Chapter Three: Genevive
Ginny's mind floated in a sea of thoughts. What had she just seen? It felt like she was actually there—she was Anukaya! Was that one of her past lives? The mirror faded the image of the palace, that she had just been in, twirled in the blue smoke only to reveal another scene. Before Ginny could comprehend what was happening she was again sucked into image in front of her.
~*~*~
Genevive looked around at the countryside outside of the carriage. All she saw were vast expanses of fields with a solitary tree dotting the horizon and the misty shade of mountains. She frowned at what she saw then returned her head inside of the carriage.
"What is it, daughter?" Asked the man sitting across from her.
His hair was dark and curled much like Genevive's. He had the look of a Spaniard about him and his beautiful hair and pert mouth were all that Genevive had inherited from her Father. She had received her mother's round, heavy lashed eyes that were tinted a shade of green, the small nose, firm forehead and high cheekbones. She missed her mother, but dared not express the feeling for fear her father would sink into a stupor.
"Nothing, Papa." She replied.
"I know you are sad to leave France—it was the only home you knew—but I believe I am doing what's best by removing us from that country and returning to Spain. My people will become yours and we will start anew." Ferndnand smoothed out his slim moustache and goatee.
Genevive gave a great sigh, then contented herself with picturing what their new home would be like. She knew they could not have a richly decorated home like they had in France, for her father was stripped of money and title long ago. She remembered him saying he used to be a Duke but some misfortune met his family and he had to run or be ruined. He made France his new home where he met, wooed, and married a rich young woman, youngest daughter of a Marquis. They had lived happily and rejoiced in the birth of their first child, but after seventeen long years of joy fate decided to deal them a card of tears. The mother died tragically and soon after Ferndnand took his daughter away and here they were.
The carriage rocked back and forth along the bumpy road, making it a very uncomfortable ride. Genevive hoped that they would reach the city before long.
"Ah, we are here." Her father smiled.
Genevive watched through the window and she saw a great wall protecting an even greater city within. Frowning, Genevive looked at the poor architecture. Nothing could compare with the gothic structures of Paris, she thought, and she yearned for home.
The carriage passed through the gates and roamed the city until it stopped outside a small dwelling. Genevive was handed out by her Father and she straightened the lace collar around her neck and smoothed the flounces of her skirt. She stepped nimbly over the upturned cobbles of the street until she came to the entrance of a small courtyard.
"I have procured this lodging," He said holding his hand up to the structure. "It is not like home, but it will do for us."
Ferndnand opened the gate and allowed Genevive to pass through. She looked back and saw the driver of the coach begin to unload hers and her Father's trunk. Ferndnand helped him carry the trunks to the courtyard, paid the man, and watched with his daughter as the carriage rode away through the mass of people. He closed the gate, blocking out the view of the outside, and escorted his daughter inside.
~*~*~
Genevive sat looking out the window at the people below on the street. Her fingers strummed the windowsill and she longed to get out. They had been there a month and she was only permitted to leave the house for Mass with her Father. She wore veils of black to match her mourning clothes, and looked at the tinted world, wishing to be apart of it.
Many people of the area had watched the middle aged man and the woman in black come to Mass often and wondered what their relationship could be. No amount of bribing could bring their only servant to reveal what she had gleaned, for she was a mute. Ferndnand had found her out of a happy chance, paid her well, and instructed her to watch Genevive.
The rustling of skirts took Genevive from her window and through the door came Maria, their servant. She looked to be not much older than Genevive, but she was not pretty nor elegant. She came bustling into the room holding a tray of food and set it on the table. She walked over to Genevive and smiled. She noticed the sad longing on the girls face and frowned in sympathy.
"Thank you, Maria." Genevive said for the food.
Maria sat next to Genevive holding up the book that lay forgotten beside the sad girl. She held it for Genevive to see.
"I do not feel like studying my Spanish. It's an atrocious language and I refuse to speak it." She stood up and walked towards the food. She sat at the small table and moved the meats and vegetables around with the fork. "I miss France." She sighed. "If I ever go back I'll take you with me, Maria. You understand French as if you were French. I miss the fairs and the jousting and the jugglers in the street. I've even been to the Kings court and danced with many lords."
