The cook of castamar, p.49
The Cook of Castamar, page 49
Clara blushed to hear these words. It seemed many of the servants had already calculated that she could become the next duchess. That seemed unreal to her, and she felt so dizzy, just thinking about it, that she had to rest against the wall. Although no one except her really knew Don Diego’s true intentions, they all took it as a given that the duke had proposed to her.
‘If not, why was he arguing with his mother?’ Elisa suggested. ‘Come on then, confess. Did he propose to you?’
‘No, no, no!’ she shouted. She could face most things in life, but when it came to love, she felt lost and scared. ‘Listen, Elisa,’ she said cautiously, ‘Don Diego hasn’t said anything of the kind. That rumour is false!’
‘Well, after lodging you in his own room and staying by your side all that time, I’m sure he will,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less.’
‘Good God! What are you saying!’ Clara exclaimed nervously. ‘His lordship has no obligation to do anything, Elisa.’
‘Fine, fine,’ Elisa replied. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger.’
Clara brought her hand to her face, trying to take it all in, reflecting on the weak position in which she now found herself. All the servants saw it as a given that Don Diego would make the proposal, which, Clara had to admit, was a feasible possibility based on their last conversation. But what if the brief brushing of their lips did not indicate this… or if, perhaps, he now regretted what he had said. Then the rumours would turn to mockery: How could she have really thought that? The poor girl thought she was going to be duchess, but she’s only good for the stoves. Fancy, a cook who thought she would be lady of all Castamar! With all that expectation around her, she was in a very dangerous position. If the duke did not end up making a move, Clara realized that all that talk would inevitably lead to her having to leave Castamar. But how could she categorically deny the rumours when it was possible that Don Diego would propose marriage to her upon his return? She looked into Elisa’s eyes and took her by the hand.
‘Forgive my temper, Elisa,’ she said. ‘I only hope this goes no further than the walls of Castamar.’
Elisa smiled again and clasped Clara’s hand tight. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ she answered. ‘Don Melquíades has ordered everyone to keep their mouths shut or risk being dismissed. I suppose they don’t want it to end up circulating in the Madrid rumour mills.’
Clara thought how naive she had been to think that the gossip would stop when she returned to her post.
‘Do you know if Doña Ursula has commented on the affair?’
Elisa shook her head.
‘All I know about is the shouting match she had with Don Melquíades,’ Elisa told her. ‘It seems she had him under her thumb all that time because she had proof he was a traitor.’
‘Señorita Belmonte,’ a cold voice said. ‘I understand you are not completely recovered, but I won’t tolerate you distracting the other servants. Back to work, Elisa.’
Doña Ursula had burst into the kitchen, stopping all the activity. Clara looked up and noticed that there was a boy next to her, an apprentice quartermaster of some fifteen years of age, who followed her with his head lowered.
‘I’m sorry, Doña Ursula,’ she said.
Elisa vanished as quickly as possible. The housekeeper walked over and stopped in front of Clara. She looked her up and down as if she could see into her soul, wondering what on earth Don Diego saw in her. They both stared at each other, in the tensest silence either had ever experienced.
‘Follow me,’ Ursula ordered. ‘Somebody wishes to speak with you.’
Clara walked alongside the apprentice, in short steps behind Doña Ursula’s striking heels, which made the wooden stairs resound as she climbed them to the second floor. Once there, they headed down the corridors to the forgotten wing of Castamar, which was only ever opened to accommodate guests during the annual celebration. They made their way over to the grand drawing rooms and the small, adjoined colosseum, where Doña Alba used to enjoy private theatre performances. They advanced down the corridors until they reached one of the old duchess’s private rooms.
The housekeeper made them both stop in front of a door decorated with gold leaf panels and signalled at Clara to go in. Clara nodded and, just as she was about to touch the handle, Doña Ursula took her gently by the arm and stopped her for a moment, weighing up what she was about to say. Clara waited while the housekeeper scrutinized her. She sensed a genuine unease in Doña Ursula, something which made her actually seem human.
