tunic and trousers and, escaping from the summer house, began to run down the path with them. The other women picked up his remaining clothes and boots and followed her with the lanterns.

As she neared a fountain, she dumped his uniform in. The rest of his things soon followed. Tessa took one of the lanterns and set it on the edge of the fountain.

"We can't let him go wandering the palace halls like that, can we? It would be too cruel. At least he can find his clothes." Tessa chuckled as she turned her steps once more to the palace and linked arms with her co-conspirators, the other three ladies-in-waiting.

~~~~~

As Tessa slipped into the Queen's chamber, the low murmur of voices ceased. All eyes were fixed on her as she found her seat. She avoided the eyes of her accomplices while forcing her features to remain stoically blank. The buzz of conversation began again in whispers and Tessa knew they were talking about last night's escapade.

The Queen suddenly entered from her bedroom and the ladies-in-waiting all rose to give her a greeting and a curtsey. Maria Cristina waved her hand languidly at the assembly and took her place. The women sat down again to await her pleasure. For several minutes, the Queen looked over some papers that she had brought in with her, then glanced up and fixed her sharp eyes on Tessa.

Warmth began creeping into Tessa's cheeks as she held herself still and unflinching from that hard stare. The tension in the room was almost palpable as the Queen continued to regard her in silence.

"We understand that you have a dampening effect on young men, Maria Teresa," the Queen said with a stern look.

"It would appear so, Your Majesty," Tessa replied as she lowered her gaze quickly. She lost the struggle to control her features and a wide grin spread over her face. Among the ladies, a chorus of giggles broke out.

A droll smile crossed the Queen's lips and her eyes softened. "It was well done," she said. "And well deserved." As if dismissing the matter, she returned to reading her papers.

Tessa let out the breath she had been holding and glanced around at the other three young women. Their faces looked relieved. Giving them a saucy wink, she settled back on her chair. The chamber no longer seemed so stifling as she gazed about at the elegant furnishings and the brilliant paintings by Murillo and Velazquez. She let her eyes wander over the ornate frescoed designs that covered nearly every part of the walls and ceilings. Strange, she thought to herself, how she had never noticed these things before. Or how the sunlight spilled through the leaded glass illuminating this beautiful room so brightly.

At length, Maria Cristina looked up again at Tessa. This time she was actually smiling. "We have been very dull here lately," she began as her gaze swept over all her ladies-in-waiting. She returned her attention to Tessa. "Since you seem to have a flair for arranging entertainments, Maria Teresa..." She paused, giving a reproving glance at several young women who suddenly snickered. "We are assigning you to plan some interesting events for us." The Queen chuckled almost silently and added, "Within the bounds of propriety of course."

~~~~~

Strains of music floated over the din of conversation as Tessa entered the Grand Ballroom with Estella following close behind. The large salon was filled with animation and colour, elegantly bedecked women plying their fans, smartly dressed men attending them courteously. Among the men were many in regimental colours adding a dash of bravado to the assembly.

She glanced down at her own gown with a satisfied smile. It was the equal of any in the room. Marta had copied the design from a French gown she had seen, changing the colour to the deep blue that suited Tessa's dark hair and eyes so well. The sleeves puffed near her bare shoulders, and the waist cinched in tightly while the skirt belled out generously below. When she moved, the satin swished sensuously.

As she gazed around at the brilliant gathering and the dazzling opulence of the ballroom, she was shaken by sudden dread. It had only been a few days since she had taken her revenge on Baltasar but everyone in the palace would undoubtedly have heard of it. What kind of reception would she have among these people? So far, only a few had looked at her curiously as she stood near the entrance.

Lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders, Tessa began to make her way into the room, heading for a row of chairs near the far wall. Threading through the crowded salon, she met many a curious glance, some lifted eyebrows and a few sly smiles. Several men toasted her silently and nodded to her as she swept by. Finally, she reached her destination and took a deep breath. She allowed herself a smile as she sat down. It was not as bad as she had expected. She had feared a backlash against her, that when she entered the salon, the music and conversation would suddenly stop and everyone would regard her coldly. That had not happened. In fact, it seemed quite the opposite. Most of those she had encountered seemed amused even deferential. It was as if she had passed some sort of test and was now one of them.