Maria ran her hand through the girls long tresses, which were only dressed on Sundays. Genevive didn't have the heart to dress properly, for she'd be seen by no one except Maria and her Father.
"I wish I knew what Father was up to." Genevive said, putting down her fork. "I can tell by the way his eyes are set on some unseen object, and the way he paces when he thinks I do not know, that he has a plan of some sort. He has taken up fencing again, after Mama told him she did not like it…" Genevive stopped, remembering her mother was too painful.
Maria caressed Genevive's cheek then pointed her in the direction of the food that was quickly growing cold. Genevive ate, though she had no appetite, then waited until her Father would return. She saw him coming into the court yard an hour later, but something was different. He walked with a purpose, nearly running towards the door of the house. Genevive knew instinctly that he was rushing to come and tell her some news, so she waited, picking up her Spanish book so he'd think she was being a good daughter. The door was swung open with such force he startled Genevive into dropping the book.
"Papa!" She said indignantly, angry that he had frightened her.
Ferndnand rushed to his daughter, a mischievous smile on his face and his eyes twinkled, making him look ten years younger. He grabbed both her hands in his, kissed each one, then let them drop.
"I have done it!" He said triumphantly.
"Have done what, Papa?" Genevive asked, not being able to help the small smile creeping onto her own face.
"I have secured myself as an instructor in the Villa de Santiago. Finally I shall see justice done." Ferndnand had said the last sentence to himself, and Genevive eyed
her father questioningly. "Pack your things, we leave tomorrow."
Genevive never questioned her Father, so by the next day all her things were packed. She had expected having to participate in a sad farewell with Maria, but as she walked down into the courtyard she saw that her servant had a small trunk of her own, wearing clothes fit for travel. She looked at her Father, who smiled and nodded, knowing the thoughts of his dear child. Genevive ran to her Father, gave him a hug, and kissed his cheek.
They found themselves again in a carriage, but this time rolling away from the city. Maria was sitting with the driver, letting the Father and daughter enjoy some private time. Genevive kept glancing at her Father, willing him to explain all this, but neither spoke nor made gestures. Just as they were out of eyesight of the city, her Father broke the silence.
"You are probably wondering where we are going, why and what will happen, but being the obedient daughter you are, have self control over your curiosity. Well, you have endured much and I will enlighten you, for you are to play a role in this charade.
"I will leave out a lot of details, but hope to satisfy your inquiring nature. As you know I left Spain long ago, being disgraced and forced myself into exile. I took refuge in France, met your Mother, and thought my unhappy past behind me. A week before your Mother's death I received a note—you need not know from whom or what it read—but the contents of the note caused me to grow angry, for at the same time my poor wife was dying, thus all my happiness leaving me. When your mother died I had thought we could move back to Spain and try to find a tranquil life, but my anger increased, and my conscience could no longer keep down the impious thoughts within. I took to instructing fencing, knowing I was the best, and soon would be sought after. I was true in my prophecy, for just the other day I had a letter from the Familia Santiago, offering me anything if I would come and instruct their son. I sent a message post haste, telling them I would leave as soon as possible, and arrive the next evening.
"The Santiago family is very influential in the country and being taken under their roof will ensure safety for the time being. I wrote that I had a daughter who did not like society and refused all company except that of her servant and myself. I need you to play the part of a mourning daughter, fit to be a nun. No matter what happens, you must not befriend anyone you meet. Promise me."
Genevive looked into the imploring eyes of her Father, not knowing the extremity of what he was saying. "I promise Father." She said, then added, "I don't see how I could else wise, I don't know a jot of Spanish."
"Oh, Genevive, you are headstrong in your own way. Obstinate, but not boisterous, like your Mother. She ruled my heart without me ever knowing it, letting me pretend I was master." He gave a soft chuckle, then was steeped in his own thoughts.
The sun was beginning to fade, and just as the last rays of light danced across the land, the carriage stopped outside a large chateau. Genevive put her black veil over her face and followed her Father up to the gates. They were stopped by a few guards, then let enter once her Father announced who they were, followed by Maria. They entered a large courtyard filled with trees and fragrant flowers, but Genevive could barely see in the dark. They entered the chateau and were showed their living quarters.
"Remember, daughter, befriend no one. I will come to you tomorrow morning before I go." Ferdnand whispered to her before she entered her room.
