Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) Page 14

  Marquis watched Samuel come limping out of the mine rubbing his throat. He turned away, hardly giving the old man a second thought. His heart was singing because he would soon see Valentina again. Perhaps he would have some hopeful news to tell her. "Remember, if you have lied, old man, it will not be long until you see me again," Marquis declared, despising the man who had caused Valentina such heartache.

  As he and Tomico rode away from the mine, Marquis sent a prayer to heaven that Ward Barrett was still alive. He wanted to see Valentina's face light up with joy. He wanted to hand her something to make her happy.

  11

  Salamar and Valentina had placed a daybed beneath the shade of a tall oak tree that stood majestically in the side yard. This enabled Valentina's mother to soak up the fresh air while giving her a change of scenery.

  Evonne Barrett, wearing a soft pink dressing gown, reclined on the daybed. She watched the overhead branches sway in the gentle breeze while she listened to Valentina's voice as she read the words of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. She was feeling stronger every day; the illness that had sapped her strength seemed to be lessening with the passing of time. Soothed by her daughter's voice, Evonne closed her eyes.

  Valentina glanced down at her mother, noting that she had fallen asleep. Softly she closed the book and laid it aside. Tucking the coverlet about her mother's neck, she bent and kissed her cheek. Doctor Cline had said only today that her mother was much improved and would soon be able to lead a normal life. Of course Valentina knew her mother well enough to realize that she would not completely recover until she found out if her husband were alive or dead.

  Moving across the yard, Valentina drank in the beauty of the sun-washed land. She felt good about everything these days. There was enough money so they did not have to worry about being able to pay for her mother's medicine, she and Salamar had made some much-needed improvements in the cabin, and her mother was so much better that she could now take short walks in the bright, healing California sun. There was now more color to her mother's face, and she was becoming more restless by the day, sometimes making it difficult for Valentina and Salamar to keep her in bed.

  Valentina glanced at the house where Mr. Lawton and his sister lived. She was glad the reverend was away from home. She was not looking forward to another confrontation with him. He had been less than overjoyed when she had given him the rent money. Valentina knew he had wanted her to be dependent on him. If she continued to make money, she would never have to deal with that man again. If he bothered her in the future, she would just find another place to live.

  Valentina flexed her tired muscles. She spent most afternoons reading to her mother. Later in the day, while her mother napped, she would slip away and enter the back door of the Crystal Palace that led to her dressing room. There she would practice the dance she would perform that night.

  As it turned out, Valentina had not been forced to deceive her mother about her employment. Because Salamar, Valentina, and her mother had discussed her prospective interview with Mrs. Windom, Evonne Barrett had assumed her daughter had gotten the position. Valentina felt guilty for not setting her mother straight and allowing her to draw the wrong conclusions, but she and Salamar had decided it would be best not to raise her mother's suspicions. They wanted to avoid questions they did not want to answer.

  It was always late at night when she arrived home after her performance. She would be up early in the morning so she could practice her dancing before her mother awoke. Valentina did not know how much longer she could continue at this maddening pace. Constantly with her was the fear that someone would discover that she was the dancer at the Crystal Palace and inform her mother.

  Valentina's mind moved to the dark Spaniard who seemed to occupy so much of her thoughts lately. Once in a while she would take the crumbling rose Marquis had given her and gently caress the now-dry petals. In her daydream she could almost see the way he had smiled at her, hear the tone of his deep voice, feel the touch of his hand. Now, she could almost hear the jingling sound of his spurs—

  Jerking her head around, Valentina looked down the walkway. She had heard the sound of spurs! As if thinking about him had made him appear, Marquis Vincente was walking toward her. He was dressed in the Spanish fashion she loved so well. This time he was all in blue but for the silver strips that ran the outsides of his trouser legs. Removing his low-brimmed black hat, he bowed to Valentina. His dark eyes were so expressive, she could almost read his thoughts. Valentina ran her hand down her pale yellow gown, hoping she looked her best.

