Lucy Gordon - The Stand-In Bride

He dipped his hand and raised it, so that the water streamed down, leaving just a little cupped in his palm, until he opened his fingers, allowing it to trickle away. In the moonlight it glittered like magic, holding Maggie’s gaze, almost hypnotising her. ‘You can turn the symbolism any way you like,’ he said.

She could watch the water for ever, feeling the peace invade her bones. This was a magic place, and it would be fatally easy to surrender to that magic. She too slid her hand into the water and lifted it high, fascinated by the droplets. Sebastian took her fingers between his, holding them lightly.

‘Thank you for everything,’ he said. ‘For calming Isabella’s fears and befriending Catalina, for being wise and strong.’

Through the cold water she could feel the warmth of his hand, holding hers in a grip whose power was concealed but inescapable. She tried to speak, but couldn’t. Something was impeding her breathing.

‘I think you belong in an enclosed garden,’ he said.

‘Shut away from the world?’ she asked, struggling to escape the spell. ‘Not me.’

‘No, not shut away. You would bring the world inside with you, and contain it here in your hand, and the man who came seeking truth and wisdom would find it in you. Then he could truly shut out the rest of the world, having all he needed here.’

The words were ravishing, seductive, seeming to swim in the air. With an effort Maggie gave herself a little mental shake. ‘Is it wise to make so much of symbolism?’ she asked softly. ‘If we blind ourselves with symbols, where is the reality?’

‘I wonder which reality you are speaking of?’

‘Is there more than one?’

‘There are a million, and each man chooses his own.’

‘Each man, perhaps,’ she said wryly. ‘But how often can a woman choose? Mostly she has a man’s reality forced upon her.’

‘Was it forced on you? Or did you choose it freely-and then find that you had chosen in blindness?’

‘Aren’t all choices made in blindness? And we discover too late.’ She gave a little shiver.

‘You should have been more sensibly dressed to come out here,’ Sebastian told her. Swiftly he removed his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. Unconsciously she sighed at the warmth. ‘If you become ill I shall be in disfavour with my bride. She’s already angry with me for “brutally forcing” you-her words-to come here, where your heart will be broken by memories of your great lost love.’

‘Oh, dear! I’ve told her not to see me through a filter of tragic romance.’

‘You’re wasting your time. She loves seeing you that way. Next she’ll be wanting you to wander the streets of Granada, seeking out the places you knew with him.’

Suddenly she was aware of danger. It had been there all the time, but he’d managed to make her ignore it until almost too late. She stepped back from him. ‘You are wasting your time, Don Sebastian. I don’t discuss my husband with Catalina, and I won’t discuss him with you.’

‘And yet you came to Andalucia to find him-or to be finally rid of him. I wonder which.’

‘You can go on wondering. It is none of your business.’

‘That was what you meant by ghosts, wasn’t it?’

‘Please drop this subject.’

‘How angry you become when he is mentioned!’

‘Neither is my anger any of your business!’

‘Then let me give you a word of advice. If you wish to keep your secrets, hide your anger. It reveals too much about you.’

The last of the spell vanished. How dare he think he could bemuse her with his pretty nonsense about gardens and truth!

‘You know nothing about me,’ she said firmly, ‘except that I can be useful to you. That’s all you need to know, and all you will ever know. My “secrets” don’t concern you, my private life doesn’t concern you, and if you ever mention this again I will walk out.’

She was dismayed to find herself trembling. To hide it from him she began to turn away, but he detained her with a hand on her arm.

‘I’m sorry. I hadn’t realised it was as painful as that.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Goodnight, Don Sebastian.’

‘Don’t go yet.’

‘I said goodnight.’

His fingers tightened on her arm. But he found himself holding nothing. Maggie had slipped away, leaving him holding the empty jacket.

The time before the wedding was short, and Catalina’s first priority was a visit to Señora Diego, a dressmaker in Granada, where she would find a selection of bridal gowns to choose from. The car was ready to take them early next day, and on the journey Maggie noted wryly that the girl’s mood had changed again. The gloom of the previous evening had vanished, replaced by excitement at the thought of an expensive shopping trip.

Catalina tried on dress after dress, until at last the three of them agreed on a garment of lace that enhanced her delicate attractions. It was a little too large, but the alterations could be made at once. Catalina flopped down, worn out by her exertions, and prepared to gorge herself on sticky cakes until she was needed for a fitting.

‘Would you mind if I left you for a moment?’ Maggie asked. ‘I’ll be back in an hour.’

Catalina, her mouth full, waved her off, and Maggie slipped away. She’d been taken aback to find that the gown shop was only a few streets from the place where Roderigo’s business had been located. Now it seemed an excellent chance to lay a ghost. Just two more streets, then one…

At the last moment she almost changed her mind, but something drove her on to turn the corner, and there it was, the building she had once viewed with such dread, wondering what lies it was sheltering, what bills it was generating for her to pay.

It was different now, neater, more prosperous looking. Whoever had taken it over had made a success. The name over the door was José Ruiz, which struck a chord.

Suddenly the door opened and an extremely handsome young man stepped out. As his eyes fell on her an expression of pure delight spread over his face.

‘Maggie!’ he cried, advancing on her with outstretched hands. He stopped before her. ‘Don’t you remember me?’

Then she recognised him as the young cousin who had been constantly in and out of her home with Roderigo. ‘José!’ she said, pleased. ‘For a moment I didn’t recognise you.’

‘I was a boy then, now I am a man,’ he said proudly.

The years from nineteen to twenty-three had been kind to José. He had filled out. His shoulders were broader, the set of his head more mature, but there was still laughter in his eyes.

‘I’m so glad to see you again,’ he told her. ‘I’ve always remembered how kind you were to me.’

Somebody jostled them on the pavement and he took her arm. ‘There’s a little place in the next street where we can have coffee.’

When they were seated he said, ‘I thought you would never come back here.’

‘I never meant to. It’s only chance that brought me.’

She explained about her employment and José’s eyes widened. ‘I have heard of Don Sebastian, of course. Who in these parts has not? He is a great man.’

‘Hm! That’s as may be. I could find other words. I don’t think you’d like him any more than I do.’

‘Like?’ José seemed mildly shocked. ‘But Maggie, he is a man of authority, of respect, of power . His land-holdings are vast, he has orange and lemon groves, vineyards. One does not dare to like or dislike such a man. One merely prays not to come under his disapproval.’

‘I’ve no patience with that kind of talk. He’s a man like any other. As a matter of fact I have come under his disapproval, but that’s fine, because he’s come under mine .’