Perchance to Marry (5 page)

He gave her a glass that sparkled gently, gave another to Sally and raised his own. “To all three of us,” he said, “and to Dona Inez.”

Viola sipped, her glance upon him. “Does she know—your grandmother?”

He nodded. “She’s delighted—wants to meet you both as soon as possible. I told her she could see Sally for a minute or two this evening, and that you would look in tomorrow.”

“Oh.” For a minute it seemed as if the unwanted meeting with the old
senora
had become more important to Viola than the news she had just heard. Then she sighed herself back to the present. “I do feel I should have known about this before. My only daughter falls in love with the most eligible man in the world, and I know nothing about it till she’s actually engaged! I feel cheated.”

“But you mustn’t,” said Sally, not very steadily. “After all, it’s not quite a fortnight since we first met Marcus. And there was nothing to tell till today.”

Viola sounded a little disconsolate as she answered, “I do understand. These things steal up on one so quickly, and it was really most thoughtful of Marcus to propose immediately we’d arrived, even though he may have thought it a little too early, because now we know our position in San Palos. You can’t do any nursing, of course, darling, but I should think I could still go into business. Couldn’t I, Marcus? I’d like to have an interest and a small income of my own.”

“It can all be arranged, said Marcus. The glance he sent across to Sally said, “What did I tell you? She’s accepted it like a child.” He took more of his drink. “There’s just one thing, Viola. Dona Inez is not a modern, and for that reason I didn’t tell her that Sally and I had known each other only for a short time. She assumed that I’ve known you both for a year or two in England, and I let her go on thinking that way. Anything you might say to the contrary could easily get through to her and perhaps disturb her, so will you be careful not to mention our short acquaintanceship?”

“Of course I will. I’ll say nothing whatsoever about it to anyone, and if people are nosy I’ll be vague!” Distinctly pleased with herself, Viola added, “I do realize you both let me into things as soon as you could. How long an engagement do you plan?”

“Mother...”

“We’re not sure,” said Marcus nonchalantly. “Exploring personalities takes time.”

“Naturally. How soon may I put an announcement in
The Times
?”

Marcus smiled, and in that moment the whole thing, the pain as well as the strange excitement, fell into perspective for Sally. Either she must treat this lightly or get into a frightful state over it every time it was mentioned; and seeing that the old
senora
and her mother had accepted the engagement without question, the light treatment was her only course. She lifted her head, smiled with a creditable attempt at cheerfulness and said,

“That’s for me to say, isn’t it? I want to get used to having a fiancé before I see it in black and white!”

“Naughty,” said Viola, and she laughed. She raised her glass once more. “To my two dear ones,” she said sentimentally. “I couldn’t be happier.”

Marcus sat quite relaxed, smiling enigmatically upon the scene he had produced. Sally, looking at him, wondered what he was thinking. She thought his expression changed a fraction, that a faint bitterness sharpened the smile. Was he reflecting how different this could have been had the right woman been sitting where Sally now sat? He must hate this as much as she did, perhaps even more, because if Viola Sheppard and her daughter had not slipped into his life on the “Bellesta” he wouldn’t now be living a sham. He would have come home to San Palos alone, have soothed the disappointed
senora
and got back into his former way of life. Instead of which he was living an outward happiness as well as the inward bitterness of losing a woman he had loved ... perhaps still loved.

She became conscious that he was watching her and smiling sardonically. Her small pointed chin lifted to answer his challenge; not for anything would she have him guess what was happening to her heart.

CHAPTER THREE

DONA INEZ occupied the enormous bedroom on the corner of the house which was farthest from the entrance. There were balconies on two sides, each giving a view of the gardens and distant hills, and from one of them a flight of steps gave access to a small private patio which was enclosed by pergolas smothered with roses. It was through this patio that Sally approached the bedroom with Marcus.

It was dark now, and when they arrived in the balcony lights came on, and Sally saw the white, gold and pink bedroom softly and completely illumined by wall lamps which were delicately shaded by ruched pink silk. The vast bed, its white carved headpiece touched with gold on the leaves and flowers, was covered by a light pink silk counterpane which was neatly turned back so that nothing but fine, perfumed linen touched the old lady who sat, a small figure in a white Shetland wool bed-jacket, in a nest of pillows.

Dona Inez was a legend on San Palos, and tiny and emaciated though she had now become, she was very much aware of the fact. Her hair, thin and white but beautifully piled up to make the most of it, must once have been black and lustrous, and the lovely framework of her face, stark now and overlaid by a yellowing, wrinkled skin, had certainly been arresting until a few years ago. Her hands were bony and claw-like, her shoulders sharp under the white wool, and at first view, from the balcony doorway, Sally’s reaction was one of immense compassion. Small, isolated, old, she couldn’t have much time left, and the task Sally had assumed wasn’t really big when one considered the long lifetime of loves and happiness and griefs that this indomitable little woman represented.

Not that Dona Inez was pitiable. Good heavens, those eyes! They were fierce little coals, moving hardly at all but taking in everything.

Marcus led Sally to the side of the bed. “
Madrecita,
this is Sally. You are not to say more than
bienvenida.
You understand?”

