Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) (39 page)

"Very well, but you will not like her hearing what I have to say."

"I will chance that."

In Isabel's pacing, she slowly circled Valentina and Rosalia, forcing them to turn to face her. "We all know Marquis is tired of you, English woman," Isabel said at last. "He knows it was a mistake for the two of you to marry. Dona Anna has told me that he has moved out of your bed. Surely you know when you are not wanted."

Anger threatened to choke Valentina. How dare Marquis's mother talk about intimate family problems with an outsider. "I cannot believe my husband would like it if he had overheard you just now, Isabel. What happens between me and my husband is no concern of yours."

Isabel's lip curled in a snarl. "Do you think not? Ask Marquis if the two of us did not meet yesterday. Ask him if we just sat and talked ... or if—"

"Enough," Rosalia interrupted. "How dare you come into this house and utter such vicious lies. Go away." Rosalia did not raise her voice, but she made her point all the same.

Valentina felt hurt and confused. Surely Marquis would never betray her with this woman. He might love Isabel, but he would not ... he could not make love to her.  Dear God, no, she prayed, please let this be a nightmare from which I soon wake.

Isabel saw that she had accomplished what she had intended. "By the way, I overheard your plans to run away with Felipe Martinez, Rosalia. I wonder what a word from me to your mother would do to upset that little scheme."

Rosalia's face whitened. "What are you going to do?"

Isabel's eyes moved to Valentina. "Nothing for now." She looked at Valentina. "Ask Marquis about yesterday, English woman. I happen to know he is moving away from you because he cannot bear to hold you now that he has made love to me."

Hearing Rosalia gasp, Isabel turned away in a swish of green taffeta, and moved hurriedly toward the arched doorway.

Valentina was visibly shaken. She was feeling sick inside and grabbed hold of the iron bars of the birdcage for support.

Rosalia, in spite of her horror, tried to comfort Valentina. "She was lying, Valentina. Marquis would never do what she implied."

Valentina needed to be alone. She knew if she did not run, she was going to be sick right there in the courtyard. "I must go," she said, clamping her hand over her mouth and rushing toward her quarters.

It was late afternoon when Valentina had the opportunity to face Marquis. He was in the stable rubbing down his mount when she entered. With a proud tilt of her head, she approached him.

He watched her, saying nothing. Without any pleasantries or greetings, she asked the question that had been preying on her mind all day.

"I just want to know one thing, Marquis. Did you meet Isabel yesterday?"

He swiped the brush across his horse's hindquarters without looking up. "I already told you I saw her."

"Did anything happen between the two of you?"

"Why would you want to know?"

"I am your wife."

"More went on between me and Isabel yesterday than any wife with pride and self-respect would accept. Take that for what it is worth and leave me in peace."

Without another word, Valentina turned and walked away. She had the answer she had come for. Without fanfare or advance notice, she would be leaving Paraiso del Norte.

Valentina did not know that as soon as she was out of sight, Marquis mounted his horse and rode away. He had decided to search for Jordanna himself.

When Valentina told Salamar what had happened with Isabel and how Marquis had confirmed it later, Salamar did not question her. She merely nodded her head and helped Valentina pack the trunks. Helplessly, she watched Valentina move in a dreamlike state, knowing the hurt she was feeling but unable to comfort her.

Valentina hated sneaking off like a thief in the night, but she did not want to face Marquis and his mother. She would have liked to have said good-bye to Don Alonso and Rosalia, but she dared not risk it.

Salamar had persuaded Carlos to drive her and Valentina to San Francisco. The young Spaniard had promised he would tell no one about taking them until he returned.

After leading the horses to the side of the house, a sad Carlos loaded the trunks and helped Valentina and Salamar into the buggy. Long before the sun came up, they pulled away from the house, heading for San Francisco.

No one questioned their leaving, not that Valentina expected anyone to stop them. She assumed Marquis and his mother would be glad when they learned she had disappeared from their lives. Valentina truly believed she would never see Paraiso del Norte again.

