Dear Conquistador

by Margery Hilton

  ‘Yes, now I can recognize him. He is what we would call pompous, and no sense of humour. ’

  ‘He wishes to marry Sanchia.’

  Hilary’s expression must have conveyed a reaction of which Juanita approved, for the younger girl nodded mournfully. ‘Yes, her family approve. He is vastly wealthy and when his mother dies he will inherit all her estate, for there is no one else. He has much money invested in fertilizer. ’

  ‘Poor Sanchia,’ Hilary murmured under her breath.

  ‘She has not yet decided, but it is unfortunate. She is no longer a girl and she may not have many more opportunities,’ Juanita said with a seriousness that promoted Sanchia to a sereneness she certainly did not warrant. ‘I do not think she has the large dote. Her late husband was not a rich man. ’ Hilary expelled a sharp breath. ‘I’m surprised they allowed her to marry him, then,’ she observed tartly. ‘Seeing that such store is set on material values.’

  ‘ You do not understand,’ Juanita said patiently. ‘It is simply that families who care about their daughters’ happiness wish to ensure that the suitors they choose are able to support them. Actually, they did not fully approve of Sanchia’s choice, but she refused to marry into the Romez family. She wanted to marry an americano once, but I do not know all the details. It was many years ago and I was still a child. But I overhear little bits...’

  ‘She was happy, though,’ Hilary said thoughtfully. ‘She told me she’d escaped into a marvellous freedom.’

  Juanita sighed her agreement and wandered to the window. After a moment she asked: ‘Do you like Senor Gilford?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ Hilary said cautiously.

  ‘He seems very nice. It would be exciting if he fell in love with you. ’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t.’

  ‘Why not?’ Juanita swung round. ‘He is attractive and I think he likes you. Then you would fall in love with him and be as happy as I am.’ She gave a blissful sigh. ‘I have been so happy this week-end. ’

  ‘Well, you concentrate on your own happiness and leave me - and Bruce Gilford - out of your speculations,’ Hilary told her in humorous tones that were, nevertheless, firm. ‘Just because we’re both English and found one another easy to talk to doesn’t mean we’re going to fall headlong in love.’

  Juanita put her head on one side and studied Hilary with a thoughtful sidelong regard. ‘Are you in love with anybody?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Not even attracted?’ The wide eyes expressed disbelief. ‘You mean there’s no man who makes you — how do you say it? - tingle all the way down your spine just to think of him?’

  ‘Most certainly not.’ Hilary returned briskly to putting away her make-up kit. ‘And that isn’t entirely love, my pet, those tingles down the spine.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but they are very pleasant, are they not?’ said Juanita, with an air of innocence that was a little overdone.

  ‘No doubt. But one can’t spend one’s entire life enjoying tingles down the spine. There are other aspects. Have you unpacked, Juanita?’

  ‘Marita has done it for me - she said to give her your laundry, by the way.’ Juanita took a deep breath. ‘Why do you change the subject, Hilary?’

  ‘Love and tingles aren’t a Monday-morning topic.’ Hilary giggled, the conditioning of two years of the Monday morning atmosphere after the battle of the underground and the aseptic polish aroma of the office, especially on wet Monday mornings, still very easily evoked. ‘But you wouldn’t know anything about that.’

  ‘I think there is some man, but you do not want to tell me,’ said Juanita with unusual persistence.

  ‘There’s nothing to tell. If there were anyone special at home do you think I could bear to leave him?’

  ‘Hm.’ Juanita did not appear entirely convinced.

  ‘And I haven’t been here long enough to fall in love with anyone new.’

  ‘No, that is true, perhaps. But who knows? We may meet someone exciting on miercoles,’ Juanita said hopefully. ‘Ramon has a friend who knows one of the singers at Las Castanuelas Rojas. Are you looking forward to our visit there?’

  ‘Very much.’ Hilary nodded and the younger girl moved restlessly. ‘I wish it were tonight.’

  ‘It will soon be here,’ Hilary assured her patiently.

  Strangely, despite her prophecy, the two days did drag, even to Hilary, for whom the long-awaited evening did not hold the same vital fascination that stretched Juanita’s patience to breaking point.

