The Stand-In Bride

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SEBASTIAN had been wrong in thinking that Maggie hadn’t noticed his preoccupation the night before. She’d seen it, and she’d also guessed that he hadn’t stayed up to work. So when he returned home that afternoon with a heavy step, she was ready for him.

‘What is it?’ she asked, rising and coming to stand before him, searching his face.

Until this moment, he’d thought there was still doubt about what he would say. Now he knew the decision had already been taken, because there was no way he could lie to her.

‘What has happened, Sebastian? Where have you been?’

‘With a man called Hugo Ordonez. He has extensive contacts with the police. I went to ask him about Miguel Vargas, who was arrested the other day for killing a policeman.’

She became very still. ‘Do you mean the man who gave evidence at Roderigo’s trial?’

‘Yes. Now it seems that evidence was false. It was Vargas himself who committed the attack on Felipe.’

She stared. ‘What are you saying?’

The words almost choked him. ‘I’m saying that Roderigo was innocent. Vargas was the guilty man.’

‘Vargas said that?’

‘Yes.’

‘But why would he?’

‘Because he has nothing to lose. He’s facing a life sentence, and he knows that this admission will cause trouble for the police but none for him.’

He couldn’t be sure how much she had taken in. It was almost as though she were holding the news away from her, the better to examine it, and perhaps defend herself from it.

‘And you think he’s really the man who attacked Felipe?’ she asked at last, slowly.

‘I’m sure of it. Felipe saw Vargas’ face on television on the day he was arrested, and managed to tell Carlos that he was the man. Maggie-!’

Her face had gone so white that he feared she was about to faint. He reached for her but she backed away, clutching a table to hold herself upright.

‘Roderigo was innocent,’ she said in a dazed voice. ‘He was telling the truth all the time? No-that can’t be right. It can’t be!’ The words were a plea.

‘I’m afraid it is, though.’

‘Oh, dear God!’ she whispered. ‘What am I going to do?’

‘You don’t have to do anything. I’ll start the proceedings for clearing his name-’

But she hadn’t meant that, he realised when he saw her desperate eyes. What was she to do now with her memories and her fears?

She began pacing up and down. ‘All this time,’ she was saying half to herself, ‘all this time I hated him-and he was innocent-’

‘You didn’t just hate him because of this,’ he reminded her. ‘Even without it, he’s still the man who took you for a very nasty ride.’

‘I know, I know. I’m trying to be sensible about it, but it’s hard. I deserted him, don’t you see? If I’d stayed…’

‘Maggie, he brought it on himself.’

She whirled on him. ‘Did he bring it on himself that Vargas lied?’

‘Yes,’ he shouted. ‘How did he know Vargas in the first place? Because they were fellow criminals. If he’d been an honest man, they’d never have met. Yes, he brought it on himself, and if you were thinking straight you’d see that.’

‘How do you expect me to think straight when I can hear him in my head, begging me not to leave? I could cope with that when I thought him guilty, but- Oh, God! what shall I do now? If I’d stayed-fought for him-he might have had the will to live.’

‘And he would have lived in prison. There was nothing to clear him, then. Vargas only confessed now because he’s dead. You couldn’t have freed him by staying.’

‘But he begged me to believe him,’ she cried, turning away, ‘and I just assumed the worst.’

‘Because he’d given you ample cause.’

When she didn’t answer, something snapped in Sebastian. He seized her shoulders and pulled her around to face him. ‘Listen to me,’ he said fiercely, ‘I’ve known you as a strong, sensible woman. That’s how you’ve always wanted me to see you. Well, act like one. See him as he was, a waster and a scoundrel who lived off you and broke your heart. Don’t give him a halo because he was innocent of this one crime. That’s a piece of sentimentality I didn’t expect from you.’

She stared at him, seeming dumbfounded. Sebastian had the dreadful feeling of fighting a mist. Nothing he said or did seemed to have any effect, and as his fear mounted it expressed itself as anger.

‘You had the guts to fight me,’ he shouted, giving her a little shake. ‘Why haven’t you got the guts to fight him? How much do you want to fight him?’

‘Wh-what?’