‘It’s no secret, Señorita Belmonte, that we both possess contrarian, ungovernable spirits,’ she said finally. ‘But I do not, under any circumstances, wish for you to enter the room blind, since Don Enrique is waiting for you in there, and we both know he is a dangerous man.’
Clara took a deep breath now that she understood the reason behind the housekeeper’s nerves. She remembered that noble’s attractive face, that dangerous smile. The idea of having to see him alone made her stomach turn.
‘I want you to know I will be waiting right outside until you come out,’ Doña Ursula concluded.
Clara understood that the housekeeper must have received orders to bring her here, possibly from Doña Mercedes, since Don Diego was not at home. She thanked her sincerely, for it was obvious Doña Ursula was no opportunist seeking to earn Clara’s favour because of her potential marriage to the duke. She had behaved in the same gruff manner as always, and she was not one to change the way she did things simply because Clara might become the Duchess of Castamar. Despite being absolutely certain that Doña Ursula did not want that marriage to go ahead, the housekeeper had also made it clear that under no circumstances did she want to be complicit in what might happen in that room, or for Clara to come to any harm at the marquess’s hands. It was obvious she felt that way towards Clara because they were both women and because she felt in some way responsible for all the staff at Castamar. Clara nodded to Doña Ursula by way of goodbye and sighed before entering the room.
There, looking out at the fields through the window, was Don Enrique. The marquess barely turned his head as she opened the door.
‘Close the door and come here,’ he ordered. ‘Take a seat.’
She curtseyed.
‘I prefer to stand, your grace,’ she said, keeping her head lowered.
He turned around, resting his predatory eyes on her and gesturing at her to approach. Clara walked unsteadily, aware that this man could eat her whole. Don Enrique looked her up and down in silence, as if he were contemplating an object and not a person.
‘How blind I have been with you, cook,’ he said.
‘I don’t understand what you mean,’ Clara answered cautiously.
The marquess moved closer, stopping in front of her, seeming to enjoy her unease. Clara avoided showing her agitation and kept her head lowered, waiting for him to speak. He said nothing, clearly intending to make her uncomfortable, and began circling her, as if preparing to pounce at any moment.
‘Are you aware of the harm you are doing to Don Diego? You will cast disgrace on Castamar when it becomes public that the duke ran after you like a dog pursuing a bitch on heat. Even more so if he has decided to propose marriage… has he?’ he asked.
Clara preferred to say nothing. Then he placed the head of his stick beneath her buttocks, just as he had done at the dinner. Unable to bear it, she moved away. The marquess stopped right behind her.
‘I insist you tell me if Don Diego has proposed, and under what terms,’ he whispered.
She resisted, her body tense and her eyes burning, challenging him with her silence again. Don Enrique forced her to turn around, pushing her head up with the handle of his stick. She looked at him at last, aware that the marquess was now blocking her access to the exit. He brought his face closer to hers until they were almost touching.
‘Don Diego has treated you like a lady, but you’re nothing more than a servant.’
She took a step back, wondering if Doña Ursula really was still outside in the corridor, as she had promised. Perhaps the housekeeper had just been covering her back should Don Diego hear of their conversation. Suddenly feeling defenceless, Clara continued to retreat in the face of his advance.
‘I just want you to answer one simple question, cook. Has he proposed or declared his love?’ he demanded.
‘Your grace, you can’t expect me to answer that question, for I would not, even if the King of Spain himself were asking, far less a guest in this house who is not even my own master,’ she answered, concealing the fear which this man provoked in her. ‘Ask him yourself, if you want to know so badly.’
‘I don’t need to ask him. He loves you. You only have to see the way he looks at you.’
‘If that were the case, it wouldn’t be your place to tell me, your grace,’ she said, without avoiding his gaze.
He smiled and halted his advance by one of the sofas, gently placing down his stick and laying his jacket on it. That was when Clara knew he intended to do something more than simply intimidate her, and she tried to create some distance between them. Don Enrique didn’t care.