Genevive was perplexed by the apparent scheming of her Father, but was too tired to poor over it further. Maria quickly undressed her then saw her into bed. Before the loyal servant left, she stoked the fire, filling new warmth into the dark, cold room.
~*~*~
As promised, Ferdnand visited his daughter the next morning. He meeting was brief, just a simple reminder of the promises made the day before, and leaving instructions for Maria. He then left, telling his daughter he would be back before sundown.
Genevive ate alone in her room, being served only by Maria. She had been told that she could spend some time in the courtyard, but that Maria must always be near. Genevive did not like these rules, and for the first few days tried to live them, as her father would want her to. True, this courtyard was by far larger than the one they had previous lived in, but the walls were still her prison. She would sit by some fountain amongst the shade of a huge tree, picking flowers or reading some novel while Maria sat a few feet away, bent on her needlework. But soon Genevive grew wrestles. A plan had been forming in her head for some time, and as she sat admiring a small bouquet of flowers, she enacted the first step.
"Oh, Maria!" She stood up quickly and dropped the bouquet, the flowers scattering on the ground.
Maria was startled, and dropped her needlework. "What is it?" Her look suggested.
"I have forgotten my mother's broche in the jewelry box! Oh, I always wear it for it brings great comfort." Here she sat down as if the heat of the sun was too much for her. "Please, Maria, would you go fetch it for me? I do not think I can walk in this heat."
Maria looked at the chateau, biting her lower lip, trying to decide what to do. She should please her mistress, that's what she was hired for, but the master had told her to keep an eye on her. She looked over at Genevive who looked fit to faint. She slowly nodded her head then dashed to the chateau, leaving Genevive alone.
"That was easier than I thought it would be." Genevie said standing from her spot. She looked around to make sure no one was about and after straitening her veils to hide her face completely, she stepped away from the fountain and onto a path that led to the outer gardens.
The gardens inside the courtyard were tediously manicured and Genevive preferred the wilderness outside the imprisoning walls. The chateau was situated on the top of a hill that sloped down gracefully in a sea of tall grasses and colorful wild flowers. At the base of the hill was a small wood and Genevive could see the tinkling reflection of the sun from a small river. She caught her breath at the beauty of it, and without a further moments hesitation she embarked for this new paradise.
Along the way Genevive picked a flower here and there and tucked them into her bodice. While she was in mourning she was not permitted to wear colors, but she reasoned that God had made these colors, and that she would not be held accountable. When she reached the base of the hill she looked up at the picturesque chateau with the blue sky in the background and smiled, wondering if Maria was frantically searching for her. She gave a small laugh, then continued into the woods.
The air was much cooler among the shade, and darker. She removed her veil and placed it on her shoulders.
"Cursed thing," She said of the black lace. "Only the Spanish would think of hiding their women beneath such things."
Now that Genevive felt free to do as she pleased, she skipped from tree to tree, sitting here while taking apart the petals of a flower, or admiring the beauty that was around her. The afternoon was fastly passing her by, causing her to forget of the time. When she came to the small river she first sat on a smooth rock and basked in the soft rays of light that filtered through the boughs of the trees, while listening to the sounds of the babbling water and the singing of the bullfrogs and crickets. She grew thirsty and neared the stream. She bent down on her knees, and cupped her hands, filling them with water. Just as she was about to take a drink she heard the soft neighing of a horse.
Genevive stood up, hands dripping and hair coming lose from her bun. A few yards away stood a horse, also taking advantage of such a giving nature. But it wasn't the horse that startled her, it was the man upon the horse. He was looking at her quizzically, as if he wasn't sure what to make of her; was she human or spirit? She was dressed in mourning black, but looked as if she hadn't a care in the world. His quiet observation was interrupted.
"You intrude upon a lady's privacy, sir." Genevive said in halting Spanish, breaking the trance he was under.
"I did not know ladies came to drink of the river water." He replied, smiling.
"I beg you will leave and turn at once." She said firmly.
He began to laugh and threw back his head, his blonde hair flying in the wind. Genevive narrowed her eyes at this obstinate man. Realizing that he would not leave, she prepared herself. It was time to return, she thought, and she replaced the veil of lace onto her head and began to exit the woods.
"Excuse me, pray, let me apologize." The man came riding up behind her.
