Work Text:
Night was quickly falling on the massive mansion that Diego Brando would now be calling home. The once lively reception was coming to an end and the last of the guests were finally leaving, which meant his wedding day was nearly over. That just left his wedding night to endure.
His new wife was a frequent spectator at the races and a wealthy widowed socialite named Eleanor. Since the passing of her first husband, she had been the sole proprietor of a large racehorse breeding operation in the English countryside. At 83 years old, she wasn’t in the best of health, so the two of them wouldn't be going on a proper honeymoon anytime soon. Instead, the newlyweds were simply going to remain at their estate as if it were any other night.
“Our estate,” Diego pondered. “My estate. I have an estate.”
To say that he’d been well received by those in Eleanor’s social circle would be nothing short of a lie. Since the day he approached her at the racetrack and formally asked to court her, he’d been met with scornful looks from all of her friends. Somehow, their reproach did little to dissuade her from becoming involved with a 20-year-old hot-shot jockey. A few weeks later, Diego proposed. To his surprise, she said yes, seemingly without reservation. Fellow racers began asking questions, and even more of the spectators from the elite class began to openly disapprove. He remembered Eleanor telling him to pay them no mind. “They’re just jealous because their husbands are all old and dull while I have a strapping young man by my side.”
Diego’s stomach turned at the notion. He’d never given much thought to the affairs of the bedroom, especially not with a woman over four times his age. Sure, an occasional stablehand or fellow jockey might catch his eye, but Diego was too busy building an empire with his racing career and other schemes to care much about pursuing an earnest romance. An empire, he mused. This marriage was just another rung on the social ladder as far as he was concerned. Eleanor likely wouldn’t live much longer, and with no children, he’d be the one to inherit her fortune. Diego smiled a bit at that. If a few rounds in the bedroom with an old woman would all but ensure a comfortable financial future, so be it. That didn’t mean he’d have to enjoy it though.
Suddenly, Diego felt a small pair of hands gently wrapping themselves around his arm. Shaken from his thoughts, he looked down to see Eleanor smiling up at him. “Darling, I believe I’m ready to retire for the evening.”
Even at 5’7”, Diego towered above his bride. She looked so frail yet so dignified today. Rather than having a new dress made, Eleanor had opted to wear her favorite formal outfit: a pale blue skirt and bodice ensemble with a simple black wool headpiece. However, she insisted that Diego be fitted for a new suit for the occasion. He sported a black blazer with matching black trousers and a white shirt with a pale blue necktie to match Eleanor’s dress. He was also wearing a black top hat, which only made him feel a little silly given his stature. He’d never had a proper suit of his own before, but he hoped it would be the first of many fine garments that he’d be adding to his wardrobe.
Diego gently placed his hand atop hers and smiled politely. “Of course, my dear. Shall we go, then?” Before she had a chance to respond, Diego leaned down and scooped her into his arms. A wry smile spread across his face as he heard her let out an undignified little giggle. One of the lingering guests cast the pair a thoroughly disgusted glare, which only made Diego’s smile grow. He gracefully ascended the staircase with his wife carefully cradled in his arms, taking her straight to her—their, he reminded himself—bedroom, and gently placed her on the bed before turning to lock the door. He took a deep breath while he had his back turned to bolster himself for what was about to happen. The time had come. There’s no backing down now.
To his surprise, when he turned back to face his bride, she was simply sitting on the side of the bed. She hadn’t removed any article of clothing, not even her headpiece. In addition to all of her wedding clothes, she also wore a warm smile, not at all a face of lust or desire. The confusion must have been obvious on Diego’s face. She softly patted the mattress by her side and said, “Dear, come have a seat with me, will you?”
Diego removed his hat and loosened his tie as he crossed the room and sat by her side. He mirrored her smile in an attempt to quell his own perplexion. “Shall I remove your shoes for you?”
Rather than answer that, Eleanor’s face turned solemn as she looked him directly in the eyes. “I’d like to have a chat with you, Mr. Brando.”
