Fascination

by Anne Hampson

  ‘As I said,’ returned Carlos, the piercing curtness of his voice cutting the atmosphere, ‘I intend to give a dinner party so that Hydee can be formally introduced to the family.’

  ‘She doesn’t particularly want to be introduced formally,’ Gasper took it on himself to state. ‘This kind of introduction’s far less unnerving than being confronted by a host of strangers all at once.’

  ‘I think it is I who shall decide what is good for my wife.’ Etched into Carlos’ austere features was a harsh, uncompromising quality which sent an involuntary shiver along Hydee’s spine. However, as Gasper chose not to comment, the awkward moment passed, and for the next few minutes the two men talked inconsequentially about the vintage, and then Gasper rose from his chair.

  ‘I shall see you both at the dinner party.’ He smiled reassuringly at Hydee and went out.

  Carlos looked at his wife across the distance separating them and said coldly, ‘Gasper’s the family’s flirt—but I assume you gathered that much?’ There could be no doubt as to his meaning. Hydee averted her head, aware of a little access of anger rising within her because of his attitude. At this moment he was like his sister: arrogant, distant, superior.

  ‘I found him pleasant to talk to,’ she responded quietly. ‘He certainly didn’t do anything I could resent.’ Despite her frayed temper, she was nervous; it was an uncomfortable feeling, which she tried vainly to shake off.

  ‘Gasper doesn’t like my sister.’ Carlos spoke brusquely, making no comment on what she had said. ‘What did he have to say about her?’

  ‘Nothing much,’ she prevaricated, and saw at once that it was not the answer her husband had asked for. His frowning gaze bit into her, and his mouth, compressed into a thin line, seemed almost cruel. ‘Isobella doesn’t like me,’ she continued, then stopped as he made a swift gesture as if to repudiate the statement.

  ‘It’s Gasper who doesn’t like her,’ he corrected. His eyes were coldly curious as he repeated, ‘What did he have to say about her?’

  ‘It was nothing derogatory,’ she murmured, a dryness catching at her throat.

  ‘Derogatory,’ he repeated, and there was no mistaking the significance of the word. Hydee knew she had made a slip, one which she realised could not be rectified.

  But what must she do? To repeat what Gasper had said was unthinkable. ‘I’d rather not carry on this conversation,’ she offered at last, conscious of a little twinge of desolation at the coldness of her husband towards her. For the past few days she had desired to be closer to him, to cement their friendship, but at the same time she had been deterred from making any approach because she had begun to wonder if he felt any real respect for her. Perhaps, deep within him, he despised her, feeling, as his sister did, that she was of low birth when compared to his own noble lineage, which, Hydee knew, could be traced back for a thousand years. ‘Please don’t ask me these questions, Carlos,’ she added pleadingly.

  ‘I shall question Gasper, then.’

  She lapsed into silence, and within a few minutes she was alone, her eyes misty, a weight on her heart which seemed almost to be physical.

  She wrote to Ellie the following day, her letter bright and full of news of the children, and in the end she mentioned the dinner party which Carlos was shortly to give. Hydee wrote lightly of the coming event, but she was quailing inwardly, convinced that it would be an ordeal which she would not forget in a hurry.

  And she was right. The massive dining salon of the Palacio was brilliant with lights, mostly concealed except for the candles on the long glittering table, set in silver‐gilt candelabra. Flowers in the centre were matched in miniature at the ladies’ places. Crystal, fine antique porcelain, hand‐embroidered napkins and table mats . . . Hydee had stood watching Ana and Jesuina putting the finishing touches to the table and knew without any doubt at all that she would be glad when the evening came to an end.

  Chapter Eight

  It happened that the first two guests to arrive were Arminda and her mother, the older woman tall and erect, superbly dressed in a long black velvet gown trimmed with diamanté studs; she was regal, with all the arrogant confidence of a queen. She met Hydee’s gaze as they shook hands, and in the black depths Hydee read, unmistakably, a dark venomous hatred that sent an uncomfortable quiver running along her spine. Hydee flushed under the prolonged unsmiling stare and swallowed convulsively, wishing she were a thousand miles away. Arminda merely inclined her head and moved with the same regal grace as her mother, accepting the chair which Carlos offered to her. Immaculate in evening dress, he fitted in so perfectly that Hydee did not merely feel herself to be the odd one out but admitted quite freely that she was.

  ‘Whereabouts in England do you come from?’ Dona Lucia inquired in tones of icy politeness.

  Hydee told her, wondering if her voice sounded as strange to her listener as it did to her own ears. Arminda was talking to Carlos, who, having brought her a drink, bent to hand it to her, and their heads seemed to Hydee to be far too close. They were speaking quietly, with only a murmur crossing the room to reach Hydee. Arminda’s eyes were faintly accusing but wide and appealing, too.

  It was another ten minutes before the next guests arrived, and Hydee had in some measure calmed down by then, having made a tremendous effort to pull herself together. Her subconscious had warned her that unless she was to appear as totally characterless, she must keep up some kind of a front. She felt that Carlos ought to help her, but on the arrival of four additional friends he merely introduced her and went back to Arminda; he perched himself on the arm of her chair until the arrival of Isobella, who had come without her husband, the excuse being that he was unwell and had decided at the last minute to go to bed.

