by Hilary Wilde
keeping Juan so busy and so moody? Why wouldn't Mike tell her? Why were the whole family so worried about it?
As she opened the door, the nanny, who normally totally ignored her, now gave something that looked like a little bob. Tank . . . oo,' she said.
Catalina giggled. ` Th . . .th . . . thank you,' she said sternly.
The nanny smiled, the first smile Penny had seen on the usually stern face. Then she spoke in rapid Spanish to Catalina who stood by her side.
`She says she is sorry she can't speak English, Penny, but thank you for saving Abilio's life.'
Penny had guessed that was what the nanny was trying to say, but it was good to hear it. Had she perhaps made the first move through the cold barrier of the staff's hatred?
After the nanny had gone, Catalina put her arms round Penny's neck and kissed her, then turned to Techa and said something in Spanish, and Techa came forward with a shy little smile and tilted back her head to that Penny could kiss her. Penny's eyes stung with tears and she hugged them both.
`You must . . . teach me to . . do that,' Catalina said with her slow but good English. `Save lives. Abilio is so silly.'
`I will,' Penny promised.
The door opened suddenly and Juan and
Anita came in.
`Are you coming to the dance tonight, Penny?' Anita, looking every bit as beautiful and elegant as usual in pale blue trews and matching shirt, asked.
Penny was startled. She had forgotten all about the dance. Actually she didn't feel in the mood for dancing, somehow. She didn't know why, but perhaps it was because she was still recovering from the shock of the day before when little Abilio had nearly died. She knew she would never forget the shock and horror she had felt when she saw his still little body covered with water, or the way her heart had pounded as she went to work on him, praying, as she did all she had been taught to do, that the boy's life was not lost. Nor had it been, and maybe she should rejoice, but she felt . . .
`I'd rather not,' she said. 'I don't feel much like dancing.'
`Why not?' Anita looked annoyed, then turned to Juan. 'Why don't you come?'
He lifted his foot that was still bandaged tightly. 'What should I do—sit and watch?' he asked with a smile. 'What a pleasant evening!'
`If Mike and Valentin are going, why not take Julieta?' Penny suggested.
` Julieta?'Anitarepeated,speaking
sarcastically.
`Why not?' Juan chimed in. 'A good idea. At least there'll be the two of you.' He sounded amused.
`I suppose so. I don't know why I said I'd go in the first place.'
Juan laughed. 'Frankly, Anita, I wondered which of the two men you fancied. I think Valentin is more your type.'
`He's so young,' shrugged Anita.
`He's very nice,' Penny joined in. 'Actually, Anita, he's one of the best dancers I know.'
`He is? Oh, well, perhaps. I'll go and talk to Julieta,' Anita said, and left the room, not having even looked at the three children, leaning against Penny as she sat by the table while Juan sat on the edge of it.
`Well, they seem very fond of you,' he commented, looking at the children. 'I suppose that's due to your act of gallantry yesterday.'
`Gallantry?' It was a strange sort of word to use, Penny thought.
`Why not? It must have taken quite a lot of courage to cope with Abilio yourself.
`I didn't think of it . . . I just knew it had to be done.'
`You are always too modest,' said Juan, and Penny didn't like the way he spoke; it sounded sarcastic.
`By the way,' he went on, 'just why won't you go dancing tonight? Do you prefer to stay here in order to be near the scintillating, handsome Alfonso?'
Penny's cheeks burned. 'Of course not!' `Then why?'
Should she tell him the truth? That not only
did she feel still too close to what might have been a tragedy but that, deep inside her, she knew that she saw more of Juan during the long evenings with the family than she did the rest of the day and that was the most important thing in her life?
A sudden desire to tell Juan everything seized her—about Alfonso and her fear that it was his doing, that fall Juan had made, the fall that had been meant for her. But the children were there—and Catalina was staring at them and she understood a great deal. So it wouldn't be wise.
`Why do you have visitors here every night?' Penny asked. 'I mean, I know they're all family, but wouldn't it be more sensible and less expensive to visit one another?'
