At the Villa Massina (4 page)

Inez came in quietly and graciously. “The children are resting?” she asked.

“They’re having fruit juice and biscuits in the kitchen. Will you have coffee or chocolate, senora?”

“Thank you, no. I have just had coffee with friends.” She sat down in one of the high-backed armchairs, drew black gloves from her fingers. “Since you arrived I have promised myself I would come and see you alone; it is the only way one can really talk.”

This sounded promising, or perhaps ominous. Juliet wished she could make up her mind about Inez de Vedro. In a very cool way she was sweet and appealing, yet there was a neutralness about her. She looked so lovely with her long patrician features, but there was something missing; the faculty of expressing emotion, perhaps. Yet she was a widow; she must know something about emotion.

“I’m very glad to see you here,” said Juliet valiantly. “I hope your ankle is quite better now?”

“Oh, yes. It was never very bad.” She smiled and leaned back slightly, her white hands together on the gloves in her lap. “You are enjoying San Federigo, Miss Darrell?”

“Very much. I’m beginning to wish I could stay indefinitely.”

“But why not? I am sure Ruy and Norma would be overjoyed to have you remain for as long as you wish.”

Juliet did not mention her job. She smiled and gave a small English shrug. “Perhaps good things should not last too long.”

Inez lowered her eyelids. “It depends on what is the good thing, does it not? An evening out, a month of holiday, a marriage...”

Juliet was stricken. “Senora,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean to refer to anything like that! I was hardly thinking when I spoke.”

“Do not be concerned,” Inez said quietly. “It is five years since my husband died, and our marriage was brief. Perhaps it is natural that I should remember it as something rather wonderful which had to end. But wonderful things which are gone from us leave a blankness.”

“Of course. I’m so sorry to remind you of it.”

Inez smiled faintly. “No, it is as well to be reminded. When I do not remember I become a little inhuman, and think only in terms of names and places. That is how I have been with Ramiro. I adore him, naturally, but...” She stopped, then added, “I think too much of this marriage of his. There are the estates and the name, this anxiety that he should lead a happy, normal existence with the right woman. I find myself even a little angry with him sometimes.”

“With the Conde?”

“Unbelievable, is it not? But he will always please himself.” She hesitated, aware possibly that she was saying more than she should; then she went on, “You have met Elena de Mendoza. To me, she would be the perfect wife for Ramiro, and he has even admitted to a fondness for her. Yet this morning he has gone out in the yacht with the da Silvas—simply because Lupita begged to go to sea in the rain!”

Lupita, decided Juliet, must be another of the eligibles. She sounded as if she had rather more spirit than the dispassionate Elena. How funny if the Conde were to fall in love with certain qualities in all three of the chosen women. That would present a problem which even he might be unable to solve!

“You were going to speak, senorita?” asked Inez politely.

“I’m hardly in a position to express an opinion about it, am I?”

“I am not sure.” The dark glance was reflective. “You are new here and you are not Spanish. It seems to me that you must see us very objectively, almost like people on a stage. You have a fleeting glimpse of our feelings and the way we conduct our lives. I believe you are intelligent enough to draw certain conclusions.”

“They’d be faulty,” said Juliet firmly. She certainly had no intention of stating her private views about the Castillo and its occupants. “I should imagine that the Conde has never been persuaded or guided in his life.”

“How very true.” Inez sighed. “Always he has known instinctively the right thing to do; therefore, I should be glad that he now feels it is correct for him to choose a wife. But he has been here some weeks, and it seems to me he should by now be showing some preference for one particular woman. Let us hope it will come.” She brightened a little. “Once my brother is married I shall take a holiday. I have a wish to visit England and other places in Europe, and I think I can persuade some friends to accompany me. I believe the theatre is very much alive in London?”

The subject was safe and vast. Long before they tired of it the children came in, and though Inez expected them to sit quietly and speak only when they were addressed, they did provide relief. Inez had been at the villa an hour when she rose, tall and slender in a narrow black suit, to say goodbye.