The old lady’s look at him was baleful. “You will not dictate, Marcus,” she said in a hoarse, firm little voice. “In the house and vineyards you are the master, but not in this room.” She gestured to Sally. “Come to the other side of the bed so that I can see you dearly. So.” She stared unblinkingly at the flawless young face, the graceful neck and shoulders. “How old are you?”

Marcus said mildly, “I told you there was to be no inquisition till you’re quite well. Sally’s nineteen and very sensible.”

“When I married,” stated Dona Inez, “I was eighteen and not at all sensible. I insisted on marrying an Englishman whose yacht had foundered near San Palos in a storm. When I inherited Las Vinas this husband of mine turned our pleasant old estate into a business proposition. That is an Englishman for you!” But she cast a proud smile at Marcus before looking up once more at Sally’s healthy pink cheeks. “It is good to be young and in love, no?”

“Very good,
senora
,” said Sally without a tremor.

“You feel you are capable of making a man as masterful as my grandson a good wife? But perhaps that is not a fair question; for the moment it is enough to have decided. There is one thing for which I have to thank you,
senorita
.”

“Leave it,” said Marcus. “You’re getting breathless again.”

“I am not! I have rested expressly for the purpose of this talk.
Senorita
,” directing that burning glance upwards once more, “I am very pleased you refused to marry Marcus in England. Knowing him a little, you will believe me when I tell you that at no time would he give us details about you, except that you were beautiful and willing to be his wife. So you will pardon me if I am inquisitive.”

Again Marcus spoke before Sally could answer. “You promised not to talk much. Sally has been receiving new impressions all day, and she’s tired. It’s late for you, also.”

“The child is young,” said Dona Inez, “and the young are never tired. I have been sleeping all day. So I am permitted to speak in my own room?” She went on in her regal manner, “If you find me curious during the next few days you must forgive me,
senorita.
I wish to know you, that is all. Please convey to your good mother my regret that I am unable to welcome her as I should. Tomorrow we shall meet, and later she and I will arrange the details of the wedding.”

“And now,” said Marcus, “we’ll say goodnight.”

Her smile at him had become soft and loving. “You have made me very happy today—happier than I have been for many years. This
novia
you have chosen is quiet and pretty, and I look forward to spending some time with her each day, so that we may soon know each other. At this moment, perhaps, she is a little afraid of me, but you will convince her that there is no need for fear. On the contrary, I could not love any woman more than I would love your wife, Marcus.”

His expression remained cool and soothing. “I know that. And now compose yourself. I’ll call Katarina.”

“Not for a moment.” She pointed a small yellow stick of a finger at Sally’s hand. “You have not exchanged rings? How is that?”

“We’ll get round to it,” Marcus said patiently. “When you awoke this morning you didn’t even know I was on my way, yet here you are, wanting everything to happen at once. If you’re worn out tomorrow I’ll have Carlos on my neck.”

“But the ring is important to a woman, if not to you. Soon you must choose which of the family rings you will use for the exchange, but now ... give me my jewel-box, Marcus.”

“I’ll do no such thing. You’ve had enough excitement.”

“I—am—not—excited,” she said, spacing the words for emphasis. “I will not have the child under this roof one night before presenting her with a token of our family affection. Give me the box.”

“Oh, but please,” said Sally, distressed. “I’d much rather not...”

“Katarina!” cried the old lady sharply.

The woman appeared magically at the inner doorway. “
Senora
?”

“My jewel-box, Katarina.” The inlaid mahogany casket was swiftly placed on the sheet between her hands, and as Dona Inez opened it she gazed, narrow-eyed, at Marcus. “Do not look so disdainful of these things, my son. This little sapphire is a gift from me to your
novia,
but I wish her to wear it on the correct finger until we have chosen the betrothal ring. You yourself will put it there.”

Marcus’ smile was an aloof mask. “Very well—later. Give it to me.”

The old
senora
placed the ring in his palm. “Do it soon—tonight. I confess I am a little weary, but before you go I wish to give you both my blessing. Please take your little Sally’s hand across my bed.”

He stood, tall and self-possessed, and looked across at Sally, stretched his hand to her. Tautly she responded, felt the firm grip on her fingers before the cool, bony hands of the old
senora
were clasped about the two that were locked together. Within a minute it was over and Sally had regained possession of her hand.

“Goodnight, my dear,” Dona Inez was saying, a little weakly. “You have made me so happy ... so very happy. We will talk ... tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,
senora
,” Sally whispered.

Marcus bent and touched his lips to the lined forehead. “It’s good to be back with you,” he said quietly. “Sleep well.”

The bright old eyes in the weary face looked at him serenely. “
Querido mio
,” she said. “I knew that even in this matter which is close to your heart I could depend on you. Goodnight.”

Sally walked out the way she had come. She knew Marcus had reached her side, but she couldn’t look at him.

As she descended the steps her knees bent stiffly, but she was only three steps from the
patio
when she stumbled. She flung out a hand to grab at the narrow wrought-iron balustrade, caught it but hooked on to a swaying trailer of rose stem at the same time as Marcus steadied her at the other side. Pain shot through the palm of her hand and involuntarily she let out a small cry.