A young man wearing a military dress uniform stepped up to her and bowed. "May I have the honour of this dance, Señorita Alvarado?" he asked, his manner courtly.

Tessa rose and gave him her hand, suddenly vastly amused. He knew her name without introduction. That meant she was now well-known in the palace, perhaps even famous. 'Or infamous', she thought, withholding the laugh that nearly spilled out.

As she danced a waltz with the young soldier, Tessa searched the room for Baltasar and his companions. A glow of satisfaction warmed her as she noted they were all absent. Guilt niggled at her for a moment but it quickly vanished as she swept around the crowded dance floor immersed in the radiance of the beautiful salon and the glamourous spell of the Spanish Court.

The evening sped by with scarcely a moment when Tessa could sit out a dance. Finally, she flourished her fan and found a vacant seat away from the dance floor. No one had mentioned the revenge of the ladies-in-waiting on those scoundrels but all seemed aware of it. It was in the knowing looks of the women who seemed very well disposed toward her and in the amused smiles the men bestowed on her. Like an in-joke that everyone shared.

She became aware of someone watching her and scanning the gathering, met the eyes of a British soldier standing across the room. As soon as she noticed him, he started toward her. His progress was severely hampered by a limp as he leaned heavily on a cane and hobbled with painful slowness through the crowd.

When he reached her, his forehead was moist with perspiration and around his mouth was a whiteness that suggested he was in pain. Tessa stood up to save him bending to kiss her hand.

"Señorita Alvarado?" he asked, slightly out of breath. He was thin to the point of gauntness, somewhat smaller than the usual Englishmen she had seen. An almost comical moustache curled from his upper lip, waxed into a near circle at its ends. Tessa could see he must have been portly when in health, as his jowls seemed slack though his face was quite ruddy from his brief exertion. His red tunic was gilded with braid and service medals. In his white trousers and black boots, he cut a dashing figure. She guessed him to be over forty as his dark hair and moustache showed a distinguished glitter of silver, especially at the temples.

"Si," she said with a warm smile as she held out her hand to be kissed.

"I am Major Thomas Everett of the South Essex Regiment." He hesitated as if unsure what to say next. His Spanish was somewhat rudimentary but intelligible.

Tessa realised his discomfort and asked, "Would you like to sit down, Major Everett?" She took his arm and helped him to settle onto a chair. A slight groan escaped him as he propped his injured leg out in front.

"Johnny Petit got me at Burgos," he said, pointing to his leg. "I'm lucky to be alive. Thought I'd lose my leg too. "

Tessa tried to follow his conversation and finally asked, "Who is 'Johnny Petit'?"

The major laughed. "French soldiers, Señorita. That's what we call them. I'd hate to think what they call us." He chuckled under his breath.

A light laugh escaped her as she recalled the name the Madrileños dubbed the British. "We call the English soldiers 'colorados'." With a sharp intake of breath, she covered her mouth with her fan, suddenly afraid she had insulted him.

He chuckled good-naturedly. "Colorados. That's very good. Colourful," he repeated to himself in English and laughed again. "I suppose we are, what with all our different regiments and their colours."

After a brief silence, Tessa asked conversationally, "Are you enjoying the ball, Major?". She was not sure why he had sought her out and was consumed with curiosity. He knew her name, but what did he want?

The major pulled himself up straighter in his chair. "I went to your villa in Madrid and the servants told me you were here. So I came to this ball, though not to do any dancing certainly. I have brought you something." He reached inside his tunic and pulled out a bundle of paper tied with a red ribbon. "Some young rogue named Antonio begged me to give you these."

He held out the letters, waiting for her to take them. For a long moment, Tessa was too overcome to speak or even reach out for the package of letters. He set them on her lap. She rested her hands on the bundle, striving for composure. She was grateful when he looked away discreetly as tears welled into her eyes. He cleared his throat a few times and swallowed. Her sudden emotion seemed to be affecting him too.

