Dennis Wheatley - The Rising Storm

Roger's eyes met Georgina's with no less wicked mirth, as he murmured: "So the pretty Sara told the story to her gossips afterwards, eh! Well, I can show you the reverse of that medal. I was in Naples last November. The story is true enough in essence, though I won Madame Goudar to the project without paying her anything for her trouble; but I was the Englishman concerned."

All the laughter left Georgina's face. "Roger!" she exclaimed. "You do not mean . . . you cannot mean that you are in love with the Condesa! 'Tis impossible to believe that morose, black-browed sack of bones to be the Spanish beauty of whom you wrote to me last summer. I pray you assure me swiftly that it is not of her that you have come to speak to me tonight."

"It is of her; and I .consider your description of her most ungener­ous," Roger said stiffly. "If we are to criticize one another's taste I will frankly express my amazement that you should have set your heart upon a wooden-headed barber's block. Aye, and far worse, a potential murderer."

"Roger! What are you saying? I was indeed at fault in disparaging your lady's looks; but you must be out of your senses to make such an accusation against an honourable gentleman."

Fishing the letter from Isabella, that had reached him in London, out of his inner pocket, Roger handed it to Georgina. "I pray you read that. 'Tis the prime reason for my coming to Spain."

Georgina read the letter through carefully, then she said: "From this I gather that you asked her to run away with you when you were in Naples, and she refused to do so because she was carrying Diego's child. That does her credit; but 'tis my opinion that she repented of it afterwards and ..."

"Go on," he prompted.

"You will not take offence at what I am about to say?"

"Nay. You know well that no honest opinion of yours could ever offend me seriously."

"Then 'tis my belief that, having repented her decision, she feared that after four months your ardour might have cooled; so invented this preposterous story of the poison, as a certain means of bringing you back to her side through its appeal to your chivalry."

He nodded. "You may be right; or it may be that young Quetzal misunderstood something said to him by his friend the witch. It may even be that the boy is lying, for I know that he greatly dislikes Don Diego; but I doubt that from all I know of him. I admit that discovering you to be the Englishwoman referred to instantly shook my own belief. But tell me this. Have you at any time given Don Diego reason to suppose that you would marry him if he were free?"

"Never. Though 'tis possible that he may have put a wrong con­struction on remarks that I have made as to thoughts about my own future. You know of old how ambitious I have always been; and how I vowed as a girl that I'd be a Duchess before my hair turned grey. 'Tis now two years since Humphrey's death, and I have recently felt that I would like to marry again. If I do it shall be nothing less than an Earl this time, and one with prospects sufficient for me to have good hopes of raising him to higher rank through my powerful political connections. Diego naturally takes it ill that, being a widow, I will not grant him his desires. So I have fobbed him off by telling him of my ambitions, and vowing that I will lie with no man again until I once more enter a marriage bed. That would give a possible basis for this story; but, even so, I cannot bring myself to believe it."

"I now doubt it, too. Yet for Isabella's sake I must act as though I thought her right, and take steps to prevent any possibility of so ghastly an outcome to her fears."

"You feel, then, definitely committed to elope with her?"

"In view of all that lies between us, I am resolved upon it."

"Oh, Roger! I know well the mad acts that love at times impels us to. But is there no other way for you in this? Think, dearest! In these Catholic countries there is no divorce; and I greatly doubt her ever getting an annulment of her marriage. She might have had she eloped with you in Naples and later concealed the birth of her child. But since she has had her infant here it can no longer be pleaded that the mar­riage was never consummated. Think of your future. A man of your parts might rise to any height; but what future can there be for you if you are tied for life to a woman who is not your wife ?"

"I know it, and am resigned to that. We shall have to live quietly —under an assumed name perhaps. But we love one another, so we shall be happy."

Georgina sighed. "I wish that I could think it. But passion is not enough; not even if the bond of intellect goes with it. She has a kind of bookish cleverness, but not a spark of humour. And, Roger dear, I know you so well. After a twelvemonth you would be desperate miserable with any woman who could not laugh with you over the silly, stupid sort of things that cause so much merriment to happy baggages like myself."

The thought of Amanda Godfrey suddenly came into his mind. She, too, was a "happy baggage" who would never lack things in life at which to laugh. Then he realized that the thought of her had come to him owing to Georgina's use of the phrase "a bookish cleverness". Amanda had used it in describing to him the mentality of the cousin whom she had no cause to love. After a second, he replied:

"Making every allowance for my predilection where Isabella is concerned, I think you unjust in your estimate of her. The fact that she is exceptionally well educated for a woman is no demerit. That she is serious-minded by nature, I grant you; but she has great integrity and a most sweet and charming disposition."

"Mayhap you are right." The splendid rings on Georgina's hands glittered as she fluttered them in a little, helpless gesture. "I hardly know her, so am not properly qualified to judge."

Roger looked puzzled. "But did I not understand that you accom­panied the Sidonia y Ulloas from Naples? If so you must have been in their intimate company during a journey occupying the best part of a month."

"Nay; you are wrong in that. Papa and I met them in Naples and Don Diego began to pay his court to me at once. Naturally I met his Condesa in society, but saw no more of her than I would have of any other wife in similar circumstances. When Diego asked us to visit them in Spain she joined her formal invitation to his pressing one; but we journeyed by different routes. Papa wished to visit Gibraltar, so we arrived here from the South, whereas they came the shorter way via Valencia, and reached Madrid a fortnight before us. On our arrival the Condesa had already left for the, country and Don Diego installed us in this charming pavilion, so we did not see her again until we accompanied him to his castle for the birth and celebrations. But tell me, Roger, about the origin of your affaire with her."

"It was just a year ago at/Fontainebleau . . ." he began; and when he had told the tale their talk led from one thing to another ranging over their experiences in the past year, so it was three o'clock in the morning before they parted.

When they did so Roger was convinced that although Georgina had no thought at all of devoting her future to Don Diego her feeling for him was deeper than most that she experienced; since, much as she wanted to get back to Stillwaters, she had already lingered in Spain on his account longer than she had at first intended, and was still putting off the date of her return from reluctance to break with him. And it was very unlike the strong-minded Georgina to allow her plans to be upset by her love affairs.

Georgina was equally convinced that Roger was caught up in a grande passion for Isabella, and that nothing would now deter him from going through with their elopement. Much as she deplored it as ruinous to his future prospects, she had, out of loyalty, agreed to do everything she could to help him, and she was admirably situated to do so. Roger's first fence was the difficulty of securing a meeting with Isabella alone, so that they could concert a plan, and Georgina had agreed to bring her to the pavilion at the siesta hour the following day, which would enable the two lovers to spend the whole afternoon together.