The House of Adriano (18 page)

“Yes, I think it is,” Aileen answered cautiously.

“Many times I have said that I must call, so that we may become better acquainted, but always my mother tells me there is some previous engagement that cannot be escaped. It is so restricting sometimes, this constant insistence on a chaperone. It is then that I envy the girls of your country who are allowed to act just as they please.”

It was all perfectly pleasant and smiling, but somehow she managed to make it sound fairly reprehensible.

“Yes, it must be frustrating for you sometimes,” Aileen agreed evenly. “But we aren’t allowed to do exactly as we please back home, you know. Even if we don’t have chaperones, we are expected to conform to certain conventions - and, in any event, one’s own self-respect would stop any ideas of living outside them.”

“But of course.” Alesandra opened her eyes wide at that, innocently, as if she had never implied anything else, certainly not that the other girl, since she was allowed to go out unchaperoned, lived an extremely dubious sort of life. A sharp retort hovered on Aileen’s tongue - that perhaps they did not need chaperones because it was accepted that there was no need for it - but she would not allow herself to sink to Alesandra’s level of baiting.

“You must find it very different here,” Alesandra went on, before she could make any reply. “And the little boy too.”

“It is very different, of course,” Aileen agreed in the same even tone. “But I don’t think Peter is finding it quite so strange now.”

“That does not mean that you will be returning to Australia? Not so soon, one hopes. There is much here that you have not yet seen, I am sure.”

She sounded quite concerned that Aileen might be leaving soon, yet once again the other girl was conscious of that hidden insincerity. The sooner Aileen Lawrence departed for Australia the better it would suit Senorita Alesandra Pereira.

“No, I hadn’t thought of returning just yet, although I shall have to work out my future plans fairly soon.”

She had always known, of course, that it was a far from permanent arrangement, yet the very thought of leaving sent a cold chill right through her.

“Yes, it is always best to have one’s future plans settled well in advance,” Alesandra agreed. “You would not want to be here when Duarte married - or at least I myself feel that I would not want to be an uncertain member of a household under those circumstances. It is always disturbing when a new mistress takes over a household. Many changes are made.”

Aileen felt herself tense. If Alesandra had quite openly told her that she would not be wanted at Marindos when there was a new mistress there, the words could not have had a plainer meaning, yet she still had that sweetly pleasant and friendly smile on her lovely face.

“Are you telling me that I should make my future plans fairly soon because I shall be asked to leave when Duarte marries?” she said bluntly, unable to keep the words from leaving her tongue. Whether she would be asked to leave or not, she felt that she could not in any case have continued to be a member of a household where Alesandra would be mistress, not that there had ever been any question of permanency in the arrangement. Her status was so undefined, a sort of companion to Peter until he settled in. In a way her life was just as undefined and uncertain.

“But of course not, Senorita Lawrence,” Alesandra said with a quick and deprecatory movement of her hands. “I am only trying to give you some friendly advice. You are very attractive. Perhaps the woman who Duarte marries would not like to have such a one, who was not really a member of the family, living in the same household.” She shrugged. “Perhaps I am wrong. One never knows how these things work out, but some brides can be very odd.”

“Shall we be quite open about the matter?” Aileen asked tersely. “As you will no doubt be Duarte’s wife, I take it that you are informing me that you would find it unnecessary for me to stay once Peter is quite settled.”

Once again she could not help the words coming out. Perhaps she should have tried to counter Alesandra’s remarks more subtly, but she could not restrain herself.

“But of course not.” Alesandra opened her dark eyes wide again, as if the very thought had not occurred to her. “It is not yet known whom Duarte will marry.”

“But I think it’s more or less taken for granted that it will be you, isn’t it?” Aileen countered.

“One can only hope,” Alesandra said wistfully. “But nothing is certain.”

It would be certain if Senorita Alesandra Pereira had her way, Aileen thought grimly. She did not delude herself that Alesandra was frightened of her in any personal way, a way that concerned Duarte.
Dona
Teresa’s remarks about not liking Alesandra had given her a clue to what she was sure was the real reason. Even though Alesandra would be the new mistress of Marindos, it was a well-known fact that the previous feminine head of the family - such as Dona Teresa was at present - usually made her presence felt. From all accounts Dona Luana had apparently gone on ruling the household whatever new brides were introduced into it. Alesandra probably knew that Dona Teresa would not be such a martinet as the other woman had been, but she seemed to be making sure that there would be no other young woman in the house, particularly one whom Dona Teresa seemed to favour. Had she been some sort of permanent governess or companion, Aileen thought it could have made the situation extremely awkward, but as it had only been temporary right from the beginning, it did not matter so much - in spite of the odd feelings that came to her when she thought of leaving.