"Gracias, Major," she said softly. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"I have all the letters my wife sent me here in the Peninsula. They're tattered and all but illegible but I read them over and over." He patted her hand. "I understand how you feel."

More composed, Tessa said, "Tell me about Antonio. How is he? Not hurt?"

The major smiled paternally. "That young hothead has the luck of the devil. Not a scratch on him. He's our best liaison with the Partisans, and a damned good intelligence man too."

For over an hour, Tessa pressed one question after another on the major until she could see by his tight expression that he was tired and probably in pain. She was immediately apologetic. "I have worn you out with my questions, Major." She felt a flood of warmth for this brave man who was badly wounded and still delivered Antonio's letters as he had promised. "Rather than riding all the way back to Madrid tonight, I could arrange accommodations for you here. Many of the monk's cells are empty and I'm sure you could have one for tonight."

The major began to get to his feet and Tessa stood to help him. "Gracias, Señorita Alvarado, but I have a coach waiting outside to take me to my quarters in Madrid. I guess my riding days are over," he added wryly, tapping his leg. Picking up his cane, he bowed slightly. "I should go now. It has been a great pleasure meeting you. Small wonder Antonio made me promise to deliver the letters to you personally. He is a lucky man."

Tessa beamed under his praise. "I am very much obliged to you, Major Everett, for bringing me these letters. As a return for your kindness, for coming out of your way so far, I offer you the use of my villa in Madrid for the duration of your stay." Turning to Estella, she said, "Bring me some note paper and a pencil, por favor."

"That's really not necessary, Señorita Alvarado. I'll be comfortable enough in the hotel. In a few weeks, I will be on a ship back home to England. Retiring on half-pay for my injury." A heavy sigh escaped him then he smiled.

Tessa took his arm and assisted him through the room, carefully bypassing the many couples milling in groups. By the time they reached the exit, Estella had returned with the writing materials. Tessa moved to a side table and wrote instructions to her servants in Madrid.

She folded the note and handed it to Everett. "I shall be very disappointed if you do not accept my hospitality, Major." She pressed his hand warmly. "It is all I can do to repay your kindness."

He seemed to relent. "In that case, how could I refuse?" He bent and kissed her hand with a courtly flourish. Gesturing around at the glittering ballroom, he said, "I was impressed by your villa, Señorita, but this is the proper setting for you."

Tessa giggled self-consciously behind her fan. "Are all British officers so gallant?"

He laughed lightly and twirled the ends of his curled moustache. "It's part of our basic training. Are all Spanish Señoritas so gracious and charming?"

She leaned toward his ear conspiratorially and whispered, "It is part of our basic training, too." Impulsively, she kissed his cheek, grasping the letters tightly. "You have made me the happiest woman in this room, Major. Vaya con dios."

With a quick salute, he took his leave and began to hobble down the corridor toward the exit from the palace. Soon he was lost to her sight among the throngs in the brightly-lit hallway. She pressed the bundle of letters to her breast, undecided whether to go straight to her apartment to read them, or wait until the King and Queen had arrived at the ball. They were fashionably late as usual and it was considered poor manners to leave before their majesties had made their appearance.

Tessa took a quick look at the letters in her hand then darted down the hallway in the direction of her apartment. 'Maybe I can read them and get back before the King and Queen arrive,' she thought as she hurried away from the music and glamour of the ball.

~~~~~

PART TEN
LETTERS FROM THE FRONTIER

~~~~~

Once back in her apartment, Tessa quickly shuffled through Antonio's letters. Some were only a few pages, others much longer. A few of the pages were smudged with dirt and crumpled, as if he had kept them in his pocket. It touched her heart to imagine him carrying these personal notes with him into the thick of the battles. She arranged the letters into the order of their dates to read the oldest first.

