“It must have taken a lifetime to achieve all this,” Summer remarked as the three young people wound their way down one of the many paths. “Everything is planned so carefully.”
“It was begun by my father’s grandfather,” Gonsalvo told her, “and each son has carried on his work.”
“There are so many trees and flowers that are strange to me. How do you remember them all?” Summer was dazed by the thought of having to learn the names of so many plants.
“We keep carefully detailed plans of the entire grounds in the library,” said Gonsalvo, “and each time a new plant is set out, or dies, it is noted with great care. We can tell you every tree, shrub, vine, and flower that has grown here over the last seventy-five years.”
“Seeing all this makes me wish I had taken more interest in our gardens.” Summer walked around a stone bench that was nestled in the curve of a vine-covered arcade. “Mother didn’t have much time to spare, and father disliked the tropics and anything that reminded him of them.”
“I don’t suppose it is reasonable to expect people who grew up in Scotland to have the same appreciation for the Caribbean we do,” Anita said politely, but it was clear that she and her brother did not relish Summer’s father’s limited appreciation of a world they found so nearly perfect.
“Where is this river house I’ve heard so much about?” Summer asked, wanting to change the subject. “After all I’ve been told, I’m going to be very hard to impress.”
Gonsalvo responded to her buoyant spirits. “It’s just around that bank of hibiscuses. Remember I was not the one who praised the house, so don’t be angry with me if it fails to meet your expectations.”
“Are you running shy?” Summer asked saucily.
“Not exactly,” he answered evasively.
“Covering your tracks then?” She gave him no quarter.
“Trying to cover all possibilities,” Gonsalvo countered.
“He’s trying to flatter you, no matter what he says,” teased his irrepressible sister.
“Lead me on, gallant knight,” Summer requested jauntily. “I shall be satisfied with nothing less than a slice of paradise.”
And that was what she found.
On the other side of the hibiscuses the lawn sloped gently down to a still river that was no more than fifty feet wide at its greatest width. Its banks were lined with thick growths of water hyacinths and overhanging branches shaded the river’s edge. Great clumps of moss trailed airy tentacles in the delicate breeze, while birds fluttered through the branches filling the air with their songs.
An island built of stone and covered with white sand dredged from the river bottom rose from the water about fifteen feet from the bank. It was reached by way of a moss-covered stone walkway capped by a green ribbon of grass. In the center of the island stood a newly whitewashed bower partly covered with wisteria vines whose pale purple blooms scented the air. Several chairs and lounges, generously provided with cushions, were placed in the shade, and a small boat was tied at the foot of a tiny dock. In the coolness of the bower stood a large table covered with enough food to feed ten guests twice as hungry as Summer.
“Do you like it?” asked Gonsalvo, the pride of possession in his voice.
“Oh, yes,” Summer sighed, somewhat in awe of such consummate luxury. “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”
“You have made Gonsalvo your slave for life,” chortled Anita, moving ahead of them. “He’s secretly very proud of this island and loves to have it admired.”
“Attend to your duties as hostess and stop trying to embarrass me,” scolded her brother.
Summer couldn’t remember when she had enjoyed food so much. Everything was deliciously prepared and beautifully served. She was loathe to destroy what had taken so much artistry to create, but her hosts showed no such reluctance and before long not a dish remained untouched.
But it was the enchantment of her surroundings that captured Summer’s imagination. She leaned back on thick cushions and watched the play of light and shadow in the leaves high above her head. Gazing down then, she found the gently undulating beds of hyacinths hypnotic, and she succumbed willingly to a deep feeling of contentment. Water lapped against the cool stone base of the island lulling her, and Summer finally felt utterly at peace.
Chapter 25
“Would you like to go for a ride on the river?” asked Gonsalvo as he rose from the table. “The current is almost nonexistent at this time of the year. We can float idly along.”
“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Summer replied languidly, “but I’ve eaten so much I’m not sure I can move.”
“I can carry you.”
“How many times do I have to tell you to behave, Gonsalvo?” admonished Anita. “If you are going to upset the countess with your foolishness, I will not be able to leave you alone with her.”
“Where are you going?” asked Summer, trying to clear her mind of the heaviness that seemed to weigh her down.
“I hate to admit it, but I don’t care for boating on the river,” Anita confessed, “particularly after I’ve eaten.”
“I’ll come with you,” Summer offered.
Anita staunchly refused. “Absolutely not. Stay here and enjoy your afternoon.”
“Are you trying to run away from me?” Gonsalvo quipped.
“Not at all,” Summer languorously replied. “I just didn’t want Anita to think I was deserting her.”
“I’ll have some refreshments waiting when you return,” she offered. Summer made a face at the thought of more food, but Anita only laughed. “The river makes you hungry,” she said.
Summer’s and Gonsalvo’s eyes followed her as she traversed the walkway to the riverbank. It took very little time for her to reach the bend in the path, turn, and wave to them before disappearing behind the hibiscuses.
“Would you like anything else?” Gonsalvo asked.
“I couldn’t eat another bite. I’m so stuffed I just might stay here and go to sleep.”
“If you must doze, it’s much nicer on the river. The current is so sluggish you will hardly know you’re moving.”
