Page 18 of The Familiar

Luzia tried not to stare and performed her best curtsy, which was as bad as it had been the previous day. Of all the things she had imagined, Don Víctor in this room, in this moment, hadn’t entered her mind.

Marius’s chest swelled a little more. “Don Víctor has heard of your talents and has offered to become your patron.”

Patron. In any other context, it would have been an obscene proposition. Hualit had told Luzia about the first time she met Víctor de Paredes, how he’d seen her carriage in the gardens of the Prado and approached her, how she’d told him her name was Catalina de Castro de Oro instead of Hualit Cana, and that she was a widow so that he would know she could be had without concern for her virtue or at risk of angering some proud father. Neither the name nor the dead husband were real, but they did the job of any good story and opened the door to possibility. Mere days later he’d arrived at her house with an emerald the size of a walnut and asked to become her patron. Or at least that was the story Hualit told. For the first time, Luzia wondered if it was true. If life could ever be so easy, even for a woman as beautiful as Hualit.

Luzia wasn’t sure if she was supposed to look surprised or happy or fearful, so she stared dully at her shoes. Better they think her a lump of clay, suitable for molding.

“Patron, señor?” she mumbled.

“He will see you educated and appropriately dressed for an audience with Antonio Pérez.”

When Luzia stayed silent, Marius cleared his throat. “Say that you are thankful and praise God for Don Víctor’s generosity.”

Luzia knew she should simply echo Marius, but the words on her tongue somehow twisted themselves. “I thank God for the generosity of selfless men.”

“Very good,” said Marius, relieved that she hadn’t embarrassed him. “You will begin your lessons today.”

“Walk with me, dear Luzia,” said Don Víctor.

He offered her his arm and as they set off down the hall, his hand slid around her wrist.

“You will think carefully before you speak from now on, preciosa,” he whispered. “I am not quite the fool Don Marius is, and you are not quite the dullard you pretend to be. Let us both remember.”

His hand squeezed harder and she felt the small bones in her wrist bend. Luzia sucked in a breath but didn’t scream. Behind them, she could hear Marius and Valentina whispering to each other, trailing them like attendants.

Luzia nodded and stayed silent, as Don Víctor chattered on about the many rooms of La Casilla and the glory of the grounds and how they would need clothes for various meals and performances. Luzia’s wrist throbbed but she ignored the pain. Yes, she would remember. She would be more careful. She had wished for a beneficent king, and if Víctor de Paredes wished to play the role then she would happily be the peasant girl he rescued. She would curb her tongue and master her curtsy and she would find a way to make a success of this. She would snatch this opportunity from the shark’s mouth if she could only find a way.

Luzia looked back and saw Don Marius beaming. Valentina, walking two steps behind, merely looked nervous.

She felt as if she was being brought to some altar of sacrifice, but it was only the room on the house’s second floor they used for storing linen. It was meant to be a nursery, but no children had ever come. Now the stacks of blankets and draperies were gone and the narrow bed on which they’d been placed had been made up. By whom? she wondered. Had Valentina beat the mattress? Aired the sheets? Smoothed the coverlet?

“Don Víctor asked to see your room,” said Don Marius, staring hard at Luzia. “He is most concerned for your well-being.”

So they didn’t want the great man to know his milagrera slept in the larder.

“Perhaps she would be better served by private apartments in my home,” Don Víctor said. “There is plenty of room, and there she might have her lessons without interruption or inconvenience.”

Luzia did not like that thought. Just yesterday she would have jumped at the chance to be a servant in such a man’s home, surrounded by wealth and plenty. But her wrist ached and she didn’t want to imagine what might happen to her under Don Víctor’s roof.

“We couldn’t take advantage of your hospitality,” Marius sputtered.

Valentina looped her arm through Luzia’s elbow and Luzia tried not to startle. “Don Víctor, you are too kind, but this is all so new for Luzia, and she has been in our household for years. It’s best that she remain somewhere familiar, among people she knows.”

Marius looked stunned at the way his wife had routed Don Víctor, and Luzia couldn’t say she wasn’t impressed. If the fear of losing me is enough to marshal Valentina’s wit, Luzia marveled, I must be very valuable indeed.

Luzia waited, suspended, a wishbone caught between Don Víctor’s arm and Valentina’s elbow. The Ordoños weren’t willing to relinquish her easily. She was their servant, their unexpected treasure, plunder from an unknown country. But if Víctor de Paredes wanted her in his household, Luzia had no doubt he would have his way. In fact, he could simply offer her more wages and she would walk out the door with him right now. Money was a wonderful tonic for fear.

Instead he smiled and dipped his chin the barest amount, the gracious loser. Luzia had the sense he hadn’t lost at all. He wanted her here in this house, under the Ordoños’ roof, not his own. Yet another mystery for her to try to unravel.

“Let us discuss terms,” Don Víctor said to Marius. “We are at the start of a great adventure, my friend.”

When Marius and Don Víctor had gone, Valentina said, “It is all very good fortune.”

She had posed no question, but seemed to be waiting for a response, so Luzia simply said, “Yes.”

“I have seen Don Víctor’s palace. He had it built near the gardens of the Alcázar. It sits in such a way that one has a view of parks and meadows from nearly every window. One might forget one is in the city at all. Or so I’ve been told.”

“Then he is very wealthy.”