  Isobella seated herself next to Hydee on the cushioned sofa and waited for her drink to be served by Bento. Carlos, from his place in the middle of the room, watched his sister closely. Isobella began to chat to Hydee and to smile, and had she not been warned by Gasper, Hydee would have been at a loss to account for the change in the woman’s attitude towards her. As Gasper had predicted, Isobella did not intend to let her brother see just how much she disliked her new sister-in-law. Later, however, she said softly, an invidious note in her voice, ‘Well, do you now accept that you’re totally out-of-place here?’

  ‘I’m Carlos’s wife,’ returned Hydee stiffly through whitened lips. Isobella’s answer to this was merely a sneer.

  Ines and her husband, Francisco, arrived and were formally presented to Hydee, who realised at once that Isobella had been talking to them, because their eyes swept her with contempt. A nanny, they were thinking—a servant and yet a relative.

  Other guests arrived, including one of Carlos’s aunts, an overweight woman with silver hair piled high on her head and a face as arrogant as the rest. Her handclasp was damp and limp.

  ‘So you’re the English girl we’ve all been brought here to see.’ Her pale protuberant eyes slid with cold hauteur from the top of Hydee’s head to her feet, and a deep sigh escaped the woman before, turning away, she spoke to one of the other guests, saying, ‘Ah, Antonia, how are you? And how are your charming children?’

  So much for the snub. How many more would come her way before the evening was out? wondered Hydee.

  But at last, just when she was telling herself that he would not come, Gasper arrived, his tall striking figure clad in an off-white suit with a frilled shirt and a black bow tie. He stood for a moment by the door, his eyes scanning the room until they settled on Hydee’s flushed face. With no more than a nod to his cousin, he strode through the brilliant throng of guests until he reached her side.

  ‘Hydee,’ he greeted her, his ready smile succeeding in its intent to lift her spirits and bring a swift, winning response to lips that had been quivering only seconds ago. His hands came out to clasp hers; he bent to brush her cheek with his lips. ‘How charming you look!’ he exclaimed. ‘Blue is definitely your colour.’ His eyes met hers in a steady and reassuring gaze. Her own eyes
, limpid and appealing, thanked him, but she spoke, too, saying with a dignity and assurance she had lacked from the moment of the appearance of the first two guests, ‘Thank you, Gasper. I’m so glad to see you arrive.’

  ‘I’m flattered, my dear.’ For a fleeting second he let his eyes dart to Isobella’s face, and then, deliberately turning his back on her, and keeping hold of Hydee’s hand, he led her over to a vacant couch and they sat down.

  Bento came at once, speaking in Portuguese. Gasper answered in English, haughtily, as if admonishing Bento for not being more polite to his mistress.

  ‘Dry sherry, Bento.’ Gasper looked at Hydee. ‘For you?’

  ‘I left my drink over there.’

  ‘Bento will get you another.’

  His smile was inordinately attractive, filling his eyes with warmth.

  ‘Has she said anything to you?’ he wanted to know when Bento had gone, and he inclined his head in Isobella’s direction so that there could be no question as to whom he meant.

  ‘She’s . . . insulting, Gasper. . . .’ Hydee’s voice trailed off because she knew she ought not to be saying such things to Gasper; it was disloyal to Carlos, who seemed to be quite fond of his sister.

  ‘In what way?’ asked Gasper softly. ‘Tell me about it.’

  She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter—’ she began, but he interrupted her.

  ‘Certainly it matters. Carlos didn’t bring you here to be insulted by his relatives. She’s poison, always has been if she can’t get all her own way. She set her heart on a match between her friend Arminda and Carlos, and it hasn’t come off. She’s seething but helpless.’ Gasper leant closer because Arminda’s mother had sauntered over and was standing rather close, for no apparent reason. ‘Isobella never lets anything rest, and she’ll continue to insult you. Don’t let her acid tongue upset you,’ he advised, his mouth close to her ear. ‘And always remember, Hydee, that you have at least one friend in this family—me. Tomorrow, when Carlos is away, I shall call for you and show you my home. Come and visit me just whenever you like.’

  She nodded, happy at his words about being her friend. ‘I feel so much better now that you’re here,’ she confessed, giving him a lovely smile and then letting it fade when she noticed her husband’s expression as her eyes caught his. He was staring at her with a scowl on his hard, inflexible face, his darkly brilliant eyes appearing almost black as they stared piercingly into hers before moving with a kind of insidious slowness to the face of his cousin. Hydee lowered her lashes, and the next moment Gasper was speaking and she promptly forgot the rather frightening look her husband had given her.

  At the table she had Gasper sitting opposite her, and they chatted like old friends while many arrogant and disapproving eyes looked on.

  Although Carlos spoke to her often, bringing her into the conversation with a smile on his lips, she was profoundly conscious of the fact that his main interest lay with Arminda, who was sitting a little farther along the table from Gasper, and it was to her pale face that his eyes would wander over and over again. Watching Isobella, Hydee noticed the look of satisfaction on her arrