facts, of course.’
‘But you have not given up hope of obtaining the proof you need.’
He shook his head. ‘No, I have not. As for the rest, it’s still hard to accept. I always thought I would know if he were really dead, that I’d feel it in my heart. I suppose that was just a form of denial. A foolish one at that.’
‘Not foolish at all, only human. There is not a day goes by that I don’t think about my father.’
The empathy evident in her look and tone touched something deep inside him. These were things he had never discussed with anyone, until now. Being accustomed to keeping his stronger emotions out of sight this unwonted openness made him feel exposed and yet, paradoxically, comforted too. It also felt like dangerous ground. He needed to return to a surer footing.
‘I hope I haven’t come on a wild-goose chase.’
‘I think you will discover the truth eventually.’
‘I hope so.’ Harry sighed. ‘Besides, it is only just that the estate should pass to the rightful heir. I need to establish who that is.’
‘Of course.’
Discovering the facts relating to Jamie’s death was only part of the problem, but Harry knew it would not be fitting to discuss such intimate details here. All the same, it was surprisingly easy to talk to Elena. Disarmingly easy. It behoved him to be careful. Whatever his view of the matter she was forbidden fare in every way. What might be regarded as acceptable attentions to a lady in England might well be regarded as familiarity in Spain where interpretation was much stricter. When marriages were arranged here it was not unusual if the bride and groom didn’t meet until their wedding day.
That thought engendered others and he wondered what manner of man Elena’s betrothed had been that he would abandon a woman in that way. Did he know what he was losing? Had they even met? He could hardly ask her, but all the same his curiosity increased.
‘Tell me about your home,’ she went on. ‘In what part of England does it lie?’
‘The family seat is at Castonbury Park in Derbyshire. That’s roughly in the middle of the country.’
‘The Montague name is an old and respected one, I think.’
‘Our line goes back to the Norman Conquest. One of our ancestors came over with Duke William and was rewarded for his service with lands in England.’
‘Do you live in a castle, then?’
‘No, although there has been a house at Castonbury since the Middle Ages. The original one changed over time as bits were added to provide more living space. Eventually it was demolished to be replaced with the present house.’
‘It must be very grand.’
He smiled faintly. ‘Grand enough, I suppose.’
‘Do you live there all the time?’
‘No, I reside in London for the most part. My work requires it. I visit Castonbury only occasionally now.’
‘Your work is with the diplomatic service.’
‘That’s right. It’s how I was able to obtain letters of introduction to your uncle and so begin my investigations about Jamie.’
‘I wish you good fortune with that.’
‘Thank you. I …’ He broke off, seeing the familiar figure of Doña Inéz advancing down the path towards them.
Elena followed his gaze and her smile faded. Her aunt’s face suggested stern disapproval, but then it was habitual for her to look that way. Composing her own expression to impassivity, Elena waited.
Doña Inéz acknowledged Lord Henry with a curt nod and then turned to her niece. ‘You must come into the house directly, Elena. Sister Maria and Sister Angela are come to give you instruction. They have received special dispensation to do so and should not be kept waiting.’
Elena’s jaw tightened and she fought down the urge to refuse point blank and consign both the holy sisters and her aunt to perdition. However, to do so would be a serious mistake. She must continue to play along for now.
‘Very well,’ she replied. ‘I will come.’ Turning to her companion she added, ‘I hope you will excuse me, Lord Henry.’
‘Of course.’ He bowed politely, then watched the two women walk away. More than ever he felt sorry for Elena’s predicament, but unfortunately there was nothing he could do about it.
Elena maintained her impassive expression for the next hour as the two elderly nuns schooled her in preparation for entry into the convent. She kept her gaze lowered lest they should read the anger in her eyes. This wasn’t going to happen. Concha was right. Somehow they would find a way out.
Meanwhile, the nuns would almost certainly report back to her aunt so a meek and quiet demeanour seemed the best policy for now. If everyone thought she was becoming resigned to her fate, so much the better. Thus she sat without comment through a homily about the sins of pride and disobedience and the need for repentance and reparation through a life of abstinence and prayer. When at length it ended there was a detailed explanation of what would be required on admission to the holy order. That was followed by a period of compulsory prayer in which the nuns expressed the hope that she might be guided back to the path of righteousness for the salvation of her immortal soul. Elena bit her tongue. They knew, because her aunt had evidently told them, that her niece had no vocation for the religious life, but it seemed not to trouble them a whit. So far as they were concerned Elena was a fallen woman. All that mattered now was that she should comply with the wishes of her family and quietly disappear from public view. If they ever got her within the convent gates that would most assuredly happen. She gritted her teeth. Over her dead body …
When eventually it ended and she returned to her room she sent for Concha. The maid eyed her sympathetically.
‘I thought they’d never let you go. What could the old crones find to say that took so long?’
‘Don’t ask. I don’t want to insult your intelligence by repeating it.’
‘What now, Doña Elena?’
‘Can you get out of the house on some pretext or other?’
‘Of course.’
‘We need to purchase horses and have them in readiness somewhere close at hand. When we make our escape it will have to be fast and we daren’t risk taking the animals from my uncle’s stable.’
Concha grinned. ‘Leave it to me.’
‘All that remains, then, is to choose the hour. By the time these pious hypocrites realise what has happened we will be long gone.’
When Don Manuel returned home later that afternoon he sought Harry at once and found him ensconced in the library. On seeing his host enter, Harry laid aside the book he had been reading and got to his feet. Don Manuel smiled.
‘I have news which I hope will help you, Lord Henry.’
‘You have word of my brother?’
‘His name was indeed known to the Intelligence Service here. It seems that he was highly regarded by those with whom he had contact.’
Harry was quite able to believe it. Whatever Jamie had done, he had done well. ‘Did your contact know anything about my brother’s mission?’
‘Only that it was highly sensitive. However, I did discover that the Spanish cell at that time was run by a man called Pablo Garrido. Among those who worked for him was Xavier Sanchez.’
‘The person who was with my brother when the accident occurred. He must know exactly what happened. I should like above all things to speak with him and Garrido.’
‘The whereabouts of Sanchez are not known,’ replied Don Manuel. ‘As for Garrido, he retired from the service after the war and