"No need for barbarians to apologize." She said, not turning around, nor lessening her pace.
"I will apologize at any rate, and I apologize again and again, fair lady."
Genevive could feel her cheeks color—she had not been called fair or beautiful in such a long time she had felt that her looks had left her. She was glad that she had her veil; she did not want to give this man the satisfaction of knowing he could affect her in such a way.
"Do not speak to me, I beg of you." She was determined to leave this man behind in the woods, and not have him follow her.
"Then may I watch you? I would do anything to see your face once more."
"Please refrain yourself and leave at once!" Genevive was growing tired from all this walking, but was pleased to see the end of the woods was near.
"If you are headed to the chateau, I will gladly escort you." After this phrase the sound of something heavy hit the ground and Genevive knew he had dismounted.
"What is your name?" She asked abruptly, turning around.
The man had not expected her to turn around so fast, and as he was trying to keep pace with her, that he had nearly collided into her. "Why does m'lady wish to know?"
"So that I may report you to my father. I am sure that within the week you will be dismissed from whatever duties you perform, and banished from the grounds."
The boy's face turned to amusement. "You have so much power up there?" Genevive held her head high, defying him with her proud gesture. "I do have a most tedious job in the chateau, but my presence is so much needed, I do not fear dismissal…no matter what it is I do." He paused and looked as if recognition dawned on him. "You are the daughter! I should have known with your French accent, but we have guests from all of Europe at present it did not occur to me that—well, I guess the rumors are true, the little daughter of the expert instructor is beautiful."
"You talk to me as if I know you and I do not!" Genevive was very angry that rumors about herself were being spread without her knowing. "I demand to know who you are."
"My name, m'lady, is Paco." This he said in perfect French, with only a hint of an accent. "I train the horses, as you can see."
Genevive gave a nod of her head, then began her ascent up the hill. She stopped mid way up and turned around to face Paco who was behind her.
"Please, do not follow me, my father may be watching. He does not wish that I—" Genevive stopped. How could she tell someone that her father made her promise not to speak with any one?
"Wish what?" It was too late, Paco was already intrigued.
"He does not wish…for me to leave the courtyard of the chateau." Genevive gave a slight sigh of relief. "He says I will get lost if otherwise."
"Well then, I take my leave, allowing you to return safely with no scolding from your Papa. But," Here he smiled slyly. "I'd like to meet you again. I've heard that you're not to leave the sight of your maid, but the idea of being watched by her while I see you does not appeal to me. Perhaps we could meet down by the river?"
"I do not think that is possible."
"I do not like the idea of knowing that the news of your truancy will probably reach your father…"
"You would not!"
"Oh, I would do anything, as I said, to see your face again."
Genevive stared at the young man before her, sizing him up. He dressed like he had a higher influence in the staff, and perhaps he had. He could easily get to her father and mention the meeting they had just had. "Not tomorrow, though…the day after next."
"Agreed!" Paco mounted his horse with such enthusiasm, Genevive smiled. He rode off into the horizon, leaving Genevive solitude to think of an excuse she could come up with to first, not get Maria to tell her father, and second, to find a way to meet Paco again.
~*~*~
Maria didn't look happy at all as she saw Genevive enter the courtyard by a hidden gate. A woman like Maria had skill in expressing herself through every look, every gesture, and words were not needed to see that Maria was tired and exhausted and above all, angry. "Where have you been?" Her looks demanded.
"Maria, I am sorry, but I needed to get out of this confining place. I took a stroll in a small wood below the hill and lost the hour. I thought I would be back before you came, but it was so beautiful and peaceful, and I needed to be alone…please, forgive me and do not tell father."
Maria's face softened a bit, but she was still mad that her mistress could not tell her of the need for the privacy. She placed a comforting hand on the girls shoulder.
"I had such a lovely time, Maria, and I was alone and had time to think and to be myself. I love your company, I truly do, but one needs to be alone." Maria nodded her head in agreement. "That is why I would like to go again…alone. Now Maria, do not give me that look! Please, do not deny me this only pleasure. Father would not understand, he feels the need to protect me from the wind itself! I will only be gone two hours at a time and I will pay special attention to the movement of the sun in the sky. Please?"
