The Mountains of Spring (8 page)

Two women had entered the room, and from the ma
nn
er in which he was bowing over their hands it was
fair
ly
obvious that they were the guests awaited by Senor Rivel. They were both, as she had expected, clearly of Latin-American extraction, and they were both expensively dressed. But the elder of the two—a woman of about forty—was also plump and decidedly homely. And the younger, who seemed to be her daughter, was in a wheelchair.

The older woman was beaming expansively and talking rapidly in Spanish, and Diego was smiling too. All at once he had relaxed, and it struck Caroline forcibly that whenever he looked at the girl in the wheelchair his whole face underwent a kind of transformation. This, undoubtedly, was the
‘
particular friend
’
he had mentioned; the woman who, if she was not yet actually engaged to him, very probably soon would be.

Her chair had been wheeled into the room by one of the hotel
’
s porters, but at the door this duty was taken over by Diego, and it was he who, after the three had talked for a minute or two, pushed her over to the co
r
ner where Caroline had rather awkwardly got to her feet. As they drew nearer, she got the impression that he said something quietly, and in Spanish, which related to herself, and to her annoyance by the time the little group reached her she felt herself colouring brilliantly.

With Latin formality, he made the necessary introductions, and two pairs of dark eyes flickered over Caroline with varying degrees of interest. The older woman studied her rather intently, and with a good deal of undisguised curiosity, but the younger merely glanced at her briefly before looking up again at the man beside her.

‘
The Senora Dominguez,
’
said Diego,
‘
has a great fondness for England. She will be most interested to talk to you, Miss Ashley.
’

Caroline murmured something suitable, and the Senora, who evidently understood English, gave her a vague smile. They sat down next to one another, and embarked on a stilted conversation which lasted until it was time for them to make their way to the dining-room, while Diego devoted himself more or less exclusively to the Senorita Dominguez and in fact hovered about her with so much solicitude that Caroline, who wouldn
’
t have believed him capable of it, was staggered. As for the Senorita herself, she appeared to consider that the sun shone out of her host
’
s eyes, and she quite plainly had very little time for anybody else.

She was a slim, fragile-looking girl of about twenty, with a translucently pale skin, and great, beautiful dark eyes. If it had not been for the look of fretfulness that lay across her small, regular features like an unhappy mask she might, Caroline decided, have been extremely attractive. But as it was, the fretfulness never really seemed to lift, even on the occasions when something Diego said brought a sudden eager smile to her lips, and her lovely pansy-like eyes had something almost frighteningly lack-lustre about them at times. Caroline wondered
why she was confined to a wheelchair, for no rug covered her knees, and to all appearances she was perfectly normal, but she supposed some sort of spinal weakness was the problem, and she felt an uprush of genuine sympathy, for she had a feeling that Isabel Dominguez had suffered a good deal.

By the time they finally moved into the dining
room for lunch all the blinds had been raised and the shutters thrown back, and the room, which was half
-
lined with huge picture windows, was bathed in clear golden sunlight. Caroline was a little relieved, for the mossy green twilight of the cocktail lounge had been getting on her nerves, and at least it was a change to be dazzled. The conversation of the Senora Dominguez had also been getting on her nerves—just a little—for it centred largely around the Mexican woman
’
s recollections of a visit which she had paid to England more than twenty years earlier, and as the Senora
’
s understanding of spoken English was decidedly faulty awkward silences had begun to fall.

Waiters gathered around them in deferential droves as they took their places around the flower-decked table which had been reserved for them, and several came forward to offer Diego assistance as he tenderly wheeled the Senorita Dominguez into her appointed position between her mother and Caroline, but he seemed anxious to attend to her comfort alone and unaided, and when, as she was finally settled, she smiled up at him gratefully it occurred to Caroline that he looked quite absurdly gratified.

As lunch began, he turned politely to talk to the Senora Dominguez, and after a minute or two, with a suggestion of reluctance Isabel recollected her
social duty and addressed herself to Caroline.