A feeling of panic washed through Diego’s entire being. She knew. She had to know what his true intentions were. She knew the whole affair was a sham. Diego wasn’t sure what she might try to do to him, and he was fairly certain that he could counter anything she might try, but still he felt afraid. He couldn’t afford to show it though. “Certainly. Let’s chat,” he replied, his tone unfazed.
“I know who you really are,” she began, “and I know why you’re really here.”
Diego couldn’t let her have the upper hand here. He chuckled politely, “Oh? What do you know about me, pray tell?”
Eleanor’s eyes never left his as she spoke. “Oh my dear boy, I know plenty about you. A young mother and her newborn son suddenly show up on a rural ranch, and then that boy grows up to be one of the most naturally talented jockeys the horse racing world has ever seen. But a lot more than that happened in the years between, didn’t it, love?”
Diego’s eyes widened involuntarily at the mention of his mother. Where on earth did she hear about that? She continued, “One of my old stablehands used to work on the very farm where you grew up. When you won your first national level race, no one had ever heard the name Brando before. Most successful jockeys on the circuit come from affluent families, so an unknown name like yours caught everyone’s attention. My friends and I all wondered where you could have possibly come from. That’s when my stablehand told me the story of a brave young mother without a pound to her name who sacrificed the very hands she worked with in order to feed her young child.”
Diego felt his breathing becoming unsteady. Was this her plan? To cruelly chide him, a commoner, for trying to make something of himself by reminding him of the tragic death of the one person he’d ever really loved? “I can’t imagine what it must have been like,” Eleanor’s voice had suddenly become gentle. She reached over to take Diego’s hand. “Growing up in a barn, sleeping among prized horses that were treated better than you, a human being. I’ve never known want in my entire life. My father inherited his father’s horse breeding empire, and my husband was involved in overseas trading, so money has never been a concern for me.”
She paused for a moment as if she were collecting her thoughts, but Diego didn’t dare to interject. It startled him a bit when she finally spoke again. “All a mum ever wants for her children is for them to grow up and have a better life than she had. No matter how wealthy the mum, that’s her hope. I never told the others in my circle about your origins. There’s no shame in overcoming adversity, but high society can be cruel. I thought it best to leave the pride of the Brando name intact by saying nothing.”
Stunned, Diego took a moment to clear his throat before he responded. “I thank you, then. It’s been my intention since I began racing to make a name for myself, which I believe I’ve done quite well.”
Eleanor let out a little laugh at that. “Your rise to stardom. It’s been brilliant to watch, really. The ladies and I have watched you win again and again. You’re truly incredible!”
A prideful smile spread across Diego’s face. “Why, thank you, my dear.”
She continued, “I started feeling a sense of pride when I saw your name with the number one next to it, and you weren’t even riding one of my stable’s horses. I… I suppose I became fond of you. Knowing your story, I wanted to see you succeed.” Eleanor turned to face Diego with her full body this time, taking one of his hands in both of hers. “When I found out you wanted to court me, oh, how I laughed. An old biddy like me?” A smug smirk tugged at her wrinkled lips. “I saw right through you from the very beginning.”
Diego laughed nervously. “I hardly know what you mean.”
“Diego, please. What business do you have marrying a woman my age? You can’t possibly believe that I’d be able to give you a child.”
“W-Well, no,” he stammered.
“I’m 83 years old. I’m not much longer for this world, I’m afraid. I lost my husband decades ago, and then our only child died in an accident when he was just 10 years old. I’ve no one to leave my fortune to. Of course I denied those speculations when my friends brought it up, but I knew what you were after.”
He averted his eyes. So, his seemingly perfect plan had been foiled before it even began. “Is this where you dismiss me, then?” he asked somberly.
Eleanor shook her head simply. “I can truly think of no better beneficiary than you.”
Diego’s eyes shot back to face her. “Me? But… but why? You just admitted that you’ve always known my intentions.”
“Indeed.”
“And you wish to reward my deception by willing everything you have to me?”
“There’s a difference, you see,” she said, all the while patting his hand. “There’s a difference between greed and the desire to survive. Stray animals hoard food out of fear that they’ll never eat again while housepets sometimes won’t even touch their dinners.”