Eagerly, she unfolded the earliest letter and began to read. It was dated a few weeks after the last message she had received from him, over six months ago. Warmth spread through her and a little smile crossed her lips as she read his loving words, his hopes to see her soon, his plans for their future. He went on to describe the country in which they travelled, some tidbits about the British and Spanish soldiers in the army. A few sentences served to show Tessa what devastation the warring armies had wrought in the villages and countryside. Then he signed the letter with the hope it would reach her but he did not know how long that would take. His duty took him far in advance of the main body of troops into the countryside where he scouted to find traces of the French or linked with the Partisans to help them work with the British to arrange small harassing raids on the enemy.

His next letter tore at her heart as he poured out his soul ... how he missed her, loved her, how the thought of her sustained him through the horror of the war. Antonio declared as soon as he could, he would come back to her and leave the war behind. It was a brief letter, only a few pages, but Tessa had to stop for a few moments to compose herself and wipe away the tears with her handkerchief. She felt the pain between the lines, the feeling of hopelessness in the tone.

She carefully refolded the pages and opened the next. In this, the mood was entirely different. A great victory had been won over the enemy and he was ebullient. For several paragraphs he rhapsodized over the bravery of the soldiers, the cleverness of Wellington. He went on to speak of the Partisans, those valorous men and women who risked their lives daily to gather intelligence for the liberators or engage in guerrilla raids to keep the enemy off-balance. Among the Partisans, he wrote, there was a woman, almost a legend. Her name was Teresa, and though he had never met her, he thought she must be wonderful. The Partisans told tales of her courage, her intelligence and her beauty. He said she was an inspiration to them all.

Tessa sat back on her chair, and set the letter down on her writing desk. Her imagination was fired by this woman, by the way Antonio spoke of her so passionately. A sense of her own uselessness dampened her spirits as she thought of herself, comfortably and safely ensconced in a luxurious palace while others fought the battles and took the risks for her. For several minutes, she was too depressed to read on. She just gazed unseeingly past the flickering candle on her desk to the dark windows of her apartment. Outside of this safe enclave was a different, more exciting world, but she was trapped here, sitting on a shelf like an ornament, planning silly diversions for the idle and wealthy denizens of the palace.

She recalled the late fall picnic she had arranged to take the ladies-in-waiting and some young noblemen to the falls. Their convoy of rich coaches had swept through the little village as they drove on to view this wonderful sight. The picnic was a great success. Large baskets of foods were carried by the servants to the small meadow near the cascade. The party ate a sumptuous meal sitting on blankets. All the guests thought it was a marvellous outing, roughing it in the wild. They congratulated Tessa over and over for her brilliance in planning this adventure.

On the return trip, Tessa had the coaches stop and ordered the remainder of the foods in the baskets to be set beside the town well. Once this was done, the carriages continued on their way back to the grand Escorial. Tessa had turned, gratified to see the villagers looking through the baskets and smiling their thanks for the gift.

She returned to the present, and resumed reading the letters. Though he declared his love for her over and over, he did not mention again any plan to leave the army once the war was over. He talked of crossing the Pyrenees and chasing Napoleon back into France, of capturing or killing the 'Man of Destiny'. She could almost feel the excitement in his words, almost as if he had started to love the war.

She remembered her conversation with Major Everett. He had told her how anxious he was to return to England, to be back with his wife and family.

"Imagine," he had said to her, "I have a granddaughter I have never seen. She would be nearly two years old now." He had sighed heavily, a sad smile on his face. "But I'm one of the lucky ones. At least I'm still alive. I've observed there are two kinds of men in war ... those who love it and those who hate it. After two wars, I hate it."

"And Antonio?" Tessa had asked, almost afraid of the answer.

The major had looked away for a moment, then replied, "You will have to ask Antonio."

Reading his last letters, she had her answer. A chill invaded her as she stacked up the pages and retied the bundle. She almost wished she hadn't read the letters. This was a different Antonio from the man she remembered ... a man who revelled in taking risks. 'And taking lives too?' she wondered with a leaden feeling in her stomach.

She heard again the charge that Marta had levelled against him after that fatal duel in which she had seen him kill a man. "He values life too lightly," Marta had said. But, Tessa rationalized, in that case he had defended himself, and now he was fighting a desperate war against an invading army. Surely, those were extenuating circumstances.