Maria narrowed her eyes but in the end relented. She saw no harm in her mistress's plan, and she also could use a couple of hours to herself. Genevive spoke of her plan to go into the wood every other day at noon and return through the gate that was hidden in the wall. Maria only wished that the anxiety on her face would not betray the conspiracy to her master.
Ferdnand suspected nothing that evening as he ate supper in his daughter's room. He spoke animatedly of his teaching the young master of the house and how well he was at all sports. Genevive told of her quiet afternoon in the garden and even pleased him with her increasing knowledge of the Spanish language.
"Good, good, my plan is coming along well." He muttered to himself, but Genevive caught the words that she knew were not meant for her to hear.
Throughout the rest of the meal she would spy her father sinking into sullen moods, as if he were thinking of something of great importance, then he would delve into the conversation as if the shadow had passed. Genevive was quite unsettled and resolved to find the meaning behind her father's duplicity, hoping he would never suspect her own.
The next day came and found Genevive in a fowl mood. She took to her room and refused to enter the courtyard garden. She did not want to wear the lace veil, it's blackness covering her beauty that she never lost. There are no mirrors in her room, and she desperately wants to see what she had become. She's a young woman, and changes come quickly. Will she be an old woman before she can see herself again?
Maria sat patiently in the corner, watching as Genevive paced the room; one moment fists clinched, teeth bared, the next collapsed on the floor in a sea of black fabric and lace, a child crying into her hands. Her hair was undone from any restraining buns and twists, and flowed freely in dark masses. She would take strands of hair and smooth them with her fingers in front of her face, admiring the soft gleam. She would then thrust her hair away from herself, disgusted at some thought that Maria never knew.
She longed to see the boy again, Paco. She wanted to speak with someone, to relate to another human being her age. And she hated herself for these desires. When she was in France it was the men who flocked to her side, bestowing small gifts to win her favor and a glance in their direction. Now she was forced to hide herself from the world and befriend no one.
"Please don't tell father I've been unpleasant today." Genevive whispered as she stood up from the floor. "He would be worried about me and I feel all I need is some rest."
Maria nodded her head and prepared her mistress for an early retirement to bed. Once Genevive was safely tucked amongst the sheets, Maria drew the curtains down, blocking out the sunlight, and left her mistress sleeping peacefully.
~*~*~
"I hope you are feeling well." Ferdnand said at breakfast the next day.
"I am, thank you Father." Genevive responded, giving every impression of a healthy young maiden.
"Good," He said, standing up from the table. "I shall see you this evening." And with that he left.
After Maria dressed her hair, Genevive placed the veil over her face and was ready to enter the courtyard. They sat under the same tree by the same fountain; Maria sewing, Genevive reading. Once the sun reached the uppermost part of the sky Genevive stood and walked away from Maria, who looked as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Genevive left the garden and entered her paradise.
There was a slight breeze that afternoon, but Genevive didn't notice anything around her. She went directly to the wood and through it to the river. A small frown crept onto her face when she saw that no one was there, but she sat on a rock and waited.
"Ah, I had my doubts you would show up." Paco came up behind her and spoke in French.
"How is it that a horse trainer speaks perfect French?" Genevive questioned, trying to keep a cool air.
"I spent some time in France and learned it quickly." He merely said, leaning against the nearest tree.
Genevive sat quiet and still, feeling the quick flutter of her heart as she peered at Paco out of the corner of her eye. He was tall and lean and underneath his clothes his muscles were well defined. She had not seen many Spaniards with light colored hair, but decided it suited him well, just the same.
"Are you going to keep that veil on all day, Genevive?" He asked.
"You know my name?" She gasped.
"I know a lot about you. I have spies that swarm the hill." He bent low to her and smiled. "Again, I would hate to tell your father of your disobedience."
Genevive took the lace veil by a corner and slowly took it off of her head. She was proud to see Paco smile in satisfaction.
"One day I would like to paint your portrait."
"That is impossible."
"So was meeting you a second time, but look where we are?" He spread his arms out.
"You are very rude and I do not like your company much." Genevive stood and was about to leave but her arm was grabbed by Paco.
"I am truly sorry, please, let me apologize."
"It seems you are well versed in apologies as well as French. Your train horses, paint and compromise young ladies into meeting them in private. Are there any other skills you excel in?" Genevive asked haughtily.