  Her heart was beating so fast she could scarcely breathe as she met Marquis's bold eyes and saw that he was pleased with her appearance. When he stood before her, neither of them spoke until he smiled.

  “I wondered if you were as beautiful as I remembered. I find you even more so," he said at last.

  "I am pleased to see you, senor," she said, turning back to her mother and finding that she had awakened.

  Evonne caught the eye of the stranger and, in that moment, she knew he was the same man who had rescued her daughter. She smiled a warm welcome and he flashed her a disarming smile.

  "Mother, I would like to introduce you to Senor Marquis Vincente. He and his family so graciously took me in when I was injured in the buggy accident."

  Marquis glanced into the mother's silver eyes, thinking they were very like Valentina's. The woman, though ill, had a loveliness that reached to the soul. Marquis knew the daughter had that same kind of ageless beauty.

  "I want to extend my gratitude to you, Senor Vincente," Evonne spoke in Spanish with a heavy French accent. "My daughter is very precious to me. I will forever be in your debt."

  Marquis was amazed at Evonne's accent. "I can assure you it was our pleasure, Senora Barrett." He smiled politely to cover his astonishment. "I did not know you were French, madame. Your daughter did not tell me."

  "But yes." Evonne laughed. "I am not surprised my daughter didn't tell you, senor. You see, she thinks of me as English."

  Marquis took the delicate hand that was offered to him and raised it to his lips, then spoke to her in French. "My humble house was honored by your daughter's presence, Madame Barrett."

  The smile that passed between Marquis and Evonne was one of mutual admiration. They had shown that each could speak the other's language. "You speak French very well, Senor Vincente," Evonne told him.

  Marquis seated himself on the doorstep beside Valentina. "Your Spanish is as good as your daughter's, madame."

  "Thank you. It should be. My husband taught us both."

  Valentina watched as her mother and Marquis charmed each other. A smile tugged at her lips when they both lapsed into English.

  Marquis turned and his eyes swept Valentina's face. "So your daughter is half French, madame? An astounding combination."

  "My husband is always fond of saying that Valentina was born as a child of the world since she has traveled so extensively." Suddenly the sparkle went out of Evonne's eyes to be replaced with a glaze of sadness. "You have heard about my husband's disappearance, have you not, senor?”

  Marquis saw Evonne Barrett's eyes moisten with tears, and he spoke softly to her. "Do not grieve, madame. I have reason to believe that your husband may still be alive."

  "Have you found out anything about my father?" Valentina asked hopefully. Her eyes moved to her mother, noting the way her cheeks had paled. Valentina rushed to her side, fearing she might be having a relapse.

  "I have been to the mine and talked to your father's partner, Samuel Udell," Marquis said, drawing both women's attention. "He told me just enough for me to believe your father may be alive."

  Valentina turned to grasp Marquis's sleeve while her mother leaned back against the pillow, her face white and drained, her eyes filled with hope. "Tell me what you found out about my father," Valentina urged. "If there is the slightest hope that he is alive, I will find him."

  "You will just have to trust that I will do everything in my
power to find out if your father is alive. Do not ask me any more questions at this time. As I find out about him, I will come to you. Will you trust me on this?"

  Valentina caught and held his glance. "With all my heart I will trust you. It seems this puts me in your debt once more.

  Marquis had the strongest urge to take Valentina into his arms. He wanted to protect her so nothing ugly or unpleasant would ever touch her life. More than anything he wanted to find her father safe and well. "Give me a little more time, Senorita Barrett. I am following a lead. It may not be too long until I have some word of your father."

  "Will you not tell me what you found out?" Valentina asked.

  "It would be better not to discuss the matter at this time. I will inform you of anything I discover."

  Valentina nodded. "I will not press you further. Promise you will let me know the moment you hear anything."

  His eyes softened. He wanted to touch her, but he dared not. "I promise," he whispered huskily.

