The Daughter of Doctor Moreau(54)

“At what?”

“At roping him in. Let’s not be coy. She’s trying to get her claws into the man.”

“You don’t like her.”

“She’s pretty enough. But there’s something about her…something wanton,” Isidro said, looking uncomfortable. “She hasn’t been reared properly. No one would be, growing up in such a distant estate. And what does she have to offer him barring that pretty face?”

“Perhaps that is enough for the young master.”

“Eduardo’s emotions are like a fuse, they burn quickly. He has no patience and when he wants something, he won’t desist. What’s the girl’s lineage, anyway? Dr. Moreau may be a physician, but he doesn’t belong to any of the good families of Yucatán. God knows who her mother was. She’s a bastard girl, I know that. And she’s dark. Pretty, but dark.”

What a toad you are, he thought, though the comment was not surprising. In Mexico, as in many other parts of the world, the tree of life was firmly structured. Color and lineage determined your spot upon a branch. The Spaniards had abandoned the country, but their customs remained. The castas were real, and so were ancient prejudices. Montgomery, as a foreigner with no money, occupied a nebulous space in this intricate web of people, and he could bypass classifications. Carlota’s role, however, had been drawn with a firmer hand.

“She’s a sweet young woman. Young Lizalde is lucky to have her attention,” Montgomery said.

Isidro rearranged himself, now throwing an arm over the back of his chair. “I suppose you think he’ll marry her. But what if he takes her as his mistress? What then?”

Montgomery’s mouth twitched. “That would be unfortunate.”

“Then we begin to understand each other. I know you don’t like me, Mr. Laughton, and I don’t like you one bit. But neither of us wants Eduardo and Carlota falling into each other’s arms and causing mayhem. He’ll ruin her and then we’ll have to mop up this mess, somehow.”

“What is it that you want of me?” Montgomery asked gruffly.

“I have written a letter to my uncle urging him to come to Yaxaktun and set his son straight,” Isidro said, reaching into his jacket’s pocket and taking out a folded piece of paper. “I would have you take it to Vista Hermosa. The mayordomo there will be able to send it to the city, quick.”

“Why should I take it?”

“I can’t leave. Eduardo would know immediately that I sent the letter. I can’t have that.”

“So you’d have me serve as your courier, in secret?”

“I’m sure you can saddle a horse and make it there and back safely.”

“And ruin Carlota’s future in the process.”

“When we lived in Mexico City, Eduardo became enamored of a seamstress. He courted her for a season, loved her for another, and at the third he made a hasty retreat. How many months, do you think, would it take for him to tire of Carlota? I’m not a man who condones immorality. I don’t want to see the lady’s honor besmirched. My cousin is both foolish and impulsive.”

He thought of his sister and her monster of a husband. He had not saved Elizabeth, he had not lifted a finger to impede her marriage. Could he let Carlota be lost to a cad? Suppose he did marry her and then flung before her a string of mistresses. Or, as Isidro said, suppose he should take her as a lover for a season or two? The laws of Mexico said if a man seduced and deflowered a woman he’d have to marry her or pay restitution. And yet despite estupro being clearly defined, and the penalties it might carry, he supposed this would not soothe the girl’s wounds if she should be callously used and shunned afterward.

“Bring the matter up with her father.”

“Moreau? We both know he won’t help me and will do everything to hinder me.”

“I could hinder you, too. Let me have the letter, I’ll give it to the doctor.”

“I don’t think you will. I can tell you esteem her,” Isidro said, and he held the letter up with two fingers.

“Precisely.”

“Then do something.”

“Break her heart, you mean.”

“Better this way than the other, don’t you think?”

Montgomery stood up and snatched the letter from his hand. “I won’t promise you I’ll deliver it.”

Isidro nodded. “Fine. Think about it. I’m going to see how the game of chess is proceeding,” he announced.

Montgomery, for his part, asked Ramona to make sure Carlota had tea sent to her room later in the evening, thinking it might do her good, while he went to consult with a bottle. After a few glasses he began composing a letter of his own in his head.

    Dear Fanny,

Have you ever had the chance to do evil in order to produce some good? Carlota is a sweet girl. Too sweet to know heartache and misery. I find myself in a position to prevent said misery, and vacillate between my options. I realize what you might think: that I am merely attempting to rid myself of a rival. Yet that is preposterous, for to imagine Eduardo is my rival would imply that I have a chance to woo the girl or that I even wish to woo her. And yet I don’t, I won’t.

Fanny, when we were young, what did you ever see in me? What could a woman see in me now that the best parts of me are gone?