  The week began quietly and the villa had a calm more pronounced than usual, though it was probably a natural contrast to the festive air of the week-end at the hacienda. Dona Elena was tired after her reunion with her friend and the excitement and she kept mostly to her own sala. Joaquin managed to fall down and graze his knees rather badly within a couple of hours of returning, and the Conde left almost immediately to complete the business matters interrupted at the week-end. Ramon, of course, went with him and by the Wednesday afternoon Juanita was convinced that fate would delay them and Ramon would not return in time.

  Hilary was infected by this anxiety, and found herself waiting with a curious impatience she could not dismiss. When the sleek shining Chevrolet arrowed up the drive and the tall lithe figure emerged she gave a small sigh that was almost relief.

  Joaquin limped to greet him, but she stayed where she was, in the shade of the high trellis which was ablaze with scarlet blossom, and returned his formal ‘Buenas tardes, senorita,’ with equal gravity.

  Less than an hour later he departed again.

  What was the favour he had intended to ask of her? Hilary wondered as she got ready to go out. He had told her he would discuss it later; it was now four days later. Admittedly she had had only the briefest of contacts with him during those four days. Perhaps it was not of importance. Perhaps of such little importance it was already forgotten ... She fastened tiny crystal ear-rings to her lobes and turned to pass judgment on Juanita’s appearance.

  She had chosen a tight-bodiced dress of sheerest ivory panne velvet with wrist-length sleeves and a sleek clinging skirt that flowed when she moved. It had no trimming at all, but a heavy coral and pearl choker at her bare throat was a perfect foil and gave her dark demure beauty the maturity she craved.

  She waited expectantly, unconsciously posing, and Hilary said with perfect truth: ‘You look beautiful. Ramon and I will have to keep you under lock and key tonight. ’

  ‘Really?’ Juanita dimpled. ‘I look grown-up?’

  ‘At least twenty! ’

  ‘Bueno! I so often wish I were taller. And you too look wonderful, my Hilary. Bella! She twirled excitedly. ‘Come, let us go before someone changes their mind and stops us.’

  The sense of freedom was potent. Ramon drove a small silver-blue coupe at an exhilarating speed which had the wind sporting through the girls’ hair and had them laughing and breathless when they reached the tucked-away restaurant which was a favourite with the locals. It was quiet and intimate in atmosphere, and the food was superb. Ramon was a pleasant host, if a little formal towards Hilary at first, and there was something rather touching about his grave courtesy as he ensured that everything should be to her liking, almost to the exclusion of Juanita. But soon they all relaxed and forgot formality to become three young people out to enjoy themselves.

  Because the evening was still young they dined leisurely, and then strolled the short distance to Las Castanuelas Rojas, which, in the tradition of most nightspots the world over, would not really start swinging until the hour grew late and the crowd poured in.

  And crowded it soon became. The heat rose in waves to the balcony alcove which Hilary and her two companions shared with a party of four strangers. Hilary fanned her warm face with her programme and wondered how the dancers below kept up their pace without melting into grease-spots. The castanets clicked their rataplan, heels beat out a sharp tattoo of ever-increasing speed on the hard wood apron of stage, and the cascading frills of scarlet and yellow and or
ange whirled and rippled with the supple bodies of the dancers. But despite the colour and fire of the girls it was the male dancer who captured the admiration of the audience.

  Tall, and almost deceptively slight in the tight, high-waisted trousers, close-fitting black bolero, and the stiff-brimmed formal sombrero, his movements seemed effortless as he conveyed rhythm, dignity and smouldering fire in a faultlessly executed floor pattern. Soon he was alone, centred in a spotlight outside of which there was almost total blackness, bringing sound, spectacle and fervour to a climax which held everyone breathless and captive. When the lights went up and the tumult of applause began to die Hilary turned to her companions.