“Where does it go?”
“It twists and turns through the estate for the next mile or two, and then comes out on the other side of the house a short distance from where we entered the avenue. It’s a long ride to nowhere.”
“That suits my mood.”
Gonsalvo helped Summer out of her chair.
“Will the sun be hot?” Summer asked, remembering she had not brought a sun shade.
“The boat is fitted with a large parasol.”
“You think of everything, don’t you?”
“It’s always wise to plan ahead.”
“Now you sound like Captain Douglas,” Summer complained. “It’s too warm and I’m too full of your delicious food to listen to anything that sounds like good advice. I want to waste my time, be frivolous, and do absolutely nothing worthwhile.”
“Admirable.” He laughed. “Spoken like a true Spaniard.”
“You Spanish can’t be allowed to have all the fun,” Summer decreed as she permitted herself to be led down stone steps to where the boat was tied. “If I’m going to spend the rest of my life freezing in Scotland, I’ll be practical when I must.”
“Does your husband know how much you dislike Scotland?”
“I don’t actually dislike it.” Summer chided herself for letting her tongue get away from her again. “It’s just that after spending my whole life here, it will be very hard to get used to blizzards and frozen rivers.”
“I should think it would be impossible.” Gonsalvo had spent one winter in Madrid. “How do you keep warm?”
“With lots of roaring fires.” Summer wondered how there could be a tree left standing in Scotland. “But I don’t want to talk about the cold and snow. I want to enjoy this marvelous day. Oh, you have cushions, too,” she said, and sighed contentedly.
“They are much more comfortable than wood
en seats.”
“I may stay here forever.”
Summer settled herself while Gonsalvo opened the huge parasol and fitted it into the grooved slot at the side of the boat. Then she leaned back and closed her eyes.
“Don’t wake me until tomorrow,” she said.
“Don’t you dare go to sleep on me,” Gonsalvo ordered sternly as he cast off and steered the boat toward the middle of the river. “Some of the finest scenery is along the river.”
“Describe it to me,” Summer murmured. “I have a very good imagination.”
“I think you ought to know a snake is about to drop on you from that limb overhead.”
When Summer instantly opened her eyes and sat up, Gonsalvo burst into laughter.
“You beast,” she said, trying not to smile. “I have a good mind to join Anita and let you have the river and its snakes all to yourself.”
“I won’t play any more tricks,” he promised.
“You’d better not. I didn’t come out here to be frightened to death.”
Summer settled back to listen as Gonsalvo talked about the birds and the other creatures that lived in the gardens and the surrounding forests. But she didn’t listen very closely. Instead, she watched the magnificent canopy overhead as their boat moved lazily in and out of the shadows. Her eyelids sank lower and lower, and Gonsalvo’s voice grew softer and softer until it became no more than an indistinct murmur from somewhere far away.
Brent’s boots pounded a drummer’s cadence as he strode along the corridors. Smith had sent him back to the hotel after he’d started an argument for the fourth time that day, each time with a prospective buyer. He wasn’t in a very good mood.
“I can deal with everybody much better when you aren’t swearing and scaring people into having nothing to do with us,” Smith had told Brent after the merchant had hurried away without agreeing to purchase anything.
“It’s my ship and I don’t have to sell to any of these timorous clerks you’ve rounded up.”
“If you don’t stop shouting at every person who sets foot on your ship, your cargo will rot or be eaten by rats before you sell it,” Smith countered, not the least intimidated by Brent’s intemperate rage. “Then it won’t matter if your agents are courageous daredevils or cowardly fools.”
None of the officers could explain the irrational furies that had plagued Brent since they’d reached Havana, but they took pains to stay out of his way. His rage was no less dangerous for being unexplained. Smith had born the brunt of Brent’s ill humor, but he remained unshaken, and treated Brent with an unfailing patience which caused him to grow angrier still.
“Why don’t you tell me to go to hell or knock me down or put a bullet through me?” Brent stormed after Smith had stoically endured another of his vituperative tirades.
“You could break every bone in my body. And in your present mood, you probably would.”
“You know I wouldn’t,” Brent began, but he didn’t go on.
“No, not if you were in your right mind,” Smith said gravely, “but in your present state I wouldn’t care to risk it. One of us has to be in condition to tend to the ship’s business.” The truth of Smith’s words made Brent so rousingly angry that he then worked off the worst of his spleen by quarreling with a crew of stevedores. He left them shaken, confused, and unable to account for the argument or its abrupt conclusion.
Smith knew what was troubling his captain, but he meant to let him discover it for himself. Brent wasn’t going to be happy when he figured it out, but he’d be less likely to face up to the truth if it came from someone else. He had never been one to accept news he didn’t like; he preferred to bend Fate to his will. At last, Smith suspected Brent would be the one who would do the bending.
Smith picked up his pen, then paused before turning to his ledger. He hoped Summer was at the hotel. Someone had to deal with Brent, and since she had destroyed his peace of mind, she should be the one to restore it.