They all went out with her to the car, in which the chauffeur had patiently waited. The man swiftly opened the door, but Inez did not at once get into her seat. She stood looking about her at the flowers and trees, at the coral and blue hydrangeas in their tubs, and she glanced up at the old tiled roof of the villa.

“This is small but a fine old house,” she commented. “The aunt who gave it to Ruy Colmeiro always had the wish that he would bring his wife here permanently. She felt he should conduct his business from Malaga or Cadiz.”

“That was before he married an Englishwoman.”

“Yes. I am afraid she would not have liked that. But such things happen. There was a time when I felt the same; even now, with Ruy as an example, I am not sure that it is an entirely good thing. Yet...” she tailed off with a smile, then said, “You are not here for long enough to be tempted by our young men, Miss Darrell, but I wonder how they regard those grey eyes, and that short golden hair of yours? I must ask one of them.”

This, presumably, was a jest which required no reply. Inez turned as if to get into the car, but before she could do so there came the slight roar of another car out on the road. It must have pulled up beyond the hedge, for the engine stopped and a door slammed. Juliet looked along the path towards the wide gateway. She saw a man appear, a fairly tall man with a thin tanned face and a slight droop to his shoulders. He wore corduroy slacks and a tweed jacket, and at his throat a faded green scarf was tucked carelessly into the open neck of a dark shirt.

He came up the path with a faint smile on his lips, gave the suggestion of a bow as he looked first at Juliet, then at Inez. But Inez gave him no time to speak. She got into the car and sat back, lifted a cool hand towards Juliet and the children, and instructed the chauffeur to drive away. The long blue vehicle departed, and Juliet was left facing the stranger.

He turned back from watching the last of the receding car, and she saw that he was lined about the eyes, and that the brown hair was lightly powdered with grey at the temples. About thirty-eight, she guessed, and he’d been around a good deal. There was a carelessness in him, but he had a certain style, a certain flair.

“Good morning,” he drawled. “May I ask who you are?”

“That’s my question, surely. For the present I belong here. Are you English?”

“I was born in England but I’ve taken Spanish nationality. My name is Lyle Whitman.”

Deep down, Juliet had known it at once, but spoken aloud the name shocked her into sudden awareness. This was the man to whom she had posted Norma’s packet. He had come here ... for what reason?

Her mouth a little dry, she turned to Rina. “Take Tony for a short walk in the garden, darling. The grass is still damp, so you must keep to the paths.” To the man who stood smiling negligently at her side, she said, “Will you come into the house? I expect you know the way.”

“No, as a matter of fact I don’t,” he said conversationally, as he went into the: porch with her and stood aside for her to enter. “I’ve only passed this place in a car.” He studied the sitting-room. “Antique Spanish. I shouldn’t have thought it would appeal to Norma.”

With some difficulty, Juliet said, “Mr. Whitman, I think I had better be very frank with you. I posted the parcel to you but I know nothing whatever about you and Norma. I didn’t even know of your existence till I found the packet in my bag, the day I arrived here. There was a note from Norma, asking me to send it from Cadiz, but it was too late for that.”

He indicated a chair, and as soon as she sat down he lowered himself comfortably into another, close by. He leaned forward, regarded her companionably for a moment.

“Look here, you don’t have to worry about my turning up here at the Villa Massina. I’m not likely to hurt anyone, and besides,” with a grin, “you’re the innocent type that the most hardened philanderer would leave alone. And I’m not hardened that way, by any means. What’s your name?”

Juliet told him, and asked. “But why have you come? Did you hope to see Norma?”

He shook his head. “Let me explain. I received the brooch and it set me thinking. By the way, if you’re interested here it is.”

He brought it from his pocket in the palm of his hand; an exquisite oval of white jade set in handworked silver. “Seen it before?”

