Counterfeit Bride(3)

As Elaine had caustically commented, it had improved nothing, but at least they'd had a good time.

Cliff had been a constant visitor at the apartment after Teresita moved  in. He had adapted without apparent difficulty to the demands of an  old-fashioned courtship, bringing gifts-bottles of wine, bunches of  flowers, and once even a singing bird in a cage. Teresita sang too, all  round the apartment, small happy songs betokening the inner radiance  which showed in her shining eyes and flushed cheeks.

That was how love should be, Nicola thought, bringing its own certainty  and security, imposing its welcome obligations. Perhaps it was the  constant exposure to Teresita's transparent happiness which was making  her so restless. Not that there'd been much radiance about lately, she  reminded herself drily. Cliff had been sent to Chicago for a few weeks  and in his absence Teresita had drooped like a neglected flower. But he  was due to return during the next few days, and Nicola was sure they  would be announcing their engagement at the very least as soon as he  came back.

That was if Teresita managed to break the news to her guardian, the  remote and austere Don Luis Alvarado de Montalba. She seemed very much  in awe of him, reluctant even to mention his name, but Nicola had still  gleaned a certain amount of information about him.

He was wealthy and powerful, that went without saying. At one time, his  family had owned vast cattle estates in the north, but later they had  begun to diversify, to invest in industry and in fruit and coffee  plantations, apparently foreseeing the time when the huge ranches would  be broken up into smaller units and the landowners' monopolies broken.

Not that any government-inspired reforms seemed to have made a great  deal of difference to the Montalbas, she thought. They still owned the  ranch, although its size had been reduced, as well as a town house in  Monterrey where much of their industrial interest was concentrated, and a  luxurious villa near Acapulco. Nicola gathered that Teresita's father  had been a business colleague of Don Luis, and this was why she had been  assigned to his guardianship after her parents had been tragically  drowned in a Slash-flood some years before.                       
       
           



       

Clearly, his guardianship operated more on a financial and business  level than a personal one. Teresita had admitted candidly that it was  over a year since he had visited her, and she seemed more relieved than  otherwise at this state of affairs.

Clearly he was the type of aloof and imposing grandee who would be  incapable of putting a young girl at her ease, Nicola thought. Teresita  always behaved as if even to talk about him was a form of lese-majeste.

Nicola could just picture him-elderly with heavy moustaches, perhaps  even a beard, probably overweight, pompous and arrogant. She hoped  fervently that Elaine was wrong and he wouldn't make an attempt to  interfere in Teresita's happiness. There was no reason why he should,  she thought. Cliff was no fortune hunter, even if he didn't have the  sort of wealth that the Montalba family had at its disposal.

She fastened the last carton, sealed and labelled it, then sat back on her heels with a sigh.

'So that's done. I could murder a cup of coffee. Do you think the machine's still working?'

'If so it's the only thing in the building that is, apart from us,' said  Elaine. 'In my next life, I'm coming back as a boss. You finish up  here, and I'll go see about this coffee.'

She was gone for some time, and Nicola guessed that the machine, never  enthusiastic about its function at the best of times, had finally given  up the ghost and that Elaine had called to buy coffee at the small  restaurant a few doors away.

She wandered over to the window and stood looking down into the square.  The noise of the traffic seemed muted in the midday heat and from the  street below she could hear the plaintive strains of a barrel-organ. The  organ-grinder was there most days, and she knew his repertoire almost  by heart, but today the jangling notes seemed to hold an extra  poignancy, and she felt unbidden tears start to her eyes.

She was being a fool she told herself. What had she got to cry about?  She'd had a marvellous time in Mexico City, and within a few days she  would be embarking on the holiday of a lifetime. Unlike Elaine she had  always been fascinated by the history of the New World, and her tour had  been carefully planned to take in as many of the great archeological  sites as possible. She found herself saying some of the names under her  breath- Palenque, Uxmal, Chichen Itza. Great pyramids, towering temples,  ancient pagan gods-she'd dreamed of such things, and soon, very soon,  all her dreams would come true. So why in hell was she standing here  snivelling? She heard the outer door open and slam in the corridor, and  turned hastily, smearing the tears from her face with clumsy fingers,  hoping that Elaine would not notice or be too tactful to comment.