Juan laughed. 'Of course it would. Any fool knows that, but the fact you have to understand is that you are not in the normal world but on the island of Vallora. It is the custom that goes back several centuries. The man who has charge of the island is the patriarch. It is his job to guide, protect and judge and condemn the rest of the family. They visit us as a sign of respect, but wait for an invitation. This Magdalena enjoys doing, I know, for she has studied the many feuds and rarely makes a mistake.' He shrugged. 'I know that it sounds crazy, but the family have leaned on tradition for centuries and come to us for advice and help.'
`They accept you?' Penny asked.
`Of course. They have no choice,' he said with a cold callous smile, and stood up. 'Well, bye-bye, piccaninnies . . .' He gently pulled Catalina's blonde plait, ruffled Techa's and Abilio's hair and left them.
*
The next week-end, Penny and the children received an invitation from Dotia Justina Melado to stay with her for a few days. Naturally they accepted, and Penny found herself looking at once for the picture of the small boy and the white horse.
No, as she had thought, it was not the same boy. This one was young—about Techa's age, that would be five years old. The one who had died? But how?
The old lady loved having the children to stay and she and Penny had little time to talk until the evening. They had had a delicious dinner and sat drinking coffee in the bright clean drawing room, with glasses of sherry by their side. They talked—how they talked!
but Penny enjoyed it, for she had grown to love Dona Justina, and to feel sorry for her because a son like Alfonso must be a big worry.
It seemed he was more than that. Sitting in the quiet room, Doria Justina seemed glad to have the chance to talk.
`I always feel so guilty about my poor son,'
she confessed.
Penny thought at once it must be the son who died, but she was wrong, for Doria Justina went on: 'It was all my fault, though I did not—and could not—know it at the time.' She was waving her pretty little fan back and forwards as she talked. 'You see, when Diego told his father that he wished to marry me, his father was angry and refused to allow it. Apparently he and my father had fought a duel over a girl they both loved and my father won. She was my mother—but she died when I was born. Francisco Melado said my father had killed her—and the feud began. Serior Melado would have nothing to do with the Vives family. That was mine, and he said it was out of the question. In the end, however, Diego's father agreed. I don't know how Diego persuaded him. So we were married. I thought Diego loved me, but it was my money, for my mother had been wealthy and it all was inherited by me. My husband was like my poor Alfonso. Both with one idea: money! Then when my husband's father died, in his will he left the lease to Pedro's father, Fernando Dominguez, for he had never forgiven Diego. The family were shocked, but nothing could be done. The lease was in his name, passed on from his ancestors. So you see, my dear child, that it was because I married Alfonso's father that he is not in charge of Vallora today.'
`You wish he was?'
The old lady shrugged. 'I wish him to be happy, and he is not. There are many things about Alfonso that upset me. Has he told you how my youngest son died?' she asked suddenly, and saw from the startled look on Penny's face that he had. 'You were told that Juan murdered my little boy? Ah, Alfonso told you, no doubt? I thought so.' The tears rolled down her cheeks and she patted them with an embroidered handkerchief. 'My poor Alfonso,' she said slowly, an
d Penny sat very still as the words came out of the elderly lady's trembling mouth. It was as if she simply had to talk to someone.
It took a long time that night for Penny to get to sleep. What she had been told had frightened her still more.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
On her return with the children, Penny found a family conference being held. Mike told her, explaining why he and Valentin couldn't spend their afternoons with her at the moment.
But you're not to go on your own,' said Mike, his hand closing round her wrist, 'or you'll have that Alfonso after you, and I don't trust the fellow.'
`Neither do I,' Penny said, but she knew their lack of trust was for different things. Mike thought Alfonso was chatting her up; he could have no idea that she knew Alfonso was trying to kill her.
So she spent her siestas in her room, writing letters or reading.