"Many." He smiled. "I am told I can dance extremely well, write a good verse or two into song and woo any lady I take an interest in."
Genevive let out a noise of annoyance, and turned on her heel. She did not like the game this man was playing and she would not stay another minute. She made her way towards the hill, followed by an apologetic Paco, but his words fell on deaf ears. Genevive began walking quickly up the hill, not looking exactly where her feet were falling, and she stepped into a hole, falling to the ground. She tried to stand again but a sharp pain shot through her leg. She yelled out as she grasped at her ankle.
"Allow me to asses the damage!" Paco said worriedly, and he knelt down and took her injured foot in his hand. He removed the dainty slipper and the black stocking, leaving Genevive's foot bare, and face red. His touch was very warm and instantly the pain was vanishing. "No harm done." He smiled up at her face, his hand still on her foot.
"Kindly give my foot back to me." Genevive said.
"I do not know what makes feet so attractive." Paco said in response, eyeing her small foot. "Perhaps because women hide them beneath folds of fabric and any peek at a lady's foot is exciting. What's this? A peculiar mark…like an arrow pointing down."
"I was born with it, now let me replace my shoe—" As she said these words she bent over and with her own hand grabbed at her foot, her fingers brushing against the birthmark. For a moment her vision failed her and in the darkness that followed she could see a small girl with fiery red hair staring at her. She reached out to the girl, but her image was vanishing.
"Genevive! Wake up!" Paco's words recalled her back to the present.
"What happened?"
"You fainted. Hurry, you need to get out of the heat." He carefully replaced her stocking and shoe and carried her up the hill towards the chateau.
"Wait! You can't take me in! Maria will see and surely tell Papa."
"But you can't walk in…"
"Yes, I feel fine now. Let me go alone."
Paco let her down, still holding her arm in case she felt a fainting spell again. Once she gained her balance, Genevive walked towards the gate alone.
"Can I see you again?" He called just before she entered the courtyard.
Genevive paused where she was, "The day after next." Then she disappeared behind the walls.
~*~*~
The pair of them spent every other day together down by the river for the next three weeks. Maria did not suspect a thing, even when her mistress would come back after the two hours looking younger and younger. Ferdnand was so busy with his own thoughts that his daughter's changes escaped him as well. He looked anxious every time he and Genevive dined, as if his plans were quickly coming to a close, but the finishing touches needed work.
One afternoon, Genevive sat by the water, one hand cupping the cool liquid then let it drip from her hand, while Paco painted her portrait. He brought her a red rose for her to place in her hair, which became her exceedingly well. He stared at the lovely picture in front of him, and then at the model who was even more lovely. While she was busy staring at the water, he studied her features, trying to paint them onto his soul.
"What is it?" She asked, laughingly, looking up.
"You are so beautiful."
Genevive bent her head down, which displeased Paco. He stepped away from his painting and knelt beside her. He clasped her hands in his and looked ardently into her face.
"Genevive, I feel a strange attachment to you." He began. "When I first saw you kneeling here those weeks ago you looked familiar, as if my spirit knew yours. I felt attracted to you in no way that I felt towards any other woman. My current situation makes me desperate, but I must declare my feelings before I'm bound by honor and duty. I love you, Genevive, and I've loved you since that first day. I've learned everything I could about you and know that your mother was the daughter of a Marquis, which makes you a noble. I know you prefer wild flowers than those in the gardens, and roses are becoming in your hair. You have a passionate soul, but restrain it when duty demands, which shows you also have self control. I thought that a minute ago I must love you as much as I could, but now I feel that love has doubled, and I know it will continue to increase. Please, Genevive, let me make you my bride. I will make you happy and if you are sad I will do anything to see hear laughter in your voice."
Paco stopped and studied Genevive's reaction. She had listened to his speech in patience, her heart beating faster as he went on, the blood rushing to her cheeks. She had felt love for Paco also, but was afraid he had not felt the same.
"Yes," She said, tears filling her eyes. "Yes, oh yes! A thousand times yes." Through her veil of tears she began to laugh.
Paco looked up into the heavens and thanked God that He and sent him this angel. He took her hand gently in his hands and kissed away her tears, and finally ended on her full lips.