“I don’t think Duarte’s future wife need have anything to worry about there,” she said in an even, controlled tone. “I don’t like to be unsettled myself. My real home and my career are both in Australia.”

“You must not misunderstand me, please,” Alesandra said quickly - Aileen was sure she had not misunderstood her in any case. “We were talking of somebody unknown to both of us, whose reactions perhaps cannot be predicted.” She achieved another wistful little smile. “If I should become Duarte’s wife, then everything would be all right. Myself, I like you. I would want you to stay with us for as long as you wished.”

“Thank you,
senorita
,”
Aileen replied. “May I say that I reciprocate your feelings,” and Alesandra could take that whichever way she chose.

“Good. I had felt sure that we would be friends,” Alesandra said, with every appearance of delight, so much so that Aileen wondered for one moment whether she might have misjudged the girl, but a glimpse of something wary and hard in the dark eyes convinced her that she had made no mistake. Alesandra was warning her that she would not be wanted at Marindos when its new mistress took over, and Aileen Lawrence had better reconcile herself to that fact and make her plans accordingly.

They went outside with every sign of friendliness. Aileen felt a thorough hypocrite for carrying on such a pretence, but there seemed nothing else to do when Alesandra was determined to hide her own antagonism and dislike under the same sort of pretence. In any case, it would be an impossible world if one did not make some attempt to hide one’s feelings, she decided.

A little later the guests went out on to a terraced patio, with a sunken courtyard in the centre of it. On the terrace that surrounded it on all four sides were little tables and chairs, except for the fourth side, which seemed to have been cleared for some purpose - and that purpose was soon made clear. The fourth section of the terrace was swiftly filled up by a colourful band of people. They sat on the terrace steps, or leaned against the balustrade. A couple of chairs that had been left there were scorned. Three of the men, holding guitars, were fairly soberly dressed, but there were six women in long, flowing flamenco dresses, long ear-rings, and with flowers in the black hair.

“Gipsy dancers,” Dona Teresa whispered, leaning slightly nearer to Aileen.

“I thought they might be,” Aileen whispered back.

All the guests had sorted themselves out along the three sides of the terrace, Aileen finding herself with Dona Teresa on one side of her and Duarte on the other side. Nearby, on the other side of Duarte, Alesandra sat with her parents, an exquisite little fan in her hand which she used every now and again with delicate old-world movements. One or two of the other women carried fans and Aileen was becoming aware how expertly handled they could be, how tantalising in the hand of a young and beautiful woman. Oh, no doubt about it, Alesandra knew how to attract men, especially a man of Duarte’s type. She had been bred for it and what had not been taught her came naturally. That latter was perhaps even more dangerous.

Without any warning, the performance started, as if a singer had decided just at that moment that she felt like singing. At first it seemed harsh and discordant to Aileen, but she quickly became aware of something fascinating, some suggestion of wild, restrained passion, and, as the singer work
e
d up and up to a climax, the feeling became more and more pronounced. The guitarist seemed to be gazing almost hypnotised at the singer, the sinuous fingers on the strings anticipating every nuance of emotion in the singer’s voice, until at last memory of all other
music seemed to become lifeless and pale and faded.

A girl started to dance ... taunting, tantalising. A young men leapt up from the steps, accepting the challenge. The sheer emotional impact of the scene was all the more pronounced somehow because of its suggestion of restraint. It was like a volcano erupting, yet somehow held at bay. All three guitars were being played now, madly, impassionedly, fingers snapped and castanets and tambourines added to the living emotionalism of it.

Aileen felt her heart thudding uncontrollably and the wild flamenco music sent odd shivering thrills through her. She was so caught up in the tempest of emotion, so unaware of anything else that she did not know Duarte was watching her rather than the dancers.

“It seems that at last something touches that cold heart of yours,” his voice remarked at her side.

Aileen started and made a quick attempt to control her rioting emotions. His voice had been soft, almost a whisper, but it still had that trace of mocking amusement she always associated with him.

“It is an interesting performance,” she replied almost primly, and heard him laugh with that same mocking softness.