Brent knocked sharply at the door of Summer’s suite. When it remained closed, he struck the door so hard it rattled, but he still received no answer. Too angry to wait for anyone to bring a key, he smashed the lock and stormed in; there was no one there. Annoyed and perplexed, he strode to the bell rope and set about ringing it wildly. Someone had to know what was going on, and he was damned well going to find out. By the time he had paced the room for nearly ten minutes, he was in a black rage and was itching to tear someone to pieces. It was Alonzo who finally hurried into the room.
“Where in the hell is Summer?” Brent roared, too angry to remember to use her title.
“The countess has gone out,” Alonzo gasped, out of breath.
“Where?” Brent demanded.
“Unfortunately she did not inform me of her plans.”
“Then get me her maid.”
“The countess gave her maid the afternoon off. I didn’t even know that Chichi was absent until you began ringing the bell so frantically. I’ve already sent someone to fetch her.”
“That scatter-brained wench was never worth a farthing,” Brent gnashed his teeth, “but I thought she would at least stay where she belonged.”
“I believe the countess gave her permission to visit her mother.”
“I’m not paying her to visit her mother,” Brent said with biting sarcasm. “I’m paying her, and you too, for that matter, to take care of the countess.”
“I have every reason to suppose the countess is being well cared for,” Alonzo disclosed, stung by Brent’s unfair accusations.
“And exactly what do you mean by that, you miserable worm?” Brent advanced on the hotelkeeper with grim resolve.
“The countess spends most of her afternoons in the company of Gonsalvo de Aguilar.”
“Do you mean to tell me you allowed her to leave the hotel with that rake?”
“I do not know for certain she is in his company,” Alonzo countered, wishing he had remained silent. “It is just that he and his sister are constant visitors. I have seen no one else.”
“His sister? Do you mean that tiny, squat creature?”
“He has only one sister.” Alonzo was unruffled.
“That slithering reptile would be certain to keep his serpent’s eyes hooded until he has his prey in his grasp,” Brent shouted.
“But I thought he was a friend of yours, a business partner?”
“He’s a lecher,” Brent said brutally, “and he uses his charm and good looks to conceal an unwavering determination to seduce every female that interests him, no matter how briefly.” Just then Chichi rushed in, breathless from running all the way back from her mother’s cottage.
“Where have you been, you stupid girl?” Brent demanded, rounding on her with boiling rage. “And what do you mean by letting your mistress leave the hotel with a deceiver like Gonsalvo de Aguilar?”
“They are going to spend the day at Casa Carvalho,” stammered Chichi, intimidated by Brent’s rage.
“And you were such a blockhead that you let her go?” Brent roared so violently that Chichi retreated behind a large sofa. Alonzo turned pale, but stood his ground.
“How could I stop her?”
“You could have told her not to go.” Brent felt that he was talking to two-year-olds.
“The de Aguilars are a very respectable family,” protested Chichi, “and he said he was your friend.”
“He is not my friend and he is not respectable. All you had to do was ask.”
“But you weren’t here. You’re never here when the countess wants you,” Chichi said with a hint of her old spirit.
“I never thought you were very intelligent, but I didn’t expect you to be witless.”
“You are the one who is always telling her never to listen to anything I say, that I am a great fool,” Chichi shot back at Brent.
“And so you’ve proved to be.” Brent gathered up his coat. “Alonzo!” he thundered, so ferociously the little man wondered if his time had come. “I want a carriage at the door
in five minutes, and it had better be harnessed to the four best horses in your stable.” Alonzo’s eyes nearly started from his head. He opened his mouth to protest such an impossible order, but he closed it when he encountered the bloodthirsty look in Brent’s eyes.
“Don’t waste your breath telling me why it can’t be done. If that carriage isn’t waiting for me when I step out of this hotel, you’ve drawn your last breath.”
Alonzo escaped Brent’s presence determined to have a carriage ready in the required time if he had to stop one in the street and pull its rightful occupants from it.
“As for you,” Brent roared, whipping around and causing Chichi to gasp in fright, “have everything the countess owns packed and be out of here when I return. I don’t want to set eyes on you again, or I’ll not be responsible for my actions.”
“Please, Captain Douglas …” Chichi began, but her words were cut off by a blast worthy of a medieval dragon.
“Goddammit girl, do as I tell you,” Brent said, then he opened Summer’s bedroom door and watched coldly as the sobbing maid ran in. “Remember, you’re to be gone before I get back,” he commanded before striding out of the suite. He closed the door with such violence that one of the hinges was torn from the frame.
More than five minutes had elapsed before Brent appeared in the hotel courtyard, but a carriage was waiting and four fretting horses were ready to be off. Alonzo had instilled abject fear of Captain Douglas in the grooms, and had thus enabled them to harness a team in a time previously thought impossible. They, in turn, had communicated their fear to the horses, making them restless.
“There’d better not be a slug among them,” Brent warned Alonzo as he climbed into the carriage and took up the reins. “Out of my way before I run over you,” he shouted to the groom holding the lead horses.
Alonzo watched him disappear in a thick cloud of dust, greatly relieved that he was not the object of the captain’s rage. He hoped that Gonsalvo had had the good sense to leave the countess in the company of his mother and his sister. Nothing less would be likely to convince Captain Douglas of the man’s honorable intentions.
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