He sighed. “I have debated the matter with myself. A dispensation from the Pope would be impossible, I fear. Yet I have no hope of legitimate sons if I do not remarry; I could give sons to the church, to my country. Isabella’s family is influential, more so than my own. A dispensation would never be granted.”

“Then it is useless to continue these suppositions.”

“There must be a way. There is always a way. I must tell you this—in a short time Don Luis Herrera will be arriving. He is going to take over the governorship from me, but not immediately. He will need a year, perhaps more, to learn what I have to teach him. These islands are of the utmost value to Spain; they are the gateway to the new world. We must hold them and we are continually assailed. Therefore, the new Governor must understand what is expected of him. In a year … two at most … I shall return to Madrid. Catalina, I am going to take you with me … as my wife.”

“Do Spanish Dons have two wives then?”

“She is not healthy, poor Isabella,” he said slowly. “These fits are becoming more frequent.”

“You are willing her to die.”

He was silent for a moment and then he said: “What can her life be? What has she?”

“She seems happy enough with her dolls.”

“Dolls—and she a grown woman!”

“She is not a woman. She is a child. You loved her once.”

He looked at me steadily. “I have loved but once, and I shall go on loving one woman to the end of my days.”

“Don Felipe!”

“Do not say Don Felipe. To you I am Felipe. Say it as though you are close to me. It would give me great pleasure to hear you.”

“When I say it I will say it naturally.”

“It will happen,” he said. “I know it.”

“So you never loved Isabella,” I insisted. “Tell me the truth.”

“It was a worthy match. Hers is one of the greatest families in Spain.”

“So it was for this reason only that you wished to marry her?”

“It is for such reason that marriages are arranged.”

“And when you came back and found her after Jake Pennlyon had been, you were mad with rage, not for love of this simpleminded child but because of the affront to your pride. This had happened to her when she was under your protection. That was why you vowed to be revenged.”

“Yet,” he said, “all this has brought me you.”

“It is better to say no more of that. Let me go back to England. My son is old enough to travel now.”

“And lose you both!”

“It is better for you. You are a man of great standing. You will go back to Madrid and take up a post of great importance. Perhaps in due course you will be in a position to marry. Who can say? But you should let me go.”

“I cannot lose both you and the child. You are more to me than anything on Earth.”

The fact that he spoke these words in a quiet, restrained manner gave them force. I was suddenly afraid of the passion which I had aroused in this cold man.

He began to talk eagerly. “If we were married I could legitimize Roberto. I have rich lands and estates in Spain. He should be my heir and there would be a goodly portion for other children we might have. We should live graciously. Perhaps I should retire from the Court. Our children would have every comfort that you would wish for them.”

I let myself dwell on the prospect, which was strange because although I loved Roberto beyond everything and in a way wanted those rich estates for him I longed for home. I wanted to see my mother, to witness the happiness in her face when she knew that her girls were safe and alive; I wanted to see the fruit trees in blossom in the spring. In short, I wanted to go home.

I said to him: “You speak of dreams. You have a wife. I am sorry for you. I am sorry for us all. But Isabella stands between you and what you hope for.”

And I left him because I wanted to brood on my feelings which were by no means clear to me. There were times when I felt a great relief because Isabella stood between us and there could be no change in our relationship because of this; but at others I was not so sure.

Weeks grew into months. There was an uneasy tension in the house. I was constantly aware of Felipe’s brooding eyes on me. He often visited the nurseries and Roberto, who knew him well, used to clap his hands when he saw him.

Manuela had joined Jennet there and although the two of them were not as friendly as I would have wished them to be there was no outward friction.

My son was nearly two years old. So it was three years since we had left England. Much of it seemed far away, but there were moments which I could remember with such clarity that they might have happened but a day before; and most of these concerned my mother. If I could have seen her and if she could live close to me and if there had been no Isabella I think I would have agreed to marry Felipe.

I was not in love with him; but it was impossible to live in the Hacienda and not respect him. His dignity was unquestionable. His justice was apparent in his treatment of those who offended—not that many dared. He was admirable. He was a man of power and a man in command appealed to me. I knew what marriage would entail with him; he would be no stranger in my bed. I knew that I could expect courtesy, gentleness and now a tenderness in our relationship. He loved me with a quiet intensity which I found comforting. I could see a pleasant life opening out before me. I did not expect to love, as I had loved Carey, but I could accept Felipe, and I thought of all the advantages he could bring to me and my son. Roberto would be heir to vast estates. He would receive the best of educations. He would be brought up in the Catholic church, of course, and he would go to Spain and the fact that he had an English mother would be no hindrance with the power of Don Felipe behind him.

During one of my talks with Felipe I said as much. It would be different if Isabella were not there. On the other hand, I was thankful to her. She prevented my having to make a decision which would have been immensely difficult for me.

So during that time I was living in a period of indecision. I knew now that Don Felipe would never allow me to return to England—either with or without my child. Not that I would consider going without Roberto. And I knew too that Isabella stood between our making any decision.

That this was just an intermediary period was brought home to us by the arrival of Luis Herrera, the man who would in time take Felipe’s place.

Don Luis was a handsome man, slightly younger than Felipe—charming, good-looking, courteous. It was apparent from the first moment that he saw Honey that he was deeply affected by her.

Whenever I looked at her I wondered why Don Felipe should have set such store by me when Honey was there. She was superbly beautiful with her violet eyes and dark hair. I knew that she lacked my vitality; she was no fighter, as I was; it had always been her way to let life flow over her, or if she did feel strongly to brood over it and withdraw into herself.

However, she did none of this with Don Luis and it was clear that they liked each other’s company from the start.

Don Luis brought news from the outside world. The four of us dined together—Honey and Luis, myself and Felipe. Felipe’s excuse for this was that it made a pleasant party.

Luis talked a great deal about England. Since we had left, the rivalry between Spain and England had intensified. We heard that the Queen, so unsafe did she feel on the throne, had imprisoned the Lady Catherine Grey—who had some claim—in the Tower for marrying without royal permission.

“She is afraid that there will be offspring to challenge her rights,” said Don Luis. “Yet she remains unmarried. And how can an unmarried woman beget heirs?”

I winced, but only Felipe noticed.

“She has been mightily sick of the smallpox and it was feared in England, though hoped in Spain, that she would die. Even then she refused to appoint an heir.”