There was an odd atmosphere in the house, one of anxiety, real dismay and wariness. Carriages drew up soon after ten carrying members of the family who had been called to the conference. Lunch was served to them all, but of course, Penny was out of it, for none came into the garden near the children's playground, but she could feel, in the evening gatherings, the different atmosphere. It was almost as if each person was afraid to speak in case someone heard.
Then the unbelievable happened. She was sprawled on her bed one afternoon, reading,
when a knock came on her bedroom door and Maria was there with a note in her hand.
It was in Juan's sprawling arrogant writing: `Come down immediately. Urgent,' Penny read.
Hurriedly she brushed her hair, tied it back with a pale green ribbon to match her dress, then hurried along the corridor, knowing now where the steps were, and down the staircase. She wondered where to go as she reached the hall with its enormous glass dome, but even as she hesitated, Juan came out of his study.
`Visitors—for you,' he said curtly, and led her to the drawing room.
As the door opened and she saw her visitors, Penny stopped dead, unable to believe her eyes. It couldn't be true! But it was . . .
`Daddy!' she cried, and ran forward into the tall, broad-shouldered man's arms. 'I can't believe it! Daddy . . .' she said again, then smiled at Fiona. 'I had no idea.'
`We sent a cable to Juan,' Fiona told her, `and he sent one back saying it was quite convenient and we were most welcome.'
Penny slipped out of her father's arms and turned to Juan.
`Why didn't you tell me?'
He smiled. 'I thought you'd enjoy the surprise more. Look, I've arranged for Nanny to have the children this afternoon, so don't worry about them. A room is prepared and the luggage has been taken up already. He smiled
at Fiona. `I look forward to this evening when we meet again,' he said with a little bow, and left them.
`But this is absolutely super,' Penny smiled. `I can't believe it! Come and see the garden and how beautiful it all is . . .'
She had no chance to speak alone to Fiona until both were dressing for dinner that night and Fiona had come in, asking help with a difficult zipper. 'Your father's no good at it,' Fiona said with a laugh.
It's lovely to see you both —but what made you come?' Penny asked.
`Well—' Fiona looked uneasy, `your father has been working hard, for one thing, and . . .'
`For another thing?' Penny asked with a laugh.
Fiona hesitated. `Frankly, Penny, we were worried about you.'
`Worried—about me?'
`Yes. There was something in your letters. As if something was worrying you, but you couldn't write about it.'
For a moment Penny hesitated and then she told Fiona about her near escape from a fall in which Juan was injured. `Normally I walk in front and the fall was meant for me and then Juan would be accused of having killed me . . .' Penny stopped, since she saw by Fiona's face that she found the whole story impossible to believe. `I know it sounds absurd, Fiona, but . . .'
`But you're really afraid! Look, Penny love, your father is always telling us about your vivid imagination. Don't you think this strange atmosphere and the odd way the family behave has made you lose all sense . .
`Of proportion,' Penny finished the sentence for her. 'I know. Dad was always saying that to me.'
`This Alfonso?'
`I expect you'll meet him tonight. He used to make passes at me, but not, I'm sure, because he liked me. He just wanted to make trouble for me with Juan.'
`Juan? Is he jealous?' Fiona sounded surprised.
`Goodness, no. He's not jealous! It's just that he says I mustn't get mixed up in any scandal . .
`You?' Fiona began to laugh. When she stopped, she gave Penny a hug. 'Well, we're here now, so everything will be all right.'
So it seemed that evening as Penny's father and Fiona were introduced to the family. At once the ladies took to the good-looking Englishman while the Spanish men hovered round Fiona, speaking English to her.
The family conference went on—sometimes Penny heard angry shouts and often in the evenings, she saw that the wives had been
weeping. She wondered what it was all about. She had taken her father and Fiona to meet Doha Justina; they had also played with the children in the garden and were taken round the island in the carriage by Penny.
`Yes, it is beautiful,' Fiona agreed, but there was an odd note in her voice that surprised Penny. 'But?' she asked.
Fiona smiled. 'Maybe because they're living in a world of centuries ago.'
