The Ornaments of Love

Chapter Five

The gentle sounds of the wind pushing through the ancient trees outside her bedroom, so lovingly manicured, finally woke Veronica by mid-morning. It was a rather disturbing feeling not to be woken at dawn, made to dress and present herself down at the breakfast table. In this house, no one rose very early. The words 'sunrise' and 'dawn' may very well have not have existed in her aunt's vocabulary, she mused. She had never felt this awake before.

The warm breezes let into her room as she opened her balcony doors greeted Veronica with a delicious fragrance, reminding her of the sweet heaven she'd brought herself to. As she stepped out onto her terrace, her nightgown caught in the wind with thrilling energy, caressing her legs and giving her a distinct feeling of peace.

Returning to her room when her lungs had enjoyed enough of the brilliant day, she noticed that according to the small clock on her nightstand, it was more than half past nine. She had never slept this late in her life and she felt almost disabled by it. The morning was near over and she had slept right through it. Though Veronica felt panicked as if she had committed some sort of crime, she devoured the terrific sensation in her body brought about by her long night's rest. If the people of Castell de Amontoní were accustomed to this, she was certain she might never fit in.

She tried in vain for several minutes to collect a measure of strength before ringing for her maid. And in spite of her relentless speed in dressing, Veronica arrived in the downstairs parlor looking as fresh as she could have hoped to.

It was only upon reaching the parlor floor that she realized she was alone in the house, aside from the servants, who were barely starting the day themselves. The only sound came from the ticking clocks in every room; all other residents were still asleep. She walked through the various rooms and hallways of the first floor before realizing it had been pointless to take such effort in dressing so soon.

Determining that breakfast was far from being served, she returned to the main parlor. Her aunt's maid, Dolça, called to Veronica and informed her that the Marquesa wished for the girl to visit her suite when she had awoken. The maid added that the Marquesa had not quite risen, but that Veronica could be let into the suite's private drawing room now, if she promised to remain quiet.

Eager to be shown to the very door she had wanted knock down last night, Veronica rose at the chance to settle the question of what had become of General de Flores. The passion of her curiosity was still alive as she followed the elderly woman swiftly up the grand marble staircase and back to the third floor.

Her eyes were struck by the beautiful sunlight pouring through the drawn curtains as she entered. It shone like a torch ablaze in the room, drenching the lovely fabrics of the furniture and polished wood of the floor with a celestial fire. The doors to the Marquesa's private balcony were open and the exquisite view of the grounds and sea beyond, even more breathtaking than that seen from her own room, captured Veronica's attentions as she strolled thoughtlessly to witness it.

Alone in the drawing room, Veronica explored every inch of it. She had never had the opportunity to visit this room, and it was a rare experience for anyone but the servants to enter in the Marquesa's absence, even if the woman was only behind the second set of doors. As Veronica examined her aunt's secrétaire, a huge gilded structure of pearlescent white trimmed with gold in the far recess of the room, Marcelina appeared, dressed in a cream-colored nightgown and dark-blue satin robe. With a lovely smile, she walked casually to the girl from the bedroom to reveal the sight of the naked General sleeping, mangled in the linens of the huge canopy bed beyond.

Veronica knew she would die; she could feel every ounce of blood depart the vessels of her skin. The cold essence of death crept slowly through her body and she didn't know how to disguise her astonishment. She had never fainted before but felt that if any sensation designated a precursor to fainting, then she was most certainly feeling it now. The air in her throat made her choke as if filled with poison. She had to somehow escape from the room.