  They smiled at her pleasure, and Juanita said softly, ‘Ah, but wait until you hear the flamenco - Manuel is the best of all

  - very romantic.’ Her gaze strayed as she spoke, to the couple who were sitting to Hilary’s left. They were talking in soft whispers over their programme and it was possible now to tell that they were visitors or tourists and English. In the seconds before the lights dimmed again the boy smiled into the girl’s eyes and drew her hand into his clasp.

  Hilary thought she detected a wistfulness in Juanita’s expression and she sighed with understanding. No matter how envious Juanita might feel of the young couple’s freedom to betray their affection for one another her cloistered upbringing would effectively stifle any temptation to do the same; Spanish people, voluble and demonstrative in so many other ways, did not express their emotional feelings towards the opposite sex in public.

  The rhythm of guitars began and the first notes of song instantly evoked the plaintive, haunting sadness of old Andalusia. Hilary forgot her thoughts, and it came as something of a shock when the long story in song ended and she discovered that Juanita and Ramon were no longer at her side.

  The flamenco was the last item of the cabaret and the patrons were dispersing to other amusements, some to eat, some to drink, others to dance on the ballroom floor below. Hilary moved out of the alcove and looked for a sign of her companions. Almost immediately she saw them entering from the terrace door near the head of the stairs. There was a dark feverish glow about Juanita that told its own tale of stolen ardour and even at that moment she was disengaging her hand from Ramon’s. Hilary moved forward, but before she could pass through the clusters of patrons blocking her way a tall, elegant man ascending the stairway spotted Ramon and turned to him with a voluble greeting.

  A sense of uneasiness she could not quite define disturbed Hilary as she reached the little group and was introduced to the elegant stranger, who, it transpired, was the mutual acquaintance of Ramon and the singer, Manuel, mentioned previously by Juanita.

  Senor Pereira bowed over Hilary’s hand and professed himself charmed to meet the English senorita. In a very short while Hilary, along with an excited Juanita and Ramon, found herself being conducted behind the scene to the singer’s dressing-room and being introduced to Manuel himself. He was as romantic and charming close to as under the spotlight, and he too professed himself charmed by the English senorita. He spoke of his last visit to London, was amusingly modest when she said how much she’d enjoyed the flamenco, invited her to return as his guest at a later performance during his season at Las Castanuelas Rojas, and was then drawn away by his other admirers en route for a party.

  A little bemused by this singling out, Hilary did not notice that Senor Pereira had attached himself to her own small party. By the time she did realize this it was too late to back out; they were seated at his table and an obsequious waiter was taking his drinks order. But the pattern of events soon became obvious after Ramon had dutifully asked her to dance and Juanita was claimed by the elegant newcomer, and then Hilary found herself with her proper partner.

  I must be getting dim! she thought wryly, gliding on to the dance floor in the expert arms of Senor Pereira. Now there was a proper balance of numbers; she was no longer the gooseberry! However, Senor Pereira was an excellent dancer, so how could she back out and spoil Juanita’s sweet hour? And why not? It was a superb floor, the orchestra was good, the atmosphere luxuriously beckoning, and the air-conditioning seemed to function perfectly. She said so to her partner and he smiled his approval at her pleasure.

  ‘We have many visitors come here. Especially the americanos - and you know how they care for their air-conditioning and their ice. Ah, their ice! They even serve our vino de Jerez on the rocks!’ He gave a pretended shudder of horror, and Hilary laughed.

  He was the ne plus ultra of Latin courtesy, and after a while he had almost disarmed Hilary of her instinctive reserve. But a tiny element of wariness remained, even though she wondered if she was imagining that he held her a shade closer than was necessary whenever one of the inevitable near-collisions of a crowded ballroom floor threatened. Mentally, she made a reckoning of time, setting a limit at which, when it arrived, she was going to insist that Ramon took Juanita and herself home. But long before the hands of her watch reached that time Senor Pereira decided he had been patient long enough with this cool English miss. He inquired if she would care for another drink, frowned slightly at her polite refusal, and said: ‘May I?’

  Juanita and Ramon were already back on the floor and with a little sigh Hilary acquiesced. Another half hour, she decided, then they would leave. It was almost midnight. By the time they walked back to the car and drove home... She had no idea of the rule governing Juanita’s time of being in at night; the question had never arisen and she had not thought to check ... Heavens! Supposing it was some ridiculously early hour ... it would be ghastly if there was a row...