  "Tell me news of your family, Senor Vincente. How is your grandfather's health?"

  Marquis shook his head sadly. "It is not good with my grandfather. His health is very fragile." He smiled down at Valentina. "My sister sends her love along with an invitation to visit Paraiso del Norte as soon as possible."

  At that moment Salamar came out the door of the cabin carrying a tea tray. Marquis was astonished to find the maid so foreign looking. When her eyes met his, he immediately realized the intelligence of the woman. Her eyes were ageless, as if they could see right into a man's mind. In the space of an instant, Marquis realized that this strange woman knew of his confused feelings for Valentina.

  "Senor Vincente, this is my maid and companion, Salamar," Valentina said, making the introduction.

  Marquis stood up and nodded politely to Salamar. She inclined her head ever so slightly. There was no need for words between them. They each knew the other’s thoughts. Salamar was the watchdog that guarded Valentina. She let Marquis know with the merest darkening of her eyes that she would be watching him.

  Evonne, now emotionally drained, had closed her eyes and drifted into sleep. "Please do not be offended by my mother, Senor Vincente," Valentina said. "She is in ill health and falls asleep so easily."

  "There is no reason to apologize. I find your mother utterly charming. It is easy to see why your father wanted to make her his wife."

  Valentina smiled. "Yes, theirs was . . . is a very special love." Her eyes sought his, and he could see the uncertainty reflected there. "Please find my father as quickly as possible."

  "I will do all in my power, little Silver Eyes," he assured her.

  Valentina could feel the pull of Marquis's charm. She remembered the things he had said to her that night in his garden. Looking at him, she was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice trembled. "May I offer you a cup of tea, Senor Vincente?"

  "No, I must leave. I have an appointment to see an old friend. I just wanted to tell you that I looked into your father's disappearance and found reason to hope. Keep good thoughts about your father."

  Valentina wondered if the old friend Marquis was going to see could be a woman. "How can I ever thank you for all you have done for me and my mother?"

  He flashed her a smile. "I have done nothing. It is a pleasure to be of service to two such lovely ladies. I have a very good friend who lives here in San Francisco. I will ask him to pay his respects to you so that if you ever need anything, he will contact me."

  "That will not be necessary, but thank you all the same."

  "I insist. His name is Tyree Garth. He is a man who can be trusted."

  Valentina glanced quickly at Salamar and noticed the smile on her lips. Dear Lord, she thought, I can't meet Tyree Garth as Valentina Barrett! He would know immediately that Jordanna and I are the same person. "No," she said quickly, feeling panic rising inside her. "I do not need your friend. We are able to take care of ourselves."

  "I want someone here in San Francisco looking after your welfare. After all, you are three women alone. Tyree Garth can be trusted completely."

  Valentina shook her head. "I appreciate all you have done for us, but we do not need your friend. We are not your concern." She could think of no further argument to offer against meeting Tyree Garth.

  "You will always be my concern, Silver Eyes." His eyes swept hers, pulling, tugging at her heart. He was reaching for her, seeking to bring her under his spell. She lowered her eyelashes, knowing she must fight against the feelings he aroused within her young body.

  With a jingle of spurs—a sound Valentina was sure she would never forget—he replaced his hat and moved down the path. Turning back to her, he touched his fingers to the brim of his hat in a salute. "Until we meet again, Silver Eyes."

  Valentina stared after him feeling a loneliness that cut deep. She wanted to be with him. At that moment, she wanted to run after him, to declare that she loved him. Was she completely crazed! Marquis Vincente wouldn't welcome such a declaration from her.

  She felt Salamar's eyes on her and turned around. "What has he discovered about your father?" Salamar asked.

  "He said he had news that Father might be alive. I wish I had insisted he tell me all he knew." Valentina placed her hand over her heart to stop its drumming. Every time Marquis Vincente came into her life he left her feeling strangely alive and excited.

  Valentina was startled when Salamar handed her a cup of tea and said, "He is the one you will love."