The road to San Francisco was well traveled, and Valentina and Salamar breathed more easily when they had left Vincente land behind. Where the future would lead her, Valentina did not know. She only knew that she could no longer live with Marquis, and he no longer wanted her. Valentina knew her parents would be in San Francisco and she wanted to avoid them until they sailed for England. They had their own life to lead and she had hers. She wanted them to leave California believing she was happily married.

Salamar saw Valentina's troubled expression. Smiling slightly, she patted her hand. "You will soon be returning to Paraiso del Norte, Valentina. You will only stay away until Marquis deserves you."

29

Valentina rapped on the Lawton’s' door and stepped back, waiting for an answer. She dreaded facing the reverend and his sister, but if the cabin was vacant, she wanted to see if she could rent it.

The door swung open and Prudence Lawton glared at Valentina over the rims of her glasses. "I'm not at home to you, miss. You are no fit person to deal with."

"I don't know what you are talking about, Miss Lawton. I came to see if your cabin is available."

"Not to you it isn't." Prudence drew her stingy little mouth up tightly. "You led my brother a merry chase and then broke his heart. He's taken to drinking and hanging out at the Crystal Palace. He's gone plumb crazy, drinking and carousing. Percival is a ruined man, and you're to blame!"

Valentina backed down one step, almost losing her footing, but managing to grab onto the porch post to break her fall. "I never led your brother on, Miss Lawton."

"Sure you did. He told me so. You had all the men chasing after you with their tongues hanging out. You was like a bitch in heat, and from the looks of you," Prudence declared, looking pointedly  at Valentina's rounded stomach, "I'd say you got what you deserved."

Valentina backed down the steps, shaking her head. "You are wrong about me. I am-"

"You go on and get," Prudence said, moving back into the house and slamming the door shut. Valentina was stunned. How could Mr. Lawton have turned from his faith? Why would his sister blame her? She had never encouraged Reverend Lawton in any way. She had not even liked him.

Slowly moving down the path to the street, Valentina walked toward the hotel where Salamar was waiting for her. As she passed the Crystal Palace, she pulled her blue woolen shawl across her face and quickened her steps. She did not want to come face-to-face with Tyree. Since he was Marquis's friend, it would not be fair to place him in the middle of their trouble. Besides, he would ask too many questions she was not ready to answer.

Glancing up the street, she was shocked to see Percival Lawton go reeling into the Crystal Palace. His sister had been right; he was drunk. How could a man who had considered himself so self-righteous and pious fall so far from grace? she wondered. She stepped off the boardwalk into the muddy street, for she definitely did not want Percival Lawton to see her.

Marquis dismounted, tossing the reins to Enrique, issuing him an order. "Rub her down, and do not give her water for at least an hour. I rode her hard when I got my mother's message to come home at once. Cool her down slowly."

Noticing that the mare was lathered, Enrique nodded. "
Si, patron
. Your mother wanted to know the minute you came home. She asked to see you at once."

Marquis had been in Santa Barbara for two weeks. He had ridden away from Paraiso del Norte right after his quarrel with Valentina. "What is wrong?" Marquis asked with dread in his heart. Removing his leather gloves, he slapped them nervously against his thigh. "Raynaldo did not know why my mother sent for me."

The vaquero looped the reins around his hands. "It is very sad,
patron
. Your grandfather . . ."

Fear gripped Marquis's heart. He brushed Enrique aside and rushed to the house. He hardly dared breathe as he raced down the hallway and up the stairs. Stopping before his grandfather's room, he pushed the door open dreading what he would find.

Silence filled the room where only a single candle burned. Marquis stepped to the bed, his eyes glued to his grandfather's face. His heart ached at the frail, blue-veined hands that were crossed over his grandfather's chest. He looked dead.

Dona Anna rose from her kneeling position, dabbing at her eyes. "He is sinking fast, Marquis. He has been asking for you. I feared you would not get here in time. That is why I sent Raynaldo to bring you home."

