Free (2/3) The Teeth of the Gale by Joan Aiken Page B

on actions undertaken when one was thirteen. And that journey had been a private transaction between myself and Juana; I did not like to think that it had been talked about by others. Of course I had told Grandfather about it, but that was different; he had received a letter of thanks from Juana's uncle, so all I did was confirm the letter.
    "When did you last see your cousin, Doña de la Trava?" I inquired, in order to say something, as the horses moved forward.
    "Oh, it was at least three years ago. When she was staying at her house in France, settling the affairs of her brother who died. Poor little Juana! She was so young to inherit all those cares."
    She would have had even more cares if her brother had not died, I thought; since he had paid some brigands to abduct and murder her. Apparently Doña Conchita did not know that.
    "I went to stay with Juana in France when my children Nico and Luisa were six and five. Ah, they loved her so dearly! The youngest was not yet born."
    "Tell me about your children, señora," I said. "Why has their father abducted them?"
    "The wretch! It is because he pretends to love them."
    "Does he not do so really?"
    "How can he? He is mad! A madman! He has threatened to do terrible things—he said he would kill us with an axe! I am so afraid of what he will do to my poor babies—"
    I asked how long Don Manual had been like this, but she became vague. For a number of years, I gathered, he had steadily been growing more difficult, passionate, and ungovernable.
    "And his opinions! So wild! And his behavior harsh to me—uncivil—savage to my friends!"
    "Where were you living at this time?"
    "In Madrid."
    I asked if her husband had a profession, and she replied rather coldly that he had no need to work for his living, being a nobleman, Grandes de España.
    "And then," she said, "after—after he had become too wild and unreliable to be endured any longer, he—he was arrested and flung into jail for his seditious political opinions. So I returned here, with the children, to my parents' house. But Manuel—but he managed somehow to escape from the prison; and he followed us secretly—and one day, when I was out and my parents were not at home—he—he took them—" Her voice trembled, and she touched a handkerchief to her eyes, under the veil.
    "How long ago was this, señora?" I asked quietly, when I judged she had had time to recover herself.
    "Two months ago."
    "Two months—
ay, Dios!
" It had taken about four weeks, I supposed, for Juana to be transferred from Bayonne to Bilbao, and for me to be summoned from Salamanca. What had happened during the first month?
    "Have you any idea where he has taken the children?"
    "Somewhere in Aragon, I am sure. He went first to Berdun, where his brother lives, Don Ignacio de la Trava. But his brother would not permit him to stay in his house, and he wrote to me, telling that Manuel had been there. And then—then I had a letter from—from one of my children—"
    The little sob she gave was very pitiful.
    "Manuel kept them locked up. Would you believe? But a servant girl at an inn was sorry for them and permitted Luisa to write a note, and arranged for it to be sent."
    Locked up, I thought. Heavens, what a situation.
    "The girl is the oldest?"
    "No, her brother is. But she writes better. Nico is slow—but a sweet, good boy," she added hastily.
    "And the little one—the youngest?"
    "Why, here we are!" she exclaimed. "How quickly Tomas has driven us."
    It had been hard, in the dusk and the rain, to see which way we went. We had circled round the outskirts of the town, avoiding the center. Conchita's parents must reside somewhere out in the suburbs; I caught dim glimpses of what seemed a large new villa, set among flowering trees and shrubs. I was led through a lobby and a courtyard into a large salon filled with very handsome furniture. Compared with this place, I thought idly, my grandfather's rooms at Villaverde would seem sadly shabby. Everything here