‘Believe me when I tell you that I will not stop your marriage, quite the contrary, in fact – I’m delighted about it, and I’ve even thought about the wedding present I’m going to give you. Don’t say I’m not generous, cook,’ he said mockingly. ‘Don’t you want to know what it is?’
She stopped when she felt the wall behind her and gulped again.
‘Answer me,’ the marquess demanded. ‘Don’t you want to know?’
Clara frowned and told herself that she had to get out of there. She noticed that her silence was only spurring Don Enrique on. He stopped, looked at her and prepared to pounce. Knowing conflict was inevitable, she tried to get past him. She couldn’t. The marquess’s hand closed around her neck like an iron shackle while he used the other one to tug at her hair. A blow to the throat left her breathless and gurgling.
Don Enrique rammed her against the wall. She tried again to call for help from Doña Ursula, but she could barely let out a squeak with the marquess’s fingers closed around her neck. She felt another blow, this time to the stomach, which made her keel over. She broke out in a cold sweat, and felt she was on the cusp of losing consciousness. Don Enrique made her sit up straight and slapped her on the cheeks to stop her from fainting. Her vision blurry now, she prayed silently for Doña Ursula to come in and interrupt the scene.
‘Sssh, don’t be rude, answer the question,’ he said icily, as if he had already composed the scene in his head. ‘Don’t you want to know what present I’m planning to give to you and the duke?’
Gasping for air, she tried to spit at him, but the phlegm only dribbled down her chin. He laughed and told her to nod or he’d slit her throat. She resisted but gave in when she realized his hands were getting tighter.
‘That’s it. See how easy it was, cook?’ He smiled as she tried to wrest herself free from his grip so she could take a breath.
Clara understood that the more time passed, the less strength she would have to resist. The tears were ready to fall, but she told herself that crying would only give him more satisfaction.
‘The present I am going to give you is very special indeed, for it consists of three parts,’ the marquess continued. ‘The first is for you, since I intend to deflower you, so that you know what a real man is and long for me on your wedding night.’
She trembled as she heard the marquess utter these words. Removing a hand from her neck he hit her again in her stomach to stop her from struggling. A sharp pain spread throughout her chest.
‘Let me finish,’ he continued serenely. ‘The second part is for Don Diego since, once I have had my way with you, I want him to challenge me to a duel.’
She tried to bend over but he pinned her against the wall.
‘I have saved the best for last, cook – this part is for both of you. Today, I intend to leave my seed inside you, and nine months from now, you could be celebrating the birth of a new life. By then, Don Diego will no longer be among the living, but you and I shall always have something by which to remember this unforgettable day.’
At this moment, Clara became far more conscious of why Don Diego had not leaped to her defence that night. It was clear Don Enrique did not wish to kill her but rather wanted to provoke a duel and make her the motive for such a challenge, one in which the duke could easily die. She cursed herself for having trusted Doña Ursula’s promise to keep watch. She had been so stupid for making Don Diego go out looking for her, thus provoking his own ruin, and stupid for not having declared her unconditional love to him. Now all she could see was her attacker’s grinning face, as if promising the scene he had just played out was simply a preamble to something far worse.
Don Enrique freed one of his hands and removed the glove with his teeth. Clara tried to wrestle free, weaker with each attempt, as she felt his claws between her legs. The marquess smiled as he lifted her skirts.
Less restricted now, since he was only gripping her throat with one hand, she turned her head and managed to take a fuller breath. She let out a few gurgles and felt her temples pounding and her body growing still weaker.
She tried to shout again, but she couldn’t get free of the shackle of Don Enrique’s hand. She felt his hand stroking her underneath her skirt, a grotesque grin frozen on his face. Feeling his touch, she closed her legs as much as she could, noticing that the more she resisted the more pleasure it gave him. She felt disgust and terror as Don Enrique used his thigh to lever open her legs. He rubbed himself against her sex, thrusting twice in a way which repelled her. She knew then that it was inevitable he would take her by force and deflower her.
This thought made her struggle with all the energy she had left. He pushed her neck harder against the wall. She glared at him with a contempt which overpowered even her fear.