He laughed dryly. “So it’s pity, then?”
She shook her head once more. “All your life, you’ve had to fight to survive. I don’t see eyes filled with greed when I look at you. I simply see a young man still fighting to make a comfortable life for himself. By whatever means necessary, you’ve planned to surpass your roots, even if that means marrying an old widow like me.”
Diego was thoroughly shocked. How could she not think ill of him after all that he’d done? He’d heard how the other women in Eleanor’s circle spoke of him when they thought he couldn’t hear. “Wicked child.” “Wretched thing.” “Loathsome leech.” “Scary.” “Monster.” He sort of felt like he deserved those comments. She was right, he did plan to use whatever means necessary to get to the top. From the top he could exact revenge on the ones who cast him and his mother aside when he was young. And if the other members of high society decided he didn’t belong with them either, he’d find a way to reign over them too.
“Your mother had that same fiery ambition within her, I’m sure of it,” Eleanor spoke up, shaking him from his thoughts. “Her babe was going to live by whatever means necessary, even to her detriment. I must confess, I admire the Brando ambition. I’d like to think I’d do the same for my son if he were alive.”
Diego watched as Eleanor extended a hand to wipe his eyes. He hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. She smiled gently and continued, “I hope this doesn’t sound patronizing, but when I look at you, I want to protect you. Perhaps it’s something maternal stirring in me for the first time in decades, but I want you to succeed in your goal. So long as I’m alive, I want you to know that it’s safe to let down your barriers with me. You don’t have to worry about planning your next move. You can simply breathe and be Diego.”
Diego nodded briefly before burying his face in her shoulder to sob. For the first time in 14 years, he felt like someone was genuinely on his side. Like maybe all humans weren’t so horrid. Like his mother had never left him. He could feel Eleanor running her fingers through his long hair and patting him on the back. “There there, love. It’s all right.”
After a few minutes, he composed himself and sat back up straight. “So then,” he started with a small sniffle, “I don’t suppose you want to consummate this marriage, do you?”
Eleanor laughed. “Heavens no. I’m old enough to be your grandmother, pet. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Diego couldn’t help but chuckle at that too, both humored and relieved. She spoke up again, “But will you indulge an old woman with a kiss?”
Still smiling, Diego leaned forward and kissed his wife on the forehead, the same way he’d imagine a doting grandchild would kiss their grandmother. “Are you sure you don’t want to annul the wedding? It isn’t too late.”
Eleanor gave Diego a warm smile. “I’ll wear the Brando name with pride until the end of my days.”
Epilogue:
Six months later, Eleanor Brando developed pneumonia. Her dutiful young husband stayed by her side for several hours every day and helped tend to her every need. Within a few days, she peacefully passed in the same bed where the pair spent their wedding night while holding her darling Diego’s hand.
The reading of the will went exactly how everyone suspected it would: Diego would inherit everything. The mansion, the horses, the money, everything. Knowing that her husband would likely remarry after her departure, Eleanor had also chosen to be buried in her family’s plot in the cemetery at the local church. Diego found it a bit odd that she wouldn’t want to be buried alongside her first husband, but he supposed this choice was partly about keeping up appearances. After all, people would talk even more than they already were if she openly stated that she wanted her final resting place to be by the side of a man she hadn’t seen in 50 years, as if she still considered him her beloved.
The sky was a solemn shade of gray on the day of the funeral. Aside from Diego, some of Eleanor’s fellow race spectating friends attended the service along with several of the staff members from her mansion. Most everyone remained composed at the graveside with only a handful of dignified tears that were quickly collected by the finest lace handkerchiefs in all of England. Then the tombstone was uncovered, and Diego’s breathing hitched.
Eleanor Brando
1807-1890
Beloved wife, mother, and friend
With that, Diego began to openly weep. He heard one of the socialites whisper to another, “Crocodile tears,” but he paid them no mind. He knew in his heart that she had loved him, and he knew that he had truly loved her as well.