women stood and stared at each other in silence for several minutes. Mary wondered where Paulo’s wife was, as this could not possibly be her. Maybe she was the wife of one of the gun-wielding men, or the person who helped in the house. Paulo had mentioned that he had someone who came in to help with the heavy housework, maybe this was her. This suspicion was strengthened when the woman reached down for Mary’s suitcase and gestured for Mary to follow her into the house. Mary tried to take her suitcase herself, but the older woman would not let her and insisted on carrying it as they stepped into the hacienda.
The house was refreshingly cool and dark after the bright midday sun outside and as Mary’s eyes adjusted to the dimness she saw that she was in a huge entrance hallway with a marble floor and heavy, dark furniture. Vast, high-ceiled rooms led off to the left and right, and in front of her was a sweeping double staircase leading to the second story. However, what struck Mary most was a life-sized portrait that hung on the wall directly opposite her under the curves of the great staircase. It was of a woman in a gorgeous off-the-shoulder, full-length, scarlet dress. She had long dark hair which fell in ringlets around her shoulders and through them shone large diamond earrings, but what struck Mary most was the woman’s face. With the large, golden brown eyes, and high, sharp check bones, it was an exact replica of her own. Mary could have been looking at a portrait of herself; the only differences were the hair and the clothes. Mary turned from the portrait to the woman who stood next to her. The older woman dropped the suitcase and smoothed back a heavy strand of black hair that had fallen loose from the bun at the back of her head.
“Who is she?” Mary asked pointing at the portrait. The other woman seemed to understand her question, but Mary couldn’t follow her answer. However, she did catch the word “esposa”, which sounded a bit like the word “spouse”, so Mary guessed that this was Paulo’s wife. “Esposa de Don Paulo?” she asked.
“Si, Si!” the woman responded, looking pleased that Mary understood.
“Isabella?” Mary asked, pointing again at the picture of the woman in the beautiful dress who bore an uncanny resemblance to herself.
“Isabella? No!” the other woman laughed, “Soy Isabella,” she said, pointing to herself. “Esta es Clara de Santa Maria,” she said, lowering her voice as if she was saying the name of a saint.
Mary was thoroughly confused. She realised that the woman who stood next to her was the “wonderful Isabella” that Paulo had mentioned and she understood that the woman in the painting was someone called Clara, probably Paulo’s wife, but Paulo hadn’t mentioned her and where was his wife now? She tried asking Isabella, but Isabella didn’t understand what she was saying and Mary didn’t understand any of her responses. However, as they ascended the grand central staircase, Mary did know one thing for certain: it was creepy that this man Paulo had befriended a look-a-like of his wife, a look-a-like that was now staying in his house.
Chapter 6
Don Paulo finally returned to the hacienda several hours later. Mary was standing on the balcony outside her room admiring the stunning view when she saw his jeep come up the long driveway. He brought the vehicle to a gradual halt near the front of the house and stepped out. The other two men climbed out of the back carrying their rifles over their shoulders. All three of them walked slowly towards the house in silence with their hands hanging down. It was clear that things had not gone well. Mary waved, but none of them looked up. She guessed that they had been forced to put down the injured horse. A dead horse seemed to be a bad omen for her stay on the estate.
It was another hour before Mary heard a knock on her door. By this time, she had washed and changed and expected that
The house was refreshingly cool and dark after the bright midday sun outside and as Mary’s eyes adjusted to the dimness she saw that she was in a huge entrance hallway with a marble floor and heavy, dark furniture. Vast, high-ceiled rooms led off to the left and right, and in front of her was a sweeping double staircase leading to the second story. However, what struck Mary most was a life-sized portrait that hung on the wall directly opposite her under the curves of the great staircase. It was of a woman in a gorgeous off-the-shoulder, full-length, scarlet dress. She had long dark hair which fell in ringlets around her shoulders and through them shone large diamond earrings, but what struck Mary most was the woman’s face. With the large, golden brown eyes, and high, sharp check bones, it was an exact replica of her own. Mary could have been looking at a portrait of herself; the only differences were the hair and the clothes. Mary turned from the portrait to the woman who stood next to her. The older woman dropped the suitcase and smoothed back a heavy strand of black hair that had fallen loose from the bun at the back of her head.
“Who is she?” Mary asked pointing at the portrait. The other woman seemed to understand her question, but Mary couldn’t follow her answer. However, she did catch the word “esposa”, which sounded a bit like the word “spouse”, so Mary guessed that this was Paulo’s wife. “Esposa de Don Paulo?” she asked.
“Si, Si!” the woman responded, looking pleased that Mary understood.
“Isabella?” Mary asked, pointing again at the picture of the woman in the beautiful dress who bore an uncanny resemblance to herself.
“Isabella? No!” the other woman laughed, “Soy Isabella,” she said, pointing to herself. “Esta es Clara de Santa Maria,” she said, lowering her voice as if she was saying the name of a saint.
Mary was thoroughly confused. She realised that the woman who stood next to her was the “wonderful Isabella” that Paulo had mentioned and she understood that the woman in the painting was someone called Clara, probably Paulo’s wife, but Paulo hadn’t mentioned her and where was his wife now? She tried asking Isabella, but Isabella didn’t understand what she was saying and Mary didn’t understand any of her responses. However, as they ascended the grand central staircase, Mary did know one thing for certain: it was creepy that this man Paulo had befriended a look-a-like of his wife, a look-a-like that was now staying in his house.
Chapter 6
Don Paulo finally returned to the hacienda several hours later. Mary was standing on the balcony outside her room admiring the stunning view when she saw his jeep come up the long driveway. He brought the vehicle to a gradual halt near the front of the house and stepped out. The other two men climbed out of the back carrying their rifles over their shoulders. All three of them walked slowly towards the house in silence with their hands hanging down. It was clear that things had not gone well. Mary waved, but none of them looked up. She guessed that they had been forced to put down the injured horse. A dead horse seemed to be a bad omen for her stay on the estate.
It was another hour before Mary heard a knock on her door. By this time, she had washed and changed and expected that
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