"Darling," He breathed. "For now I can call you darling, and not only in my mind. I have everything planned. Tonight we will meet by the fountain and we will go to the church. The Priest will marry us, and your loyal Maria and my loyal Pablo will be our witnesses. Then we can share the happy news to our families."
At these words Genevive backed away from his embraces. "My father!" She cried. "He will disown me! He forbade me to befriend anyone! Oh, what he would say if he knew I made a lover!"
"Do not worry, my darling, I will handle everything. You will live like a Princess!"
"Oh, Paco, you need not paint an imaginary scene. I am content to live in the riches of your love. I do not need gold to make me happy."
"Bless you!" He exclaimed, kissing her again.
"Ooh, I must get ready! I have to tell Maria to alter my white dress and I'll leave a note for Papa so that by the time we are away, as a married couple, he will know my fate and have time to forgive me."
"Then go, dear. Duty calls me tonight as well."
The lovers embraced once more before separating. Genevive had the glow of love shining from her face, and it was a sad pity her veil covered the lovely image of the beloved. She met Maria and demanded they go to her room at once. Inside the room Genevive began her story of how she had met Paco and the love that had grown between them. Maria listened with worried ears.
"Please, Maria, Papa would not understand. I have asked you to be my witness because I love you. I will leave Papa a note so that he will know."
Maria looked doubtful, but assured her silence. They set to work to alter the white dress that Genevive had not worn in so long. Once that was completed Genevive set to work on a very eloquent letter, written in Spanish, for her Father. The note was short, and signed with a flourish. She took the note in her hand and went to her Father's room.
The room was set up much like hers, but her Father had a small mirror besides a basin of water in which he used to shave. Curious, Genevive looked at her reflection in the mirror, and admitted she had never looked as beautiful as she did right then. She set the mirror down and searched for a place where her Father would not find the note until the next morning. She went to the writing desk and a pile of papers that looked as if they were hastily hidden in a book caught her eye. Some were addressed from Madrid to France, others addressed from Madrid to Villa de Santiago, all baring the same handwriting.
Genevive took up the letter that had the earliest date on it—a week before her Mother died. She read the words, new secrets being revealed to her. She read the words again, hoping they would change with a second reading, but they did not. That was when her Father entered.
"Papa!" She cried.
"Genevive?" He walked towards her and noticed she had a small folded piece of parchment in her hand. "Is this for me?" Genevive stood motionless as he took the note she intended for him to read tomorrow, and watched as his face changed from happiness to anger.
"What is this?" He yelled, flapping the paper in front of her. "Did I not make myself clear for you not to befriend any one? Who is this Paco? There are no horse trainers by this name! Who is this man who has fooled my daughter? Answer me!"
"Papa, please." Genevive began to cry. "I love him and I would love him still even if he were only the blacksmith…nay, even if he only fed the horses."
"I only know one person by this name and he—" Ferdnand stopped, his eyes widening. "Is this boy tall and slender? With light hair?" Genevive nodded. "No! Not when justice is so near! Must this family always curse me?"
Ferdnand threw the letter from himself, as if it were a snake about to bite. He paced the floor in an angry rage, one in which Genevive had never seen him before. He would stop in front of his daughter, take note of the love in her eyes, then scream, "Bah!" and pace again.
"Please tell me what is wrong." Genevive begged, clasping her hands together in front of herself.
Ferdnand walked up to her, "I will tell you what is wrong! You feel in love with Paco, only he isn't Paco, he's Francisco Santiago, son of Señor Santiago, the man who—the man who—" Ferdnand clutched at his heart and yelled, "The man who killed Katalina, the woman I loved!"
Ferdnand fell to his knees, crying into the palms of his hands, memories too overwhelming for him to control himself. Genevive knelt in front of him and wrapped her father in her arms. "Tell me, Papa."
The sobs died down, and Ferdnand told his story to his daughter, "I was twenty one, just came of age, and I loved Katalina. She was only seventeen and very beautiful and loved by many, but none as strong or more passionate as me. She loved me too, and confessed, but I wasn't the only one to hear. Marco was an ardent lover of Katalina's as well, and he bribed her with his many riches and higher title than mine, but she would have none of him. When he heard Katalina admit her love for me, he flew into a rage and challenged me right there. I gladly unsheathed my sword, for I knew I was an expert. Katalina begged me not to kill Marco, and after much coaxing, I withdrew my sword. Marco was persistent and came at me with a dagger. We both had our backs to him, and when we turned around Katalina flung herself in front of the blade, taking the blow that should have been mine. She died in my arms, leaving me only a few hours of life in her love.
