The Ornaments of Love

Chapter Thirteen

The hundred little reminders that had crossed the Marquesa's lips over the past forty-eight hours produced not the slightest worry in Veronica. They were quite unable to make their way into her heart. Still, the girl made a genuine note of each one. Her reminders were of behavior methods so finely tuned that her aunt might very well have been a mistress in a finishing school. The Marquesa's fervor became a living memento of Veronica's former convent life, though she laughed at the idea of her aunt in a nun's habit. But all of it was unnecessary because Veronica had changed beyond repair. The awkward little child was simply no more and left in her wake was a young woman who had not the patience for apprehensive thoughts of accidents or failure.

Still, riding in the Marquesa's carriage to the Ferrero estate, it was beyond the woman's control not to go on and on about every conceivable position the girl might find herself in, once within her hostess's doors.

"And be sure that you ask his mother about her gardens. She is ferociously jealous of our estate, despite how much grander her garden is. Be sure to remark more than once how it is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. That's important."

Veronica stifled the inclination to roll her eyes on this fourth occasion when she must be reminded about the woman's rose bushes.

"And don't forget the woman will be scrutinizing you from the moment you arrive. I've no doubt she has gone out of her way to find out everything about you that she can. And though she's had only the last two days, you can be sure she knows everything about your background. God only knows what she's heard! God knows what the servant's gossip has been, what they might believe of you! We must make every effort to receive each misinformed query without a hint of disturbance. She will be like a lion, this woman, and you must be sure that she does not find a single reason to strike too hard."

Veronica mentally felt a blow when she imagined Doña de Ferrero striking her with questions. She shuddered slightly. Yes, indeed, she did feel as if the woman's questions would be striking and began to envisage the features of her face infused with a feline structure.

"Oh, but listen to me, I am too excited for you." Marcelina stopped herself. "And you don't let any of this worry you! I don't even know who you are anymore," Marcelina said, smiling at the girl's focused calm.

"Everything is fine, Tia. Everything will go well. None of this matters, really. There is no way that tonight will not go well. If they don't like me, then the next house will. Just sit back and breathe," she replied confidently.

Marcelina looked at her with false devastation. "You think this will all be so easy?" she said coyly. "Perhaps I have praised you too highly? This will be one of the great performances of my life. No, do not misunderstand me: any mother would be out of her right mind not to adore you. But let's face the truth, you are not Barcelonan, you are not Catalonian, and your western accent is unavoidable when you attempt to speak Catalan. You can rest assured that this woman will mention it more than once, regardless of the efforts I will make to drive around that fact.

"Underlying all of this," she continued, "I suspect what is most important to her is not finding the most perfectly suited girl for her son, but rather jumping on the opportunity to merge with my family. It would be a major coup, I should think, to find a way to be joined not just in friendship but in blood to this house. I've little doubt that everything in question is relying on my husband's name.

"But this should be of no importance to you, my dear. The woman will like you no matter what you do or how you behave. And I don't want to mislead you with all of this foolish talk. The only thing important tonight is that you make certain you approve of this boy." The Marquesa let her shoulders relax and fell back slightly into the carriage seat with a heavy sigh. "In addition to this damned woman's gardens!"