  Valentina took a sip of the tea, not bothering to deny Salamar's prediction. "But will he love me, Salamar? He has promised to love another."

  "This I do not know. You will have to find the future through the passing of time."

  "I know that I love him. I am miserable because he will marry Isabel Estrada, a most unlovable person. Why did I have to love someone who can never love me?"

  "Time, Valentina . . . allow time to pass." Salamar turned away, disappearing into the cabin.

  Tyree studied the fifty-year-old brandy with appreciation before taking a sip. Rolling it around on his tongue, he smiled at his friend, Marquis Vincente. "I don't know how you came by this brandy, but I know men who would kill for just one taste."

  Marquis placed his glass on Tyree's desk and rested his hand against his black boot. "I was given a case of the brandy by my future father-in-law. I believe he came by it in Spain."

  "Well, wherever it came from, thank you for this bottle."

  Tyree and Marquis had known each other for twenty years. Tyree had been a boy of twelve when he came to California with his trapper father. Marquis's father had been attacked by a bear, and Tyree's father had come along just in time to save his life. Despite the care the Vincente family gave Tyree's father, he died of his wounds. The Vincente family had taken young Tyree into their home and he and Marquis had become like brothers.

  It had not mattered to the young boys that Marquis's family were aristocrats and Tyree's father had been only a trapper from Tennessee. It was Marquis's grandfather who had lent Tyree the money to build the Crystal Palace. The establishment had done so well that Tyree had been able to repay the loan within the first year.

  "What brings you to town, Marquis? I had thought the arrival of your new bride-to-be would keep you closer to Paraiso del Norte."

  Marquis frowned. "I came to San Francisco to aid a friend; I was hoping I might be able to enlist your help as well."

  "You know if you want my help all you have to do is ask, Marquis."

  "Are you acquainted with a ship called the Southern Cross?" Marquis inquired, taking another sip of the brandy.

  "Yes, of course. She's a frigate that sails out of Boston. Her captain is a giant redhead, and as mean as they come. I have barred him from the Crystal Palace because he and his crew invariably start a fight and break the place up."

  "Do you know when the Southern Cross is due to dock in San Francisco?"

  "No, but I can find out." Tyree looked at his friend with a puzzled expression
on his face. "Why do you need to know?"

  "I fear the father of a friend of mine has been shanghaied by the crew of that vessel. I want to find out for sure."

  Tyree's eyes danced. "Is this friend of yours male or female?"

  Marquis smiled. "She is female."

  "Friend or lover?"

  "She is an angel. You have never seen a woman like her. Her hair is golden and her eyes are like quicksilver. Her face is so perfect. She is intelligent and witty and—"

  "Enough," Tyree interrupted, laughingly holding up his hand. "You are whetting my appetite. You don't sound like a man who is about to be joined in blissful matrimony"—he arched an eyebrow—"unless the angel you are talking about happens to be your betrothed, Isabel Estrada."

  Marquis looked grim for a moment, then he shrugged. "No, I was not speaking of Isabel. My friend is in trouble and I want to help. This has nothing to do with my betrothed," Marquis said indignantly.

  "I see. . . ." Tyree laughed. "I will keep my eyes open. As soon as I have any news of the Southern Cross, I'll send word to you."

  "This is very important to me, Tyree. I am afraid for this woman. She lives alone with an ailing mother and a strange, exotic-looking maid named Salamar."

  Tyree's ears perked up at the mention of Salamar's name. He remembered that Jordanna had a maid named Salamar and decided there could not be two such women in San Francisco. The friend Marquis was talking about and his dancer, Jordanna, had to be the same person. "What is your friend's name and where does she live?" he asked. "Perhaps I can keep an eye on her for you."

  "That is what I was hoping you would say, Tyree. But I want you to understand that this woman is a real lady. She is . . . different from the women you are usually associated with. I will expect you to treat her as a lady at all times."