‘Why don’t you admit it?’ he demanded bitterly. ‘He’s still the one. It’s true, isn’t it?’

‘No-what are you saying?-of course it isn’t true.’

‘Words,’ he snapped. ‘Everything about your actions tell me you’re still holding him in your heart.’

‘Suppose I was?’ she raged. ‘Would you have any right to complain? You married me to ease your pride. Well, you got what you wanted. My feelings are none of your business. Now, leave me alone!’

She ran out of the room, leaving Sebastian alone, looking at the wreckage of what he had done.

He never knew where she went, and she never told him of the hours she had spent wandering in the further reaches of the grounds. There was nobody out here to see her violent storms of weeping, followed by trembling calm as she fought to get control of her dreadful thoughts. He’d been innocent, and she’d deserted him.

‘He’s still the one. It’s true, isn’t it?’

No, it isn’t! Don’t look at me like that-as though you saw what I was too appalled to see!

Then another burst of weeping, which went on until she was too tired to cry any more.

In the early evening she went in search of Sebastian and found him in his study.

‘We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean,’ she said.

Tell me you didn’t mean it.

His smile was constrained. ‘I only wanted to help you through this. I probably did it clumsily, for which I apologise.’

Tell me you no longer love him.

‘No, no, you’re right,’ she said, ‘about me building him up now. It’s just a matter of common sense.’ She smiled. ‘Just give me a little time to get my head around this.’

‘Margarita, don’t pretend just because you feel you have to. I’m your husband. If this is hard for you, I want to share it.’

‘You and me? Share this?’ She gave a small choking laugh.

‘Don’t,’ he begged. ‘Don’t shut me out.’

‘I’m not,’ she said, too quickly. ‘There’s nothing to shut you out from. I’m all right about it, really I am. It won’t make any difference to us.’

His heart sank. He heard the sensible words, and saw her smile, as bright as a shield. And they were like a door slammed in his face.

A week later, Sebastian came into the room as Maggie was setting down the telephone. ‘What is it?’ he asked, seeing her face.

‘I was talking to my landlord, in England. He wants to know what’s going to happen. When I left I paid two months rent in advance, but I have to decide what I’m going to do now.’

‘What is there to decide?’ he asked quietly. ‘You’re my wife. This is your home now.’

‘Yes, of course, I just meant- there are things to be sorted out. When I left, I only meant to be away for a few weeks. You have to spend some time in Seville, so it’s a good time for me to return to England to arrange matters.’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘I think I may have some overdue library books. The fines must have mounted by now.’

His silence had a bleak quality, as though a dark cloud had settled over him. Looking at his face she saw in it everything that was passing through his mind.

‘Call your landlord,’ he said at last. ‘He can return your books. I’ll send someone to collect your things-’

‘No-I don’t want anyone else going through my belongings. And I have people I must see-old friends-I need to say goodbye-’

‘Is it goodbye you’ll be saying?’

‘Of course,’ she said, too quickly.

A tremor shook him. ‘Don’t go, Margarita. It can all be done by others.’

‘I don’t-I want to do it myself.’

‘Very well,’ he said after a moment. ‘When will you leave?’

‘The sooner the better.’

He drove her to Malaga Airport himself, that very day. Inside the terminal he took her bags and waited while she checked in. Their manner to each other was calmly correct. There was nothing in Sebastian’s appearance to suggest that he was consumed by hideous fear.

He came with her as far as he could. ‘How long will you be gone?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she said with difficulty. ‘How long do these things take?’

‘Not very long, if somebody wants to hurry home. I wonder how much you want to hurry.’

‘Sebastian-’

‘Are you coming back to me?’ He was holding her hand tightly.

‘If I said I wasn’t-what would you do?’

His clasp tightened. ‘Margarita-’

A crowd was trying to press through. ‘Hurry along there, miss. It’s the last call.’

The crowd surged. Her hand was free. She didn’t know how or why it had happened. Her last view was of Sebastian, reaching out to her across the barrier, touching only air, his face full of a terrible question. She thought he called her name, but she couldn’t be sure, and then she could no longer see him.

