The conversation at table ranged over various topics, all of them innocuous. Everyone was perfectly civil and nothing could have been more refined than their manners, but Harry became aware of something rather different underneath, an undercurrent of tension that he couldn’t pin down. He reminded himself again that it was none of his business, that he had come here to obtain proof of Jamie’s death. Interference in family politics was no part of his plan.
After the meal, when the ladies had withdrawn, and the gentlemen had settled down to their port and cigars, the conversation turned to other matters. Harry listened politely, though in truth his mind was preoccupied with his quest rather than the current political situation. It was only the mention of Elena’s name that drew his attention squarely back to the company.
‘...and so, after we have seen her safely admitted to the convent, I must return to my estates,’ said Don Fernando. ‘There are matters requiring my attention.’
Their host nodded. ‘Of course. It was good of you to take the time to come at all.’
‘I felt it to be my duty.’
‘A duty we all share,’ said Don Esteban. ‘The restoration of our family honour is dear to us all. A life of reflection and piety will atone for sin.’
Harry’s glass paused in mid-air and he shot a quizzical glance at the speaker. Don Manuel intercepted it.
‘You are no doubt shocked, my lord, that sin should be mentioned in the same context as my niece.’
‘I was surprised,’ Harry admitted, wondering what possible sin so lovely a creature could have committed. He could think of a few that men might want to commit with her, but such a thing would be unthinkable for a highborn young woman and one so zealously guarded.
‘My niece’s story is not one that we would wish to be generally known.’ Don Manuel eyed him keenly. ‘I am sure we may rely on your discretion.’
‘Of course.’
‘When Elena was eighteen she was betrothed to a nobleman of high standing, indeed one of the highest in the land. Unfortunately it was during a period in the war when the action intensified. My brother-in-law, her father, was killed by enemy soldiers. His death fired a young girl’s imagination with misplaced patriotic zeal and she ran off and joined a guerrilla band.’
Harry regarded him in genuine amazement. Whatever he might have imagined it wasn’t that, but then Elena seemed to defy convention in every way.
‘War affects people strangely,’ he replied, mentally including himself in that category.
Don Manuel nodded. ‘Many unfortunate events occur in times of conflict and, goodness knows, our country has seen enough of such things. They leave a bitter legacy.’
‘Yes, they do.’ Harry felt his gut tighten. The topic came too close to home, reviving memories he’d tried to bury.
‘Elena’s sisters were models of exemplary conduct. They were originally intended for marriage but, after their father’s death, they chose to enter a convent. She did neither of those things, electing instead to live with a group of men like any common drab.’
Harry barely managed to conceal his astonishment. It seemed quite incongruous to think of Elena in such a role. He had seen quite a few common drabs in his time—the army had its camp followers—but she didn’t resemble them in any way.
‘In fighting for her country her role was perhaps unusual,’ he replied, ‘but surely not dishonourable.’
‘For a woman to take up arms is unnatural. That she should live among men in that way is utterly shameless.’
Harry was tempted to probe further. Had Elena taken a lover from among the guerrilla band? It was entirely possible and yet it didn’t seem consistent with what he had seen. She was courteous and friendly but there was not the least hint of flirtatiousness in her manner. All the same, he knew better than to ask. Instead he shifted the focus of the conversation a little.
‘What of her betrothed?’
‘When he learned of her shame he ended the betrothal.’
‘I see.’
‘Elena remained with the guerrillas for two years.’ Don Manuel made a vague gesture with his hand. ‘Of course, there is no possibility of marriage for her now, and she cannot be permitted to live as a single woman. Such a thing is unheard of. The only honourable course is for her to enter a convent.’
‘We have arranged it,’ said Don Fernando.
Harry’s fingers tightened on the stem of his glass. ‘Am I to understand that Doña Elena is not in accord with this plan?’
‘She is a wilful and stubborn young woman who has erred most grievously,’ Don Fernando replied. ‘It is the responsibility of her family to put a stop to such folly. The convent will do the rest. It is a closed order and a strict one. From now on she will lead a life of piety and prayer away from the eyes of the world.’