"Marco left as soon as Katalina hit the floor, and he convinced others that I had killed Katalina in a fit of rage because she denied me her hand. I was to be killed, having my title stripped from me, but I fled to France. Katalina's image haunted my mind and I swore vengeance, and thought of nothing else for four long years up until the day I met your mother. She made me forget my unhappy past and taught me to love again. I thought that I was being blessed for the love I lost, by giving me a love I could live with. Then, she began to grow sick, and anger took me again. And in the worst moment of all I received a letter, this letter!" Ferdnand stood and retrieved the letter Genevive had already read. "I kept correspondence with someone who I told to write to me concerning Marco. His life was greatly blessed; a wife, children and now his son was to be affianced to the Princess! I would not stand for it so I came here. My plan worked so far, except you came to love him…Francisco Santiago, the son
of the man who robbed me of every happiness."
Genevive let her Father cry some more on her shoulder, and when his crying ceased, she began. "Papa, you have been fortunate to find love in three women, for you have mine as well. I beg of you, Papa, let me love this man. Do not deny me what you had twice."
"No!" He yelled. "I will not have it! I will not have my daughter marry Marco's son! Never!"
"Please, Papa. He is not like his Father."
"We will not stay another night under this roof. Bring what you can carry, we leave tonight…no go!"
Genevive went to place her hand on her Father's shoulder, but he yelled, "I said go!"
Her eyes filling with tears she left for her own room. Maria saw the sad look on her mistress' face and knew something had spoilt her happiness.
"Maria, we are leaving. Papa found out!" She flung herself into Maria's arms and sobbed. Maria wiped away her tears and looked down into her face. "I know, Maria. I must say goodbye at least. What my Father has told me does not permit me to tie myself with his family."
Maria stood up. "I'll be back." Her looks said, and she left the room. A quarter of an hour later she returned, took Genevive by the hand, and escorted her through the chateau until they reached a large library. Sitting on one of the chairs was Paco, dressed in all his finery, conversing with a few servants. When he saw Genevive enter he dismissed the servants, then ran to Genevive.
"What is wrong?" He demanded, taking her into his arms.
"How come you did not tell me you were Francisco Santiago?" She looked into his eyes.
"Because I wanted you to love Paco…not Francisco Santiago."
"I fear I cannot marry you." She could feel her eyes began to water again.
"Do not fear, everything is planned."
"No, I could have married Paco, the horse trainer, but I cannot marry Francisco Santiago."
"Why are you being so cryptic?"
"A long time ago your Father did my Papa a great wrong. Papa came here to avenge himself and I do not doubt something horrible was planned for this family! But he found out today that I loved his enemy's son. He forbids me to marry you, but to ease my heart he will leave your family alone, taking us both far away from here."
"You must stay!"
"It's impossible."
"Nothing is impossible." Paco spoke with such belief, such vigor, that he nearly had Genevive believing him. "Genevive, if you leave I will be forced to marry someone I do not love. Please, once we are married I will leave. We can both leave this place."
"It is because I love you that I cannot marry you and I must go." She ran from his arms and out of the room, all the way back to her own where she collapsed on her bed.
~*~*~
Father and daughter left before night. Francisco Santiago demanded of every single servant where they had gone, but no one knew. He sent out inquiries but no positive replies reached him. He refused to marry the Princess, causing his Father to confront him with the foolishness he was showing.
"I do not love her."
"What does love have to do with it?"
"I love another."
"A wench, no doubt. Get over it and marry the Princess."
"I love a woman who has noble blood. A Marquis for a Grandpère, and her Father was a Duke in Spain until someone framed him for murder."
"Murder! Her family is tainted and not worth ties."
"No, Father, our family is tainted, for you are the murderer. Yes, I did a thorough background on the woman I love and the morning of the day I proposed I found out who her Father was, what he was accused of, and knew that you would be enraged enough to kill. I decided to make her mine before her Father thought it necessary to leave."
Señor Santigo stood speechless.
"I will search for her, Señor, until I find her. Even if I have to search forever!"