  ‘Please do not look so concerned, senorita. They are being very discreet.’

  ‘I beg your pardon! ’

  Her partner’s low-voiced injunction brought her back from her worried thoughts and she stared up at his suave, rather fleshy features.

  ‘I said - they are being perfectly discreet.’ Senor Pereira smiled, showing very white teeth under the dark smooth thread of moustache. ‘You are taking your duties of duena very seriously, are you not, senorita? But your English love of freedom makes you very understanding of two young people kept apart by outworn convention. ’

  Hilary’s fine brows narrowed. ‘I’m not sure what you mean, senor.’

  ‘Ah, come, senorita One has only to look at them to see. It is a pity it will never be permitted to flower. ’

  She felt a tremor of panic. How many more people had guessed poor Juanita’s secret? Consuelo certainly suspected. Bruce had guessed. And now this stranger. How long before it came to the Conde’s ear?

  She said uneasily, ‘You are quite mistaken, senor. Actually,’ she attempted to laugh, ‘Juanita is chaperoning me tonight. ’

  ‘You!’ He laughed openly and his arm tightened. ‘An English girl with a chaperone! When the world knows that an English miss does exactly as she pleases, goes where she pleases, and with whom she pleases. Oh, that is a good joke. But not to worry - that is how you say it, I believe. I shall be the soul of discretion. No one will hear of their stolen assignation tonight. How could I even notice them when I have so charming a partner to occupy my attention?’

  He bent his head nearer and murmured, ‘ So take off that worried little frown, amada mia, and let us enjoy the evening.’

  To her dismay he began to pay her the most outrageous compliments. In languorous, unctuous tones he admired her soft, gold-spun hair, dwelled at some length on the famous English-rose quality of complexion, let his warm gaze feast with ever-increasing ardour on all those attributes he found so appealing, until Hilary was in an agony of embarrassment.

  It was impossible to escape without drawing attention to herself. He was holding her much too firmly for that, and he was also well aware of the trait inherent in most people that makes them dread causing a scene. Even so, it still did not occur to her that she might fail to deal with the situation. She had been caught by the ageless wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing trick and could blame only herself for being so foolish. She wo
uld have to suffer it until this endless medley of old-time movie themes came to an end, then she would politely but firmly bring the evening to a close.

  Perhaps Senor Pereira suspected that she wasn’t going to be an easy victim to his blandishments. His hold tightened and his manner perceptibly changed. He said in a low voice: ‘ Senorita, I trust you are not thinking of making a fool of me in front of all these people.’

  ‘I have no desire to make a fool of anyone, senor,’ she said tautly, ‘but I must ask you not to embarrass me any further. You have made it perfectly plain that you are well acquainted with our customs, therefore there is no excuse for presuming on them. Otherwise I shall have no choice but to make fools of both of us, senor,’ she added grimly.

  She felt rather than saw his tight-lipped, indrawn breath of anger. But when he spoke his voice was controlled. ‘In that case, senorita, we will finish the dance and I will return you to your companions.’

  ‘Thank you, senor,’ she acknowledged coldly.

  He did not speak again, but those last few minutes on the dance floor were the most distasteful Hilary had ever experienced. No matter how she tensed and tried to keep a formal distance Senor Pereira’s hot hand stayed like a clamp on her spine, bending her against him at every turn. At last she could not bear the lecherous humiliation a moment longer. Almost in tears, she saw a break in the encircling throng and tore herself free. Heedless of heads turning and the angry exclamation following her, she ran off the floor, scarcely avoiding collision with a tall, statuesque woman who turned and stared after her with disapproving eyes.

  She brushed at her eyes, furious with humiliation and positive that every eye in the ballroom was looking at her scarlet face, and stared blindly across the weaving pattern of dancers. Where were Juanita and Ramon? She had to find them quickly, before ... She gave a small murmur of distress as she failed to see either of them and bit her lip. They must be sitting out, or— ‘Oh!’