“No. It’s lovely.”

“I got the jade some time ago. Norma admired it and I had it set for her—gave it to her when she came here last year. She returned it without explanation, so I take it she doesn’t want to know me any longer.”

“I ... I think it’s wise of her.”

The brooch was slipped back into his pocket, and he bent upon Juliet an experienced smile. “You’re shocked, aren’t you?”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“No. We were only friends.”

“She’s a married woman, and you gave her jewellery.”

“You’re one of these uncomfortably forthright and honest people, aren’t you? Do I seem awfully old?”

“Not awfully, but you’re evasive.”

“I’m only taking my time. You’re rather sweet, so I’m putting it in the best way for myself. Where were we?” He shoved a hand into his pocket, sat back and looked at her. “Oh yes. Well, the brooch arrived and set me thinking. I’m only ten miles away at Cortana, and eventually I decided to come over and make a few enquiries. I made them in San Federigo, and discovered that Norma and her husband haven’t yet arrived. That made me curious, so I drove up, meaning to have a word with a servant, if there were one around. I couldn’t imagine Norma trusting a servant with the posting of the brooch, but believe me, I never expected to come across anyone like you. I thought she might have lent the place to another married couple.”

“If she had, this visit of yours could have caused trouble.”

“Well, she’s asked for it, hasn’t she?” he said. “But when you’ve lived as long as I have, and in as many places, you can learn a good deal without giving much away. You were a surprise—the best I’ve had for a long time.”

Juliet permitted herself to smile. “I can see how you get your way with people, but with me it won’t work. I don’t suppose you’re any more to blame than Norma, and I’m only glad it wasn’t anything serious.”

He examined her small face, speculatively. “Have you ever been attracted to anyone against your will?”

“Never,” she answered, with her brief infectious laugh. “Not in the way you mean.”

“Maybe you will be, one day; it happens to many of us. I first met Norma by accident, in the market at Cortana. She’d been buying some of the lace they make in the village and couldn’t find her way back to her car. I escorted her and we talked. I found myself mentioning a small fiesta which was to take place the following week, and told her where I’d be at a certain hour. She was there, and we had some fun together.” He went on dryly, “You slip into these things almost unconsciously. For a couple of months we saw each other often. She told me she was married but never talked of her husband. That was two years ago.”

“And you were ... friends again last year?”

“It was inevitable. Norma grew tired of living the Spanish life and I provided light relief. Besides, I’m interesting, if I say it myself.” He paused. “Has she found someone else?”

“Heavens, no,” said Juliet warmly. “I suppose she realized how silly it was and tried to end it. I think it would be kind if you ignored her existence from now on.”

“Kind to Norma—but how about me?”

“Mr. Whitman,” she said firmly, “I know my cousin very well. She’ll never leave Ruy for anyone else. She loves her position in his world, both in England and in Spain. I don’t mean to be hurtful, but you have to accept the fact that she found you amusing—that’s all.”

“You’re painfully honest,” he said with a grimace, “but I can take it. For your information, there never was any thought of marriage between us. We didn’t pretend we were in love; we simply admitted to being drawn to each other and finding pleasure in the same things.”

It seemed to Juliet that he was missing the point of the discussion and trying, in a roundabout way, to justify himself. He looked all right—very attractive, really, in a rakish fashion, and she could half understand the existence of some sort of relationship between him and her poised and mature cousin. But there was something about him...

“Thank goodness,” she said quickly, “that it didn’t go deep.”

He got out cigarettes and offered them, said nonchalantly, “I told her right at the beginning that we couldn’t have been friends if she’d had children. It wouldn’t have been fair to take the risk.”

Juliet stared at him incredulously. “Are you asking me to believe that you didn’t know Norma had two children?”

His bewilderment was genuine; in some ways he might not be too scrupulous but in this he was comparatively straightlaced. He put down his unlighted cigarette, ran a finger along his lower lip.