“Hurt yourself?” he asked quickly.

“It’s nothing—just a scratch. There’s plenty of light—I should have watched the steps.”

As they reached the patio he whipped a handkerchief from his pocket, took her hand and dabbed at the splash of blood. “Didn’t grab a thorn, did you? Sure of that?”

Tremulously she said, “Yes, I’m sure. Please let go of my hand, Marcus.”

But his hold tightened. “Don’t take fright, there’s a good girl. You did very well up there. The
senora
will sleep soundly tonight.”

“I’m glad.”

“Don’t get wound up about it, please. If I haven’t been absolutely frank with you it’s because I felt we should keep this thing as impersonal as possible. Some time you may have to see Dona Inez alone, and I think there are one or two things I’d better tell you, before that happens.” She stood, small and straight and a little pale in the muted light from the windows, saying nothing. So he tugged gently at the wrist he held and added, “You’re helping me in something that I feel is very necessary just now, and worth while. We can depend on Carlos Suarez, as my grandmother’s doctor, to slow down her natural impulses. You’ll have to take the talk of celebrations and a wedding in your stride. If you were in love with me—I mean if you had a crush as a girl sometimes does on a man who’s older—it would make things awkward and uncomfortable for us both. But you haven’t, thank heaven; you even feel a little enmity for me, though I can’t think why. Still, perhaps it’s as well.” He paused and looked at her speculatively. “Anything in particular you’d like to know about things here, and me?’

She shook her head. “I’d rather not know anything at all.”

A smile made his voice slightly mocking. “That’s not true. I saw the little daggers come into your eyes when Dona Inez thanked you for not marrying me in England. That’s what you hate most about this situation, isn’t it? The fact that you’re being mistaken for someone else?” He shrugged and tacked on laconically, “You’d better hear about it.”

“I’ve naturally gathered that you were engaged to someone in England,” she said offhandedly. “Perhaps I hadn’t better be told any more than that.”

“It’s important that you realize where you stand,” he said. “The engagement existed, but it wasn’t official, in any sense. She’s an actress—not a particularly good one, but quite lovely and sparkling. She had a small part in a West End play, and it was understood between us that I’d be there when the play came off and would arrange to bring her here. When I got to London she told me the play was going to America and she had the chance to go with it. So that was that.”

“She broke it off, as casually as that?”

His shoulders lifted in a half foreign gesture. “I dare say she thought she could have the glamor and me too. She sailed within three days. I went to stay with friends in Yorkshire, but there was nothing to keep me in England, so I came home.” He closed her fingers over the handkerchief wadded in her palm. “I made my first questionable decision when I chose the cruise instead of returning as usual by air. However, you and I met and McCartney spread the glad news ... and here we are, temporary fiancés.”

She lowered her head. “You seem oddly unmoved by what happened to you in England. Yet it must have been a blow.”

“It didn’t happen catastrophically.” He sounded cynical as he went on, “Even as we parted Nadine told me she was desperately in love with me. She also said that if I loved her I’d let her have the wonderful experience of acting in America before we married.”

“That could be true.”

“Not for me,” in hard tones. “The woman I marry will consider me first, right from the start. Still, I’m grateful to Nadine Carmody. She’s completely put me off English women.” He smiled, quite charmingly. “That doesn’t include you and your mother, Sally Sheppard. I may marry a Spaniard, but I’m pretty sure no Spanish woman would do for me what you yourself are doing for me now.”

“You saved us from a nasty predicament in Barcelona,” she said coolly, “and you’ve promised to help us become established here. It’s an exchange of favors, that’s all.” She hesitated. “I’m horribly afraid that when your grandmother hears the truth she’ll have a relapse.”

“We’ll guard against that. When she’s a little stronger you’ll have to seem restive, as though living here in the house doesn’t suit you. I’ll find you a villa that you can share with your mother. That way, you can gradually break off seeing Dona Inez, and when she’s more or less prepared for it, I’ll tell her you feel you’re not sufficiently in love to marry.”

“She’ll ... hate me.”

“It’s possible, but there’s already been groundwork in that direction.” With a shrug and a very slight movement away from her he said, “My father was her son, and much more Spanish than I am. He married an English woman who could never properly settle here. They separated when I was very young and she never came back. So you see,” with a sardonic smile, “Dona Inez will only be grateful that you found out before marriage, instead of after as my mother did.”

Sally was pensive. “It doesn’t seem quite fair that she should think badly of all English women, does it? I suppose she’s always wanted you to marry a Spanish girl?”

“She pegged away at it for a few years. Spanish women are very beautiful and when they’re young they’re spirited, but I always felt they were too immersed in their homes, too docile in marriage, to make exciting wives. But with time, one’s ideas tend to change.”

“You mean you no longer want an exciting wife?”

His eyes narrowed in the way his grandmother’s did, and he spoke a little crisply. “We seem to have got away from the point, don’t we? I merely wanted you to know that no one here has ever been aware of the name and profession of the woman I was engaged to. All that side of the business is between you and me and no one else. For all practical purposes here, you’re she.”