“Very interesting,” he agreed. “I think our gypsy music discloses that you are not quite so emotionally invulnerable as you would have us believe.”

Emotionally invulnerable! He thought her emotionally invulnerable when every nerve in her body seemed to be singing as if they were those madly impassioned guitar strings, every sense was overwhelmingly alive - and not so much because of the music, but because of the nearness of one man.

The dance finished in a wild flurry of movement, but the guitars and castanets still seemed to throb in her blood. Her heart was beating unevenly and too quickly. It was the sultry atmosphere, she told herself breathlessly. That was what was making her so overwhelmingly conscious of the man at her side. That was why she suddenly longed for him to touch her, to feel his fingers gripping her arms, to...

She abruptly realised where her thoughts were leading and, aghast, tried to control them.

It surely could not really have happened! Not to her - and for such a man. Not Duarte Adriano, whom she had once been so sure she disliked more than anyone she had ever met before.

In a way, though, it explained so many things. The first instinctive antagonism on meeting him. Had it been her femininity rebelling against the secret knowledge that he was a man who would come to mean too much to her? If it had not been for Peter she might perhaps have realised it sooner, but her dislike of him because he was going to take Peter away from her might perhaps have obscured the real reason. Who should she have felt antagonism before she had even known his name? The moment those dark eyes had met and held hers?

All the strange feeling that had been bothering her lately
were explained too. It was so easy to see what had been causing them. He must never find out, though, not when he was going to marry Alesandra.

No wonder they said love was blind. The little god must shut his eyes and shoot his arrows at random, not caring where they landed.

In that moment she did not know whether to be glad or sorry that she had come to Spain. That old saying about better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all was all very well, but that did not stop the lost part of it hurting, and she realised instinctively that this was going to hurt very much. How could it be otherwise when she knew, when everyone knew and took it for granted, that he was going to marry Alesandra?

CHAPTER IX

The
morning following the engagement party was another of those lazy ones. Aileen, however, was up fairly early as usual rousing Peter out of bed and getting him ready for his lessons. After her own Spanish lesson was finished, she left Peter with his head down and went to find Dona Teresa. This time the old lady was sitting in a wicker lounge chair on a small terrace that led down into the inner patio.

She looked up with a smile as Aileen came through the open glass doors that backed the terrace.

“Ah, such is youth - dancing and parties and yet so fresh in the morning!”

Aileen laughed. “I haven’t really any excuse for not being fresh. I have so little to do
... and I spent all yesterday afternoon resting ready for the party.” She shook her head, her smile dying into a little frown. “I do wish there was more I could do.”

“We have spoken of this before,”
Dona
Teresa said firmly. “You do quite enough. And now, what did you think of our engaged couple?” she asked, in change of subject.

“They seem very happy.”

Dona Teresa’s eyes twinkled. “That surprises you?”

“Well ... not exactly.” She paused a little awkwardly. “I hadn’t expected them to be quite so happy, though.”

“Because it was an arranged marriage?”

“Well... yes, I suppose so.”

Dona Teresa shrugged. “Two young people
...
both attractive. Why should they not find happiness in each other?”

In spite of her years in Ireland, it seemed she still held many predominantly latin ideas.

"Your nephew said more or less the same thing,” Aileen admitted slowly.

The dark eyes twinkled again. "Ah ... I suspected he was again teasing you last night.”

Aileen considered privately that teasing was not exactly the r
ight
word to apply to it.

“Sometimes I think it gives him amusement to tilt at this independence of yours,” Dona Teresa continued, and Aileen agreed with her wholeheartedly. “But I do not altogether believe this talk of a career being everything,” she went on, the twinkle even more pronounced. “I think you would like marriage as well as any other woman.” She chuckled unrepentantly. “You need not hesitate to admit it. I would not pass the information on to Duarte.”

“Yes, I would like to get married,” Aileen admitted at last. She could never admit the name of the man she yearned to marry, though - the one man she could not possibly marry.

“Then why this pretence of being against marriage?” Dona Teresa asked, appearing a little puzzled.

Once again Aileen found herself explaining how the fallacy had come about. She did not think Dona Teresa would mind and would probably even see the funny side, which she did immediately, her face crinkling up into laughter. Unfortunately neither of them heard Duarte come through the open glass doors.