Marquis touched his grandfather's talonlike hands, finding the skin cold and clammy. "What does Doctor Anza say about his condition?"

Dona Anna lowered her voice. "He says he will not last the night."

Marquis felt his eyes sting with tears. He could remember very little about his father, but his grandfather had always been there for him, teaching him, shaping him so that one-day he would become head of the family. The time was near when Marquis would have to step into the grandee's place. Tonight, as his grief ripped at his insides, he doubted his ability to replace his grandfather.

"Where is Rosalia?" Marquis inquired, wondering why his sister was not present at the death vigil.

Dona Anna's eyes brimmed with tears. "Everything just fell apart after you left, Marquis. Your sister is in disgrace; she no longer belongs to this family."

"What are you saying, Mother?" Marquis was still reeling from the sad news about his grandfather. He wondered what sweet, gentle Rosalia could have done to bring down disgrace upon her head.

"Your sister ran away with Felipe Martinez!" Dona Anna declared. "The shame is almost too much to endure."

Marquis's jaws clamped tightly together. "What do you mean, she ran away with Felipe? Do you not mean his brother, Sergio?"

Dona Anna pressed her handkerchief against her mouth. "No, she has gone back on her word and married Sergio Garza's younger brother, Felipe."

"Where is Valentina?" he asked, wishing he dared go to her. She always brought him comfort. She was like a cool stream running through a burning desert. He had decided in the two weeks he had been away that he could not live without her. He was prepared to go down on his knees and beg her forgiveness if need be. She would have to forgive him when he admitted that nothing had happened between him and Isabel.

Noticing that his mother had not answered him, he asked again. "Why is Valentina not here with Grandfather? He would want her to be here."

"She has gone away," Dona Anna said at last. "I do not know when." There was no satisfaction in his mother's eyes, no joy that her unwanted daughter-in-law had gone away. "We discovered she had gone just after you left."

Marquis felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. Life had dealt him one blow after another—each harder to withstand than the last. He could not deal with another crisis tonight. Dropping to his knees beside his grandfather, he bowed his head in prayer.

The beloved old grandee did not stir or wake. In the early morning hours Don Alonso's soul silently and peacefully slipped the bonds of earth.

It was a bright, sunlit day when Don Alonso was laid to rest in the shadows of the great Sierra Nevada Mountains. He had been well loved. So many people came to pay their last respects that the line stretched half a mile down the road.

Marquis, standing tall and silent, welcomed the guests as the new head of the family. If people wondered why his new wife and younger sister were not in attendance, they were much too wise to ask.

Many friends thought the brooding look in Marquis's eyes was because of the death of his grandfather. Dona Anna knew it was more than that. He was also grieving over his sister's disgrace, and he was haunted by Valentina's disappearance.

Dona Anna knew that after the last guest left, Marquis would leave to search for his sister. For the honor of the Vincente family, he would have to deal with Felipe Martinez. She did not know what her son would do about his missing wife. She was beginning to see that Marquis loved the English woman. Rosalia had told her what terrible things Isabel had said to Valentina. For the first time since her son's marriage, Dona Anna was ashamed of the part she had played in chasing Marquis's wife away.

She now saw things more clearly. Marquis might never have walked if Valentina had not made him. The English woman had believed Marquis would walk even when Doctor Anza had given up hope.

In the following days, Dona Anna watched Marquis ride out each morning to search for his sister. She knew he was torn between having to find Rosalia, and needing to search for Valentina. Dona Anna prayed each day that Marquis would not find his sister until his temper cooled, and that Valentina would come home to stand beside her husband in his time of need.

As Dona Anna stood by the window gazing down at her son in the garden, she could almost feel his hurt. He was living in torment. Tomorrow she would urge him to give up searching for his sister and concentrate on finding his wife.