As the office door crashed open, she made herself smile.

'You've been long enough,' she began teasingly. 'Did you have to pick the beans personally or...'

She stopped short, her eyes widening in disbelief as she studied the dishevelled, woebegone figure in front of her.

'Teresita!' she gasped. 'Querida, what is it? Has something happened?  Are you ill?' Her heart sank as she saw Teresita's brimming eyes.  'Cliff-oh, my God, has something happened to Cliff?'

'No,' Teresita said. 'He is well-he is fine-and I shall never see him again.' And she burst into hysterical tears.

Nicola had got her into a chair and was trying to calm her when Elaine returned with two paper cups of coffee.

'I guess I should have brought something stronger,' she remarked as she put the cups down on the nearest desk. 'What's wrong?'

'I wish I knew.' Nicola scrabbled through drawers until she came across a  box of tissues in the last one. 'All she keeps saying is that she wants  to die, and begging our Lady of Guadeloupe to take her.'

Elaine raised her brows. 'Clearly, she means business. Talk to her in Spanish, Nicky. She may make more sense that way.'

Nicola mustered her thoughts and said crisply 'Stop crying, Teresita. If  we can help you we will, but first we must understand why you're so  distressed.'

Teresita was still sobbing, but she was making an effort to control  herself. When she spoke, Nicola could just make out the whispered words,  'I am to be married.'

'Yes, we know that.' Nicola passed her another tissue. 'To Cliff, just  as soon as it can be arranged- so what is there to cry about?'

Teresita shook her head. 'It is not so.' Her voice was steadying,  becoming more coherent. 'Today I visited the convent to pray in the  chapel for Cliffs safe return. The Reverend Mother, she tells me there  is a letter for me, and I see at once it is from my guardian, Don Luis. I  read the letter. Madre de Dios, I read it and I wish only to die!'

'You mean he's forbidden you to marry Cliff?' Nicola asked sharply.

'He does not yet know that Cliff exists,' Teresita said bleakly. 'Always  I have waited for the right time to tell him, because I feared his  anger.'                       
       
           



       

'Will someone please fill me in on what's going on?' Elaine demanded plaintively.

'I wish I knew myself,' said Nicola, hurriedly outlining the gist of the conversation so far.

'It's obviously this letter,' Elaine said. She crouched beside  Teresita's chair, taking her hands in hers. 'Hey, honey, what was in the  letter? Does the mighty Don Luis want you to marry someone else? Is  that it?'

Choking back a sob, Teresita nodded, and Elaine darted Nicola a sober  glance which said 'I told you so' more clearly and loudly than any words  could have done.

'Tomorrow,' Teresita said. 'Tomorrow I must leave Mexico City and travel to Monterrey with Ramon. Later we shall be married.'

'You and this Ramon? Just like that?' Nicola demanded, horrified.

Teresita's eyes widened. 'Not Ramon, no. He is just the cousin of Don Luis. I met him once when I was a , child.'

'For heaven's sake,' Elaine muttered, and Nicola said hastily, 'I'm  sorry, darling, we're trying to understand. But if Ramon isn't the  bridegroom then who ...?'

'It is Don Luis.' Teresita's voice was flat.

Nicola muttered 'My God!' and Elaine's lips pursed in a silent whistle.

'Nice one, Don Luis,' she approved. 'Nothing like keeping the cash where it belongs-in the family.'

'It is what my father intended. I have always known this,' Teresita said  tonelessly. 'But, as time passed, and he said nothing, I began to hope  that it would never happen. A man so much older than myself, a man who  has known so many women.' For a moment, a world of knowledge that the  good sisters had never instilled showed on the heart-shaped face. 'I-I  allowed myself to hope that perhaps he would choose elsewhere- perhaps  even marry Carlota Garcia.'

'Just who is that?' Elaine asked.

Teresita gave a slight shrug. 'A-a friend of his. Her husband was a  politician. She has been a widow now for several years, and their names  have been coupled together many times. A girl-one of the boarders at the  convent-told me it was known that she was his- amiga. She said it was  impossible that he would marry me because I was too much of a child for  him, accustomed as he is to women of the world.'