Suddenly, he stopped, and Clara fell to the ground, coughing and gulping down mouthfuls of air, looking up to see Doña Ursula, standing as firm as a lighthouse in a storm, holding a sharpened letter opener against the marquess’s neck.
‘Let go of her, you bastard, or I swear I’ll slit your throat,’ Doña Ursula said. ‘Get behind me, girl.’
The marquess clenched his jaw, as if unable to believe that a simple housekeeper could have ruined his plans. Clara dragged herself away from Don Enrique and positioned herself behind the housekeeper, who was still holding the knife to the marquess’s neck, alert to any movements he might make. Clara staggered to her feet. Doña Ursula shot a quick look at her to check if she was injured.
‘Go,’ she ordered.
Don Enrique tried to turn round, and the housekeeper, conscious of the threat he posed to them, pushed the blade further so that he knew she would not hesitate to slit his throat, even if she ended up on the gallows.
‘Get out of here, Señorita Belmonte,’ she repeated. ‘The boy who was with me has gone to raise the alarm.’
‘I won’t leave without you, Doña Ursula,’ she answered.
‘I said go!’ she ordered.
‘You can’t make me,’ Clara replied.
That was when the marquess jumped out of the way, trying to dodge the blade, and went to grab the stick he’d left on the sofa. Sensing him move, Doña Ursula attacked without hesitation. The blade sliced along Don Enrique’s cheek, causing him to let out a howl of surprise. Clara took the housekeeper’s arm and pulled her towards the door. The marquess ran to block their way. Still holding Doña Ursula’s hand, Clara rushed towards the door handle. She could sense the troubled breathing of the housekeeper and, further away, that of the marquess.
She ran, hearing Doña Ursula crying for help behind her, before suddenly her legs gave way and she fell towards the doorway. Before she could place her hands on the door, it opened and Don Melquíades, alongside several of the estate’s armed guards, stood before them, holding a pistol. She stumbled into the arms of a lieutenant. Looking back, she could see Don Melquíades pointing his pistol at the marquess and Doña Ursula sheltering behind him.
‘I fear your time in this house has come to an end, Marquess,’ the butler said. ‘These men will escort you to the gates.’
Grimacing, Don Enrique unleashed his fury by smashing some of the nearby vases. Then he carefully put his jacket back on and adjusted his cuffs. He walked over to Don Melquíades, looking him in the eye.
‘Send a message to the duke. I assume he will wish to restore his honour.’
Don Melquíades lowered his pistol.
‘Have no doubt, there is nowhere in this world where you will be able to hide from my master.’
Don Enrique was about to head for the exit when Don Melquíades stepped in front of him.
‘And have no doubt, your grace, that if you had done any irreparable damage to either of these two women, I would have put a bullet in your head myself,’ he said. ‘Even though I am not your equal and I would have hanged for it.’
Don Melquíades’s direct manner made Doña Ursula look at him in a way which Clara had never seen before, a mixture of surprise and astonishment. Don Enrique looked at the butler as if weighing up whether or not to kill him for his boldness then tried to force him to move aside. He did not budge.
‘Pray to the Almighty that your master is still alive, because I will remember your words if he is not,’ the marquess whispered, before finally making his way through the door.
Clara stood up, supporting herself in the lieutenant’s arms, and looked over at Doña Ursula.
‘Thank you for intervening, Don Melquíades,’ she said.
The butler nodded without taking his eyes off the marquess as he grew smaller down the long corridor. Just as Don Enrique was about to leave the corridor, he stopped, turned and pointed at Clara menacingly. Clara looked up, holding her head high, despite how intimidated she felt, and stood firm until he was out of sight. She breathed unsteadily, still feeling the marquess’s hand between her legs. A fit of profound disgust took root in the pit of her stomach, and she felt like vomiting. Overcome, she ran off without taking leave of those present. She asked for a large basin of warm water to be brought to her room and, the moment it arrived, plunged straight into it without even removing her skirt.