Spurs jingled and leather creaked as Marquis dismounted in front of the Crystal Palace. His eyes burned with anger as he shoved the swinging doors aside and walked to the bar. "It's nice to see you, senor Vincente," Ted Hutcheson, the bartender, greeted him in a friendly manner.

"Where is your boss?" Marquis asked, reaching for a bottle of whiskey and pouring a liberal amount into a glass. Downing it in one swallow, he waited for an answer.

"Tyree's in his office, I reckon. Leastwise I ain't seen him go out this morning."

Marquis tossed a silver coin on the bar. "You might want to tell Tyree that his whiskey does not go down smoothly. He might want to consider a better quality."

Ted whistled through his teeth. Something had Marquis Vincente all heated up, he mused, figuring Tyree and his friend were in for a tiff.

Marquis shoved open the office door and moved across the room to stand before the desk where Tyree was pouring over a ledger.

Tyree looked up, his brows coming together. "Marquis, I'm glad you are here. I heard about your grandfather, but it was too late to pay my last respects. You know how I felt about the old grandee. We will all miss him."

Marquis slapped his leather gloves against the palm of his hand. "You might be interested to know that when his will was read, my grandfather left you five thousand dollars, and two hundred acres of river bottomland."

Tyree shook his head. "I'll not take it, Marquis. I can't accept such a generous gift."

Marquis leaned closer and flicked a stack of papers. "It was his to give. If I were you, I would accept it."

Tyree was becoming aware that something was bothering Marquis. There was something in his cool manner that he could not define. Was it anger? "Where is that lovely wife of yours? Did you bring her to town with you?"

Marquis's eyes narrowed to dark slits. "Do you take me for a fool?"

Tyree puffed on his cigar. "I have taken you for a fool on occasion—especially lately."

"I do not find you as amusing as I once did, Tyree. You were like a brother to me. Now, I would hesitate to turn my back on you."

Tyree came to his feet. "I think you had better explain what you mean. I still consider you my friend, however much you abuse the privilege." Picking up a bottle from the side table, Tyree poured Marquis a drink and extended it to him.

"Where is she, Tyree?" Marquis pushed his hand away. "I did not come here today to drink your cheap whiskey or play games."

Tyree lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. "This happens to be very good whiskey . . . and I leave the playing of games to you."

"You haven't answered my question."

"What was the question, Marquis?"

"Where is Valentina?"

Tyree set the glass on his desk, looking puzzled. No, he thought, this was not a game. "If you have misplaced your wife, why would you expect me to know where she is?”

"In the name of past friendship, give me the courtesy of telling me the truth."

"I don't consider our friendship in the past, Marquis, but I get the feeling you do. When last we met, I thought our friendship was still intact. What happened to change your mind?"

"Do not make me say it, Tyree. At this moment it takes all my willpower to keep from slamming you against the wall. I know Valentina and you were lovers. It is only natural that she would come to you."

Tyree gritted his teeth. "You bastard, Marquis," he said, moving around the desk within reach of Marquis. "If you don't think highly of me, the least you could do is have more faith in Valentina. I am not now, nor have I ever been, her lover. I have not seen her since the night I spent at Paraiso del Norte."

"I know about your little meeting with my wife that night in the garden, when you both thought I was asleep," Marquis bit out.

"Did Valentina tell you?"

"No, I saw you with my own eyes."

"Then you must have heard what we were discussing. I'm sure Valentina is glad it's out in the open. You are a fool if you drove her away, Marquis."

"I somehow get the feeling you and I are not having the same conversation, Tyree. You are saying one thing and I am hearing another. If Valentina did not come to you, then where is she?"

"As God is my witness, Marquis, I have not seen Valentina in three months. If she has disappeared, I believe you should be concerned, because, to my knowledge, she didn't come to San Francisco."

"Are you telling the truth?"

"I swear it. If you like, I'll help you search for her. I'm as worried as you are about her. Why didn't you come to me sooner?”

Marquis sank down in a chair. "So much has happened, Tyree. If I am wrong about you and Valentina, then what were the two of you talking about that night in the garden?"