‘
You have not been in Mexico very long, Miss Ashley?
’

‘
No, only two days.
’

‘
Do you like it? Do you think it is beautiful?
’

The question was purely formal, but Caroline answered warmly and immediately.
‘
Yes ... I think it
’
s incredibly beautiful. I haven
’
t seen a great deal of it, but I
’
m sure it
’
s a wonderful country.
’
She paused, and then added:
‘
I think the distant mountain ranges are the loveliest thing I
’
ve ever seen.
’

Isabel looked bored, and allowed her slim, pale fingers to toy with the stem of her wine glass.
‘
I live in Mexico City,
’
she said slowly.
‘
Near the Bosque de Chapultepec
...
the great park, you know? All my windows look across to the
cordillera.
They are very dull, those mountains. I hate them, sometimes.
’

She seemed to fall into a kind of reverie, staring out through the huge window in front of them, and Caroline felt vaguely embarrassed.
‘
I don
’
t suppose,
’
she ventured,
‘
we ever really appreciate the things that are very familiar to us. I live in London, but I can
’
t remember the time when I last looked at the Thames properly. It
’
s silly, but it happens
...
doesn
’
t it?
’

Senorita Dominguez dragged herself back into reality with an obvious effort, and glanced at Caroline with a faint, glimmering smile.
‘
Yes, you are right. I live in Mexico, but I don
’
t see it. Places you know are boring.
’

Apparently Di
e
go had been following their conversation, for he looked round with a sudden smile.

‘
You don
’
t find the Casa de la Luz boring, Isa? You
’
ve never said so.
’

Instantly her remarkable eyes, dark as sloes, came alive with enthusiasm.
‘
The Casa de la Luz is like a house in a fairy-tale,
’
she told him.
‘
No one could be bored there.
’

‘
I am glad you think so,
chiquita mia
.’
Across the table, his eyes smiled dazzlingly into hers.
‘
For a moment I was worried. I should not like to think that you have been bored under my roof!
’

They lingered a long time over lunch, and by the time they finally left their
corner
of the sunlit dining
room it was nearly three o
’
clock. Caroline, who for the better part of the time had been politely ignored, was glad of the opportunity to stand up and stretch her legs. The resentment which she felt in connection with her host, and which had been smouldering throughout the meal, was beginning to flare up again.

Not once, in the course of lunch, had Diego mentioned her brother
’
s name. Not once—in her hearing, at any rate—had he made any reference to the reason for her presence in Mexico. He had made hardly any attempts to include her in the general conversation, and she could only wonder, now, why on earth he
had
brought her out to lunch. He was not, she was fairly certain, suffering from any feelings of remorse where she or her brother were concerned, and as far as she could see there was no rational reason why he should wish her to make the acquaintance of his
fiancée
. She could only suppose that he had hoped the meeting would embarrass and humiliate her. Although if that were the case he would surely, in the course of conversation, have made a little more of her relationship to one of his
ranch hands.

They all walked out together into the oven-like atmosphere of the car-park, and at the earliest possible opportunity Caroline spoke to Diego.

‘
May I go back to my hotel now?
’
She was conscious of the fact that she sounded stiff and thoroughly resentful, and she didn
’
t care in the least.

With an air of mild surprise, he turned and looked down at her. His lean, strong left hand was guiding the progress of Isabel Dominguez
’
wheelchair; his right had just been engaged in pointing out for the benefit of the invalid some salient feature of the view spread in front of them.

‘
You are so anxious to be quite alone?
’
he enquired.

She was a little breathless from hurrying to catch up with him, and her words came out in a torrent, falling over one another.
‘
I shan
’
t be alone at the hotel. Now that Peter knows I
’
m here he might go along there when he comes back to-night, and I wouldn
’
t want to miss him. You don
’
t need to drive me—I
’
ll go back inside and ring for a taxi. Thank you very much for the lunch, but—
’

He stood still, and Senorita Dominguez, her progress temporarily halted, looked enquiringly over her shoulder.

‘
What is the matter,
amado
?’