It was early one morning that Fiona walked into Penny's bedroom and woke her. 'Penny,' she said urgently, 'I must tell you something. I heard it late last night—quite by chance, and you'd gone to bed long before we did, so I didn't want to wake you . . .' Fiona's face was white and drawn and Penny sat up.
`Juan?' she demanded at once.
Fiona sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed back her hair as if weary. 'Yes and no. Last night I forgot the fan Doria Justina gave me, and when we came up to bed I went back to get it. I knew I'd left it in the library. I'd been in there earlier looking up something for your father, because he's writing an article about the island, you know. Well, I went into the library. The fan was on the floor by the window and I stooped to pick it up. The window was open and I recognized Alfonso's voice. I heard him say something that . . . that means what you told me isn't just imagination.'
`He was speaking English?'
`No, Spanish. I know!' Fiona smiled. 'No one knows I can speak Spanish—actually I can understand more than I can speak. Remember I wrote and told you how bored I was? Well, I went to a specially fast course in Spanish. I thought it would make it more fun when we came out to visit you. I never thought . . .'
`What did you hear?'
Fiona fidgeted a little. 'Well, apparently the other man was worried about the future— something to do with the possibility of the island being lost—and I heard Alfonso say he was not to worry, that everything was going to be all right. I distinctly heard him also say that the English girl must go and Juan be proved a murderer—that then Vallora would be his and all would be well.'
`So I was right. He does plan . . .' Penny slid out of bed and hastily dressed, talking as she did so. 'What did you do?'
`Well, I waited until I heard them walk away and then I hurried out. I don't think anyone saw me. Why all the rush?'
`I must go and tell Juan.'
Fiona smiled. 'Is it always Juan?'
Penny felt herself blushing. 'Is it so obvious?'
`To me, yes. To others, no. I'm not sure it's a good thing, Penny.'
Penny gave a little laugh. 'I know it's not. He just isn't the marrying kind. There are those two lovely girls you met, and even they
can't get him.' Penny was ready. 'I must go and find him.'
`He won't believe you.'
`He's got to,' said Penny, and managed a smile before hurrying out of the room. She had a strong feeling of fear—of something hanging over their heads. But how could Alfonso arrange it so that Juan would be a
ccused of murdering her? Alfonso was no fool—no doubt he had it all planned.
She couldn't find Juan anywhere. Not in his study, in the dining room, not even in Mike's office. Jose found her looking worriedly in the rooms on the ground floor and asked her what was wrong. Fortunately Catalina had taught Penny a few words of Spanish, so she managed to say she wanted to see Señor del Riego at once and Jose understood. He opened the study door and ushered her into a chair, then said he would find him for her.
She waited and waited—and waited! Finally she went outside into the garden. Perhaps he went for a long walk in the short coolness of the morning. She began to walk down the garden, then stopped dead. Had she walked into a trap? Had Alfonso known that Fiona heard what he said? Had he seen her go into the library, even? Had he told Jose to look out for Penny Trecannon?
It was then she saw Juan, coming out of Mike's office and walking to the house. Penny began to run, but he had gone inside before
she reached it. Breathless and wet with the growing heat, she almost stumbled inside and went to the study. Not even knocking on the door, she opened it and went inside, closed the door and leaned against it.
Juan was stooping over the desk, sorting out some letters.
`Juan . . . Juan . . .' Penny exclaimed breathlessly. She was completely unaware that this was only the second time she had actually addressed him by his Christian name. The other time had been when he fell into the hole!
He looked up. 'There you are. Jose told me you were . . .'
`I had to see you, and quickly. Juan, you've got to believe me, though I know you won't . . . ' She paused for a moment, then went on: `Look, please, Juan . . . please believe me .. . I have proof .. . Fiona heard him . . .' she stammered, stumbling over the words in the endearing way she had when she was frightened as she was now. 'Look!' She grabbed his white jacket. 'Look, you must listen. Please!' She sounded desperate.
He took hold of her arms gently and looked down at her. 'What's all the panic about?' he asked. His gentleness was so surprising that for a moment she couldn't speak. Then the words tumbled out.