As the plane landed in London, Maggie realised how badly she was looking forward to being back in her own little flat. It was small and shabby but it was the place where she was herself. It would welcome her.

But just at first, it didn’t. She shivered at the cold as soon as she stepped inside. But of course, the heating had been off throughout the winter. She could soon have it warm again. Quickly she put on all the lights and switched on the central heating. As she felt the air grow warmer she looked around, trying to take pleasure in surroundings as familiar as old friends. Her books, her CDs, everything spoke of her taste, her personality.

But her personality seemed to have undergone a change. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been when she left here. That woman lived in the past, the more intensely because she was trying to flee it. She had met Sebastian, disliked him, challenged him, been drawn to him against her will.

Now she was standing on a bridge. A future beckoned but it was still misty, and the past hadn’t released her. With Sebastian she’d known the heat of desire, the unexpected thrill of anger. She ought to have left him behind, but he was here with her, filling the silence. He’d never been in this place, but somehow she had brought him with her. Once she had been pursued by Roderigo’s ghost. Now, mysteriously, it was Sebastian who haunted her.

Whatever she did, his face was there. Sometimes it was hard and judgmental, as she’d seen it on their wedding night, blaming her. But that expression faded soon-as it had done at the time, she realised-and there was a new Sebastian, shocked by her wretchedness, concerned, puzzled, gentle. This was the man who’d stayed with her on the Wall of Death, refusing to leave her side while she was in danger. No coldness or insult had driven him away, she recalled with a faint smile. Not like Roderigo, who would have flounced off in a sulk with far less provocation.

That same Sebastian was there with her as she curled up on the sofa, listening to music with the lights out. In the darkness she might have been sitting on the sofa in the hotel at Sol y Nieve, where he had carried her in the bathrobe and dried her feet.

This was the other Sebastian, the one she’d longed to know, to set beside the autocrat. And now she saw that when she’d met him, she hadn’t even recognised him.

‘I had to leave you to know how much I love you,’ she murmured. ‘And if I return to you-will I love you still? Which man will you be then?’

But then she felt someone else there, a bitter unwelcome presence, reproaching her for her desertion, forbidding her to love again.

‘Go away!’ she screamed. ‘I can’t help you now.’

Hurriedly she put the light on and looked around, shivering. But she was alone.

Sebastian stayed in Seville on parliamentary business until the last moment, then returned home just as February slipped into March. There was a pleasurable expectancy in the household, for this month would see Sebastian’s birthday, the first since his marriage, and naturally Donna Margarita would wish to make a big celebration. If only she would return soon and start giving instructions.

Working late in his study, Sebastian studied the calendar, noting uneasily how close the day was becoming. If his wife failed to be there, it would announce to the world that something was badly wrong, and his fierce pride rebelled at the thought.

But perhaps she didn’t know the date? What could be more natural than that he should call, ask how she was, and slip it into the conversation? It needn’t sound like pleading, not if he phrased it carefully.

He got as far as dialling, but at the first ring he slammed the receiver down, driven by sheer masculine stubbornness more than anything. To hell with it! To hell with her, if she could treat him like this!

He put his head in his hands.

He could hear Alfonso moving about outside, and called him. ‘Do you know where Catalina is?’

‘I, Señor?’ The young man responded a fraction too quickly, and when he appeared the flush of embarrassment on his face told its own story.

‘Yes, you. You’re the one who follows her movements the most accurately.’ He added wryly, ‘Are you having any success?’

‘No, Señor,’ Alfonso replied despondently.

‘No.’ Sebastian added under his breath, ‘That seems to be the common ailment around here.’

‘Señor?’

‘Nothing. See if you can find her.’

Alfonso was gone a long time and when he returned he reported awkwardly that Catalina had vanished.

‘You mean she’s gone out?’

‘She didn’t order a car.’

‘Then she’s still here somewhere.’

After ten minutes searching it was Alfonso who discovered Catalina in the bird garden, concealed behind some trees. She was not alone.

‘Why are you spying on us?’ she demanded fiercely.

‘Señorita-please-’ he said in dismay.

‘All right, Alfonso. I’ll take over from here,’ Sebastian said, appearing behind him. ‘Good evening, Señor Ruiz.’

