Manuel turned and saw a woman step forward. He hadn’t noticed her earlier. She wore an old-fashioned nurse’s uniform of sturdy white cotton with long sleeves. Bulky stockings of the same color covered her legs, and a starched cap was perched upon a short dull hairdo lacquered in place like a helmet. The aroma of spray perfume hovering about her brought to his mind the unpleasant sickly-sweet odor of his elderly aunt.
The employee laid out the tea service on the table before them, poured tea for each of them, herself included, and placed cups before them. She took a seat across from the dowager and said nothing.
“Do you have children, se?or Ortigosa?”
He shook his head.
“No, of course, I suppose not. Then allow me say that you’re more fortunate than I.” She took a small sip of tea. “Despite all that the popular press has to say on the subject, most of the time children are a disappointment. Few people would ever admit it, of course, I suppose because they consider their children’s failures to be their own. Such is not my case. I do not blame myself in the least for their failings. Believe me when I say that all their shortcomings come from their father. My husband was perfectly incompetent in almost everything: finances, the children’s education . . .” She turned toward the nurse. “How could I blame myself for unacceptable behavior such as that we just witnessed?”
The nurse nodded gravely.
“Even so, I ask you to forgive him. He’s never had a sense of proportion; he’s a moron. The poor fool had convinced himself that now with his brother dead, perhaps he would be given the management of our affairs; a responsibility for which, allow me to say, he is totally unfit. We are fortunate that his brother was more apt.”
“You mean to say you approve of álvaro’s decision?”
“I mean to say that although my husband was riddled with shortcomings, one virtue did stand out: that of knowing to whom to entrust his affairs. I suppose that is an innate virtue of the ancient nobility, a quality acquired over the course of centuries. Otherwise how could one explain the continuation of such great houses when we’ve been forced to confide even the simplest matters to third parties? If it hadn’t been for their unerring instincts for delegation, the Spanish aristocracy would have died out long ago. My husband made álvaro his heir, which was the proper choice. I must therefore assume that the same inherited capacity was behind álvaro’s decision to put you in the seat of command.”
Manuel considered her declaration. Was that what had happened? Perhaps a candidate’s outstanding qualifications could indeed outweigh any other considerations, even when the individual was as despised as álvaro had been. “I understand that the relations between álvaro and his father were not exactly the best.”
“Not exactly the best,” the marquess chuckled maliciously and looked at the nurse. “Se?or Ortigosa, tell me, what is the opinion of your own parents concerning your . . . what is the expression? . . . your tendency? I expect that you’re not going to tell me they’re among those unhappy souls who pretend to accept your aberration.”
Manuel very carefully placed his cup and saucer back on the table, sat back on the sofa, and met her gaze with calm assurance. “I’m sure that they would have referred to it as ‘homosexuality,’ which is the correct term, but they did not have the opportunity. My parents died in an accident when I was very small.”
That did not faze her. “The more fortunate for them. Believe me, I envy them, and why not? álvaro’s relationship with his father was not exactly a good one, and the fault was not that of my husband. álvaro was a constant headache from the day he was born, and one could say that he took a malevolent delight in opposing us in everything. The upshot was that I had two sons who were gutless and one who made up for both of them but took the wrong path.”
Manuel shook his head slowly as he heard her.
“Go ahead and say it,” she challenged and provoked him. “Say what you’re thinking.”
“I think you’re a perverted, unnatural monster.”
The marquess chortled as if she’d heard a good joke. She gave the nurse a look of disbelief. “Did you hear that? He called me unnatural! Me!”
The nurse smiled scornfully, as if she’d heard something completely absurd.
“A deviant, a coward, and a mental midget so spoiled by his father he never grew up.” Her tone had changed; her voice was bitter. “Those are my sons. God didn’t grant me a daughter, and that’s the cross I’ve had to bear. Three incompetents unable even to give me a proper heir.”
“Samuel,” murmured Manuel almost under his breath, knowing she was referring to the child.
“Correct.” She leaned toward the nurse as if explaining. “Little bastard Samuel. You know what they say, se?or Ortigosa: the children of my daughters are certainly mine, but the children of my daughters-in-law are not necessarily so.”
Manuel was astonished and disgusted by such crudeness. “You are despicable!”
“Well, I suppose it depends upon your point of view,” the dowager marquess answered with a faint smile. “Those are exactly my feelings concerning you.”
“And Catarina?”
“Catarina’s a girl from a good family who have suffered financial reverses. But we’re none of us immune to such things, are we?” She gestured indifferently toward herself. “Even so, she’s an aristocrat with a good upbringing and more heart than many men. She knows her place in this house better than anyone. I have no idea what she could possibly have seen in my son.”
“And you will consider Catarina’s child to be your proper grandchild?”
Her face screwed up in a grimace of extreme disgust. She flung her cup and saucer on the table. They clattered but didn’t break. “Catarina’s worth far more than my son. She’s the only person in this house, other than myself, who knows her proper place. Would that she’d been my daughter; I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to trade all three of them for her.”
Manuel’s head moved from side to side as he disagreed, unable to comprehend this vileness.
“You see me as a monster, se?or Ortigosa? You think I’m cruel? Then consider this: if my husband appointed álvaro to run the affairs of our estate, it wasn’t out of a benevolent heart but because the marquis smelled in him the cruelty and strength required to preserve his legacy, our family line, and everything it represents. At any cost. And I assure you,” she said, sitting erect and holding her head as if wearing a crown, “álvaro didn’t disappoint. He achieved all we expected of him and more. So if you see me as a soulless monster, know that your beloved álvaro far exceeded me. He didn’t disappoint. His father knew he wouldn’t, because he’d proved himself capable of it before. He would not flinch from doing whatever was required, no matter what. He proved that long ago.” She took her time and looked him up and down. “No matter how abhorrent I find it, I must accept that if álvaro judged you should become the heir of everything, he had his reasons. I shall accept his decision, and so shall we all. Take no heed of Santiago; today’s incident was merely the tantrum of a spoiled child. He will get over it, and he will understand that this is the best solution for us all.”
The unpredictable behavior of this elderly woman, this veering from extreme contempt to flattery, seemed to him both ill and unhinged. This was like trying to converse with a lunatic. She was placid and conciliatory once again, and she spoke without smiling. But her tone was vibrant, with the steely determination and inbred tradition of a bloodline that dated back many generations.
“You’ll be faced with no confrontations or legal quibbles from our side, so you will be free to spend your time picking grapes and playing at making wine if that’s what amuses you,” she commented, revealing she was aware of his visits to the vineyards and the winery.