Tessa placed the bundle of letters in a small drawer of her writing desk and stood up, smoothing her satin gown. She beckoned to Estella and together they returned to the Grand Ballroom.

~~~~~

The Christmas season lasted for weeks at the palace. Tessa was glad when it was finally over. So many parties and dances, so much rich food. She had to admit to herself it had been a lot of fun too. Today, early in January, she walked with Juliana along the snow-covered paths in the garden. A hoarfrost overnight had turned the landscape into a fairyland of soft white shapes, crystalline in the bright sun. It was almost to brilliant to look at.

Juliana had become her closest friend at the Escorial despite her brother's maliciousness. Juliana tried to defend her brother by saying he had fallen in with bad companions, that he really was a good man at heart. Tessa had simply kept her own counsel, allowing Juliana to believe she was in agreement.

As for Baltasar and his cohort, they had been sent to the regular Spanish army. The last Tessa had heard, he was with a troupe escorting a convoy of prisoners-of-war to the coast to debark them for France in exchange for the allied prisoners. The long war was nearly over. The details of peace were being worked out.

As they strolled in silence, Tessa mused over the letters she had received recently ... one from her friend, Luisa, and the other from her father. Luisa's letter came from Ibiza where her family was enjoying the warmth and escaping the winter. She spoke of parties and picnics, formal visits and tea with the nobility. Tessa had smiled slightly when she came to the part where Luisa had slyly reminded her of her promise to lend the pink organza dress. 'I should probably just give it to her. I'm sure it doesn't fit me anymore,' Tessa thought wryly. She was sure she must have gained some weight with so little exercise and so much rich food. 'As soon as I get back home, I will return to my fencing lessons,' she promised herself with a sudden lift to her spirits.

Those spirits plunged again as she thought about the contents of her father's letter. It troubled her. He wrote of his return trip to California and its many excitements, the ports they had called at, the many exotic sights he had seen. When he came to the part about their hacienda, a sense of disquiet assailed her. Hidden in his words, there seemed to be a dread. Tessa felt a chill of alarm as she recalled them. "When I arrived back at the pueblo de Santa Elena, I found that a new military commander was in residence. Colonel Montoya can be a charming and genial man, but he is one who seems to have ambitions overreaching his station. It remains to be seen where these ambitions may lead him, and us."

Tessa thought of another man whose ambitions overreached his station, and of the ensuing horror that had followed as he led his armies to conquer all of Europe. Could this Colonel Montoya be another such man in the making? She shivered, not so much from the chill air, but from something like a premonition of danger. Though she tried to shake it off, the feeling persisted even as Juliana began to chatter about the beautiful gardens and the excitement of all the past parties.

~~~~~

Tessa made herself comfortable on the settee, preparing to read the letter from Marta that her uncle had brought from Madrid. Before her, the fireplace crackled brightly and she stretched her slippered feet toward its warmth, resting them on the ottoman. She smiled gratefully at Estella as the servant set down a doily then placed a cup of hot mulled wine on it. The spicy aroma warmed her senses.

It was late February and fierce sleet pelted the window panes of her apartment and the wind rattled the casements. Tessa snuggled into the blanket around her shoulders, glad there was no need to go out into the chilly, draughty halls of the Escorial today. The Queen was in bed with a cold and the ladies-in-waiting were not required for the duration.

So far, the winter had been relentlessly cold with driving winds and snow that piled up in drifts, turning the landscape into a sea of white waves. 'It is very pretty, especially,' Tessa thought, 'from the windows inside a warm room with a hot drink in your hand.'

With great anticipation, Tessa pulled the string off the package and unfolded the letter inside. She smiled as she observed it was written on the fine note paper that she had sent to Marta with her other Christmas gifts. 'At least she is putting it to the use I intended,' she thought fondly.

As she began to read, she could almost hear the warm timbre of Marta's voice in the lines. She sighed comfortably and took a sip of the hot spiced wine. Estella had not got the spices quite right yet, but the drink was delicious just the same.

Tessa stopped reading and went back over the lines. A pleasant feeling of gladness spread through her as she reread the words. She wanted to share this with someone, and since Juliana had also taken to bed with a cold, Estella was the only possible audience.

