~ Daughter Of Spain ~

by

Jeannine Van Eperen

Isabela returned to her room. Feeling at loose ends she picked up one item, then discarded it for another. If they were leaving at dawn, she should pack, but she had no experience with such things. Was she to take everything? There were but few things in the room that were truly hers. The frock she had worn in the dungeon was ruined and burned, leaving only her undergarments. With a great sigh, she sat down and looked about her. Gravely she considered her future. She had no money, no father, her mother walked around in a daze praying, and her own life was not one of her choice. She must marry a man she barely knew, a man who married her only out of some misguided sense of duty, but who would never love her. She always knew she would have nothing to say about whom she would spend the rest of her life, but she had hoped she might wed someone who would cherish her. Don Carlos Rodrigo Fresquez, Duque de Malagón, was all that most young women could desire, handsome, debonair, and rich with many land holdings. Alas no, his lands now confiscated, his title stripped from him. Somehow, he had arranged passage to Mexico for his household, and now that household included her and her mother as well as for Pablo and Luisa who must be persuaded to leave Spain to attend her.

Isabela sank down onto a chair near her bed. Try as she may, she could not get the memory of Carlos’ lips on hers out of her mind, and for some reason, her heart flipped whenever she thought of him. She spoke his name aloud, softly. “Carlos. Carlos, my husband.” Yes, the strange sensation swept through her. The tingling sensation receded lower in her body, making her giddy. What would Mama say of such feelings? Or Luisa? Dare she ask them? Was it fitting for a girl to yearn for the touch of a man’s lips against hers?

~ * ~

Restlessly, Isabela left her room again and walked through the corridors towards Don Carlos’ sanctuary, his study. Perhaps she should tell him of the feelings his kiss inspired. She found the door ajar and voices greeted her ears.

Carlos and another spoke as they packed his personal, indispensable items. “That painting must come with us,” she heard Carlos say. “We must handle it carefully. Yes, and that one also. Even though I am leaving, I must bring part of my heritage with me. Who knows what we will find in the new land? I must have some things of the past to give my son.”

“Ah, you will have a son?” the voice of Padre Francisco Romero said. “In nine months, I suppose.”

“I doubt it. I must marry the girl now. There is no other way, but she is so young. Padre, she knows nothing of the ways of marriage.” Carlos chuckled softly. “When I spoke of it, she understood it to be of accounts, running a household, and is eager to learn. She does not love me, and yet--”

Isabela did not hear the rest of Don Carlos’ words, for at that moment, the outer door flung open and Luisa ran to her. “My dear child, I’ve been so worried about you! You look pale. You are not eating enough,” she said as she ran to Isabela and enveloped her in her arms and cloak. “Luisa will take care of you. How is Doña Lenora? Poor woman, and poor little girl.”

Don Carlos and the priest heard the arrival and came out of the study. “Señora,” Don Carlos said. “I trust you had a good journey, and my man explained the situation. I must be brief and we must act in haste. Are you willing to leave Spain to attend Señorita Alvarez?”

“Oh, yes, Don Carlos Fresquez. I have been with Isabela since her birth.”

“Isabela and I will be married at once. We will all leave here at dawn. It is up to you to pack Isabela’s garments as well as that of Doña Lenora Alvarez. There is little time. My servants are taking care of everything else.”

“I managed to bring some of the Alvarez things with me,” Luisa said briskly, accepting the urgency Don Carlos dictated. “After the ladies were taken, I hid some of their jewels and garments. Your men helped me to bring them here.”

Don Carlos smiled. “Isabela, you are blessed to have such a competent dueña.” He took Isabela’s hand in his. “Now, my dear, we must go to the chapel where Padre Romero will unite us in matrimony. I believe your mama is already waiting for us.”

“Do you not wish her to change into another frock?” Luisa asked in astonishment.

“There is no time, and Señorita Isabela is perfect as she is,” he answered curtly. “After the ceremony you will have a few moments to talk, perhaps explain...” His voice faded as he put his arm around Isabela’s waist and led all to the chapel.