‘Good evening,’ José replied with as much dignity as he could muster. ‘If I could explain-’

‘No, don’t explain,’ Catalina said defiantly. ‘Our love is nobody’s business but our own.’

‘You may be right,’ Sebastian said surprisingly. ‘But you should have let him say it, Catalina. I wanted to see you so that you could send for him. Señor Ruiz, no doubt my wife has told you that your cousin has been cleared?’

‘She has.’

‘Come to my study in ten minutes. That will give you time to wipe the lipstick off your face. I have things to say to you, and then I wish to listen while you do the talking.’

‘You mean-about my prospects-to support a wife?’

‘That can wait until another time. Tonight I want you to tell me everything you can remember about your cousin. There are questions that I should have asked long ago, but I was too proud. Had I not been-’ A shadow, as if of pain, crossed his face. ‘Well, some mistakes can be put right and others can only be lived with. Perhaps we never know the difference until it is too late.’

The second day became the third, the fourth, a week had passed. Maggie packed away her belongings, tidied up all loose ends until the only thing left to do was give up her apartment. She put that off for a day, and then another. She wondered if Sebastian would telephone her. Perversely she even wished he was there, bracing her with an argument, laying down the law as of old, even making her angry.

Perhaps he would call to remind her that it was his birthday soon. In that country where proper appearances mattered so much, her absence would cause sniggering gossip of exactly the kind he dreaded. But the phone remained silent, and she understood. He was leaving her to make her own decision with no pressure of any kind.

In the end she found that the decision had already been made, not by her, and not then, but at some moment in the past that she couldn’t pinpoint. She waited to be sure, then gave up her apartment, arranged for her belongings to be sent on, and caught the next plane to Malaga.

She told nobody that she was coming, and it was late in the evening when the taxi drove through the gates of the Residenza. She entered the house quietly, looking in on Catalina and Isabella, but only for a moment.

‘Thank goodness you’re home!’ Catalina exclaimed. ‘He’s been like a bear, working into the small hours and growling at everyone. He’s in his study now. Poor Alfonso is half dead.’

Poor Alfonso certainly looked up gratefully as Maggie appeared in the doorway of the anteroom where he had his desk. He beamed but she put her finger over her lips.

‘Alfonso,’ Sebastian called through the half-open door, ‘are you going to be all night with that file?’

Alfonso hurriedly picked up the file but Maggie took it from him and slipped into the study. Sebastian was in his shirt-sleeves and looked not at all like an autocrat, just a weary man with a headache, who needed his bed but was uneasily reluctant to seek it. Maggie noticed that the couch looked rumpled, and she guessed that he’d been mostly living in this room. Beside him on the desk was an empty wine glass and a half-full bottle. Suddenly her heart ached for him.

‘Bring it over here quickly,’ Sebastian said without looking up.

She came quietly to the edge of the desk and laid the file down without speaking.

‘I hope you’ve read it as I asked,’ Sebastian growled. ‘What did you think?’

‘I think it was about time I came home,’ she said.

His head went up, and for a moment he simply stared, as if his eyes couldn’t focus. He might have been gazing at an apparition that he longed for, but feared to believe in. Then understanding came, and what Maggie saw in his face made her draw a sharp breath. So that was it! And she hadn’t known.

The glass overturned. The file vanished somewhere, his chair crashed to the floor, and Sebastian was round the desk, seizing her in his arms, enveloping her in the fiercest embrace he had ever given her.

‘You returned,’ he said huskily. ‘You came back to me.’

‘Of course I did,’ she said when she could speak. ‘I had to bring your birthday gift.’

‘The gift is you,’ he said, kissing her again.

‘But I have another. Here.’ She took his hand and laid it gently on her stomach.

‘What-what are you telling me?’ His voice shook.

For answer she just smiled, and drew his head down so that his lips lay on hers. She kissed him tenderly, with reassurance, for that was what he needed most just now.

‘When we were in the mountains, you said that you didn’t know what the answer was, and that perhaps there wasn’t one,’ she reminded him. ‘I don’t know what the answer for us is, either. But I believe there is one. And while I was away from you, I realised that we must find it here-together.’