"Listen to this, Estella," Tessa called to the servant who seemed to be fussing with something or other on the far side of the sitting room. "Come and sit by the fire while I read this to you." She never worried about Estella secretly reading her mail as the woman could not read.

She waited until Estella seated herself on the ottoman, then began:

"We have travelled further south than I have ever been into Andalusia. For several weeks, we followed the patternas left by other bands and sometimes camped with them. From them, we heard too many stories to tell you in this letter. They will have to wait until I see you again.

You will be glad to know that my brother, Rafael, caught up to us, having left the Partisans after Wellington took the army across the Pyrenees. My cousin, Pico, has apparently met a young guerrillera in the Partisans and fallen in love. She is a gitana also, so that is all right.

Everywhere we went there was devastation from the war. Even with the money you sent me ... for which gracias, Tessa ... we sometimes found it hard to get enough to eat.

Once we passed into the south, many things were different. The weather was warm and sunny, food was more plentiful. The old people of the band found the warmth a relief for their aches.

The travelling was hard through the Sierra Nevadas, so when we arrived near Granada, we camped for several weeks. Rafael and I went into Granada to look at the city and to trade for food and other needs. It is a beautiful city, Tessa. When we are together again, I hope we can make a visit there.

As beautiful as Granada is, it is the Alhambra that you must see. It is built almost haphazardly on the side of a hill. From a distance, the many rose-coloured buildings seem disconnected. Yet the gardens and greenery of the trees and shrubs bring it together. An astonishing place. I looked and looked at it, thinking of the Moors who built this magnificent palace so long ago.

When we moved on from Granada we travelled all the way to the sea, near a small village called Almeria. That is where we are camped now. This is another area you must see. It has rocky shores with beaches of fine white sand. We have no problem with food now as there is plenty from the sea, and from the local farmers."

Tessa glanced at Estella and smiled. The servant was half-asleep from the heat of the fireplace. 'I will read the rest of the letter to myself,' she thought. Aloud she said, "Estella, why don't you lie on the settee and have a siesta? I must go and write a letter to Marta."

The servant tried to demur, but Tessa pushed her gently onto the small couch and covered her with the blanket. She left her there and went into her bedroom. Its chill made her shiver and she reached for her warm wool cloak and wrapped herself in it.

She sat at her writing desk and after turning up the wick on the lamp, finished reading Marta's letter. An odd feeling, like enviousness, arose in her. It seemed everyone she knew was doing something exciting, even Marta. Tessa tried to imagine the little band camped near the ocean. She longed to be with them, remembering their friendly acceptance of her and their joy of life. It would seem like a holiday. 'And it would be warm,' she thought in irritation as she pulled the robe around her more tightly. While others were living exciting lives, it seemed that she was stuck here while waiting for her life to begin.

Suddenly she smiled, recalling something Marta had once said when Tessa had voiced a similar complaint. "Life is what happens while you are waiting. So live everyday to the fullest." She was sure Marta did live everyday. She had an abundance of joy that no hardship could destroy.

Tessa took out some notepaper from the desk drawer, and dipping her pen into the ink bottle, began to reply to Marta's letter. She paused, wondering what she could tell Marta that would be at all interesting to her. She could not talk about Antonio, nor mention the fiasco with Baltasar or her argument with her uncle. She chuckled then wrote about the fun they had sliding on the frozen pond in front of the Escorial, how the servants and guards had been scandalized when a large group of young people had taken it over and for hours, played and slid on its smooth hard surface. She mentioned how the Queen, hearing the commotion, had come outside to watch. She grinned widely remembering how the Queen had wanted to try it too, so they had fetched a chair, and between them, she and Juliana had pushed Maria Cristina around the frozen pond until they were both breathless and exhausted.

As she wrote, more anecdotes came to her and she thought, 'This is what Marta will want to hear, that I am enjoying myself and not brooding about what cannot be changed.' She ended the letter with affection and assurances that she missed Marta very much, then taking the candle, impressed a red wax seal to close the folded letter.

TBC