“So? Now it is that we learn the truth.” His voice was slightly teasing, without a trace of anything mocking in it. “I had started to suspect that it might perhaps have been like that.”

Aileen could not stop the flush rising to her cheeks. “I didn’t hear you come out,” she said somewhat confusedly.

“Your pardon,” he said with a slight bow. “It is said that eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves, but sometimes they hear things that are also interesting.” Something just slightly jibing did hover around his mouth momentarily. “It is a relief to realise that even one who insists so emphatically on the importance of a career can still concede that marriage could be ultimately bearable.”

“I still think that a career could make you far more happy than an unsuccessful marriage,” Aileen said a little defensively. “At least you have to agree there.”

“Perhaps.” But his voice was quite enigmatic.

“As for myself...” Now that her complete career-minded-ness had been exploded she intended to get things perfectly clear. “Perhaps I will marry ... perhaps I won’t.” She knew
quite well that she would not, but that was something she could not admit, or she might have to give a reason for it - and that reason was one that she could not disclose, certainly not to Duarte himself. “If it doesn’t come my way, then I can still have my career,” she went on. “I don’t believe in marrying just for the sake of it. I can suppo
rt
myself..
.”

“And be quite independent of any man,” he finished for her, the faintly mocking amusement coming into his voice. “What then would you consider to be the most important requisite for marriage?”

“Love,” she said quite simply.

Those dark eyebrows went up. “You surprise me. I thought that was considered to be a most overstated emotion - or is that another of the things that was ... misunderstood?” He paused, but before she could answer, he added almost musingly, “And what do you know of love, I wonder, my little one?”

“I’ve ... heard plenty about it,” she answered a little disjointedly. “I’ll know if it ever arrives, I suppose.”

Empty words. She knew about love now, but she knew more about its pain than any sweetness it possessed.

“And you would welcome it - or otherwise?”

“Both, I suppose.” That was true, at least. She did not regret falling in love in one way, even though she knew it was going to cause her even more pain than it had already. “It’s so unsettling
... at least that’s what I’ve been told.”

Was she successfully keeping up her pretence of being a whole-hearted career girl who was quite content with her lot if and until love came into her life? She hoped she was. At least that left her with the final defence of pride.

“And so very destructive to that sense of independence.” Again there was a thread of amusement in his voice, but the mockery was absent from it.

“I think the type of man I would love would respect my sense of independence.”

“So you think that one may love to order?”

“Well
... not exactly. But if somebody was really
... incompatible ... wouldn’t it just be physical attraction and not love?”

She felt that she was talking a lot of nonsense, because she knew quite well that one could fall in love with somebody who was completely incompatible, whether or not - and it was certainly
not
in her case - there could ever be marriage between, the two people concerned. However, much as it might appear nonsense in the light of her love for Duarte, at least it fitted the pretence of being heartwhole that she was concentrating on building up.

“Not always,” he disagreed. “Incompatibles have been known to fall in love.”

“Then in that case it would be wiser to put it out of your life rather than make what is likely to be an unhappy marriage.”

“
Gran
cie
lo!
It is easy to see that you know nothing of love.”

Somehow she managed to control an involuntary wince at that, and Dona Teresa, who up until then had been silent, amusedly listening to the interchange, laughed softly.

“Then that is something we must change.” She looked pensive. “Perhaps Senor Renfrew ... he is becoming most attentive.”

Aileen coloured. “Bart’s only a friend,” she said hastily.

“Then why that so very vivid blush?” Duarte asked, the mocking inflection in his voice most pronounced. “Perhaps we have mistaken the matter even more. Maybe it is Senor Renfrew who has changed your ideas about marriage.”

“Of course not. It’s just that ... well, anybody is likely to blush when her name is coupled with a man’s like that.”

“Then if not Senor Renfrew, maybe someone else,” Dona Teresa said thoughtfully. “Can you suggest someone, perhaps?” she appealed to Duarte with her impish smile. “I do not think that we should allow this so very pretty child to escape the bonds of matrimony.”

Duarte, for some reason best known to himself, seemed to have become his most mocking at that moment.

“You must give me time to think,” he said. “But do you imagine that she could accept our Spanish marriage? That sense of independence ...” He shook his dark head almost derisively. “No, I fear it would be too much for it.”

“Perhaps.” Aileen attempted to shrug casually. “From choice I would rather a marriage where I was a companion to
my husband, where we could talk seriously to each other, as well as ... as ..
.”

