"Yes—Federicka has asked me to stay with her."
"Right. Stay with her. I'll see you there."
"All right, Raul."
Lucienne's horse backed away, swung around, and she waved.
Raul sent Vicente back to his Colima school in the rurales' care.
He did not get to go to Refugio, for that night Angelina returned on the train—her carriage rolled up to the house, accompanied by a guard of rurales. Greeting her calmly, Raul discovered that she was also calm, calm in an indrawn way, as if pain sucked at her, chilled her from deep within. Something dead shadowed her face. Something dead underlined her voice. She said she was ill, but this was more than the fatigue of travel. No one had told her about Refugio; that was easy to determine. She clung to his arm and asked him to have a snack with her, and yet she could eat very little. She sipped some brandy, her gaze on window, candles, door, servants, nothing for long.
He planned to tell her about Refugio in the morning, hoping she might sleep an undisturbed sleep. He would break the news as undramatically as possible.... Had something tragic happened to her in Guadalajara? Certainly something had precipitated this long train trip—to the place she hated most.
It was not until Sunday that he learned the reason for her return. She did not confide in him. He found a partly finished letter on her desk; seeing it addressed to María, he read it, hoping for a clue to her state of mind.
Dated Sunday morning, it began:
"Dear María,