‘
Merely a small matter that has to be sorted out.
’
He looked at Caroline.
‘
You believe that your brother will be returning from Mexico City to-night?
’

‘
Well, won
’
t he?
’

‘
He will not. My manager told me this morning that he had instructions to complete a certain transaction. The horse he was taking to the races has been sold, and he was to arrange the final formalities with the buyer. It will necessitate his remaining in Mexico City for the night.
’

‘
But ... but this is ridiculous!
’
Looking more bewildered than angry, she passed a hand across her forehead.
‘
Why didn
’
t you tell me before?
’

He looked very faintly apologetic.
‘
It
...
hardly seemed necessary,
senorita.
I did not imagine that you would still expect to see your brother today.
’

‘
Well, I—I did!
’
She bit her lip, and a tremendous feeling of superstitious uneasiness welled over her. It was almost as if she wasn
’
t meant to see Peter again. What if something happened to him in Mexico City? She bit her lip again, very hard, and realized that both the Mexican women were watching her with polite curiosity. Feeling as if she wanted to scream, she said:
‘
I
’
d still like to go back to my hotel, if you don
’
t mind.
’

Although she didn
’
t see it, for she wasn
’
t looking at him, Diego Rivel smiled at her, and it was rather an attractive smile.

‘
I refuse to say that I don
’
t mind,
senorita,
but if you wish it
—if
you wish it—I will of course drive you back to the Vista de Oro at once. I am sure the Senora and Senorita Dominguez will forgive me.
’
He glanced briefly down at Isabel.
‘
But on the other hand, if you don
’
t insist upon returning to your isolation, perhaps something could be arranged.
’
Another glance at the Mexican girl.
‘
I had planned that we should now drive into the mountains, and have dinner at some small
posada,
but we could just as easily drive to Mexico City, meet your brother, and have dinner there.
’
He placed a hand on the shoulder of the girl in the wheelchair.
‘
Would you
mind, Isabelita?
’

Senorita Dominguez shrugged.
‘
Not I. We would not have so far to travel home, Mother and I, and in this heat I am exhausted already.
’

Her mother, on being appealed to, expressed considerable enthusiasm for the plan, and only Caroline was silent. She knew how much happier she would feel if only it were possible for her to see Peter tonight, but she hated the idea of being under any sort of obligation to his employer. Why did he suddenly have to torment her by being kind? At last she looked up at him uncertainly.

‘
I can
’
t let you change your plans
...
’

‘
Nevertheless, Miss Ashley, I have already changed them. Clearly, the idea of going straight back to Mexico City appeals to everyone. We
shall
go, even if it is necessary for me to return you to your hotel first.
’

‘
In that case
...
it
’
s very kind of you, and I would like to go.
’

‘
Excellent.
’

They came to the cars—his own sleek white one, now smothered in dust, and the ponderous American limousine which was the property of the two women. Caroline discovered that she and Senora Dominguez were to travel in the latter vehicle—which was driven by a uniformed chauffeur—while Isabel, who had begun to look rather more fretful than usual, was to occupy the passenger seat of the sports car. The business of transferring her from her wheelchair to the car was quite an operation in itself, but Diego managed it effortlessly, declining all offers of assistance from the chauffeur, and by the time she had been deposited with the utmost care on the scarlet
leather seat she was looking considerably less ruffled, Caroline followed the oldest lady present into the back of the limousine, and with the minimum of noise and manoeuvring the two cars followed one another out on to the dusty brown roadway.

An hour and a half later they were running into Mexico City, and as the dominating shape of the Latin-American Tower came into view against the intense dark blueness of the afternoon sky Caroline blinked and gave herself a little shake, for she had very nearly been asleep. The events of the day had tired her, and her companion
’
s conversational resources had dried up at a very early stage. Several times they had lost sight of Diego
’
s car, which was travelling ahead of them, but just as she roused herself it became visible again, and in fact it seemed to be slowing down.

After a few moments it pulled into the side of the road and stopped, and in obedience to some sort of signal the Dominguez
’
chauffeur also began to slow down, and finally came to a halt a short distance behind. Diego climbed out into the road, and the Senora wound down her window to speak to him. He was looking at his watch.

‘
It is now five o
’
clock,
’
he observed, peering into the big car
’
s shadowy interior.
‘
Miss Ashley, it will be best if we go first to the house of Senora Dominguez, where she and her daughter will leave us for a while. I shall then drive you to my grandmother
’
s house. There, you will be able to rest and prepare yourself for the evening. At half past seven I will return to collect you.
’