“As well as make love?” he finished for her as she paused, that hint of derisive amusement still in his voice.

“Yes.” Her answer this time was a little defiant. “I think I would want something more than just to be treated as some kind of living doll, to be petted and then put back in its box.”

Empty words again. She knew she would have accepted anything if it brought her the man she loved - yet at the same time she could not quite forget Bart’s remarks about the little Italian girl who had married a man with backward ideas and then found her life unhappy even while she had the man she loved.

It seemed that Duarte had those same sort of ideas, the traditional latin idea that a woman was only made to make love to, that marriage was her only goal in life. Even if some completely impossible miracle had happened and he had loved her, could they ever have found real happiness together? Would they have finished up like the Italian girl and her husband? In any case, it was something that did not need to be considered, because such a problem would never arise. At any time now Duarte would announce his engagement to Alesandra.

She realised at that moment that he was watching her rather closely, but before he could say anything which she would have to counter with wary caution - if one of those uncomfortable remarks of his was on the thin, firm lips - Dona Teresa shrugged and remarked:

“I know what you mean, my child. I think that was why I never remarried, apart from that fact that I still loved my husband. My years in Ireland had bred in me a certain independence. I recognised many things wrong with the traditional Spanish marriage - from the viewpoint of a woman of new independence.”

“It seems that I find rebellion in my own family,” Duarte remarked with a species of light raillery.

“You are a man and would naturally not agree,” Dona Teresa retorted.

He smiled and bowed slightly. “Naturally.” He glanced at Aileen and a faint trace of derision, felt rather than seen, came
back to his expression. “It seems that it will have to be the American after all.”

“Or the handsome life-saver in Australia,” Dona Teresa chuckled. “Is he as they are seen sometimes on the films, my child?” she asked, turning her mischievous glance on Aileen.

In spite of herself Aileen felt hot colour rise to her face, because Paul was undoubtedly just that type of person, tall, bronzed and incredibly fit, as well as good-looking.

Dona Teresa laughed again. “Ah, so he is. No wonder we cannot distract your attention. There you will no doubt find the kind of marriage you wish - love
and
independence. Is that not so?”

“You forget - I have it on good authority, from the little Peter, that many times this - Paul, is it not?” The smooth, urbane voice with its attractive accent paused to query the name, then continued in the same tone, “This Paul has many times asked her to marry him and has been refused. It seems that the career still takes first place.”

“Nonsense,” Dona Teresa retorted. “Perhaps she only needed time to make up her mind. Now we shall see.” She caught Aileen’s expression and suddenly laughed. “It surprises you that we discuss you so openly... but you must take it as a compliment. We wish to see you attain happiness. Is that not so?” with an upward glance at Duarte.

The man’s dark face seemed to set in some odd manner. “Of course,” he agreed. Then he glanced at the watch strapped to one narrow, strong wrist. “And now you must excuse me. There are matters of business I have to attend to.”

Dona Teresa chuckled again. “And perhaps while you are gone I shall find out whom she favours most as a husband - Senor Renfrew or this handsome life-saver who is called Paul.”

“It would be interesting to know,” Duarte agreed, and with a little bow, a flicker of that faintly derisive smile in Aileen’s direction, he turned and left them.

Aileen did not see him again for the rest of the day, but in the morning, just after she had left the schoolroom, she met him in one of the corridors as she went downstairs, intending to go out
and sit in the shade of one of the trees in the patio.

He looked so incredibly attractive, so well groomed, as he always did, that her heart turned over in helpless longing, but somehow she hid what the sight of him did to her.

“
Buenos dias
,”
he greeted her. “And how do the Spanish lessons proceed?”

“Slowly ...
but I’m told I’m steadily improving.”

He nodded, turning to walk at her side, commenting lightly on innocuous matters, but as they entered one of the rooms that led on to the inner patio, he paused. Aileen stopped also, giving him a slightly enquiring glance.

“You have not yet been out to the Escorial Palace?”

“No.” She gave him a quick glance, wondering what was coming. “I’m told it’s well worth seeing though.”

A faint glimmer of a smile showed in his eyes. “It is ... but perhaps we Spaniards are prejudiced. If you wish I will drive you out there.”

For a moment she wondered if she had heard right and, since she did not reply immediately, he apparently took it to mean that she was reluctant to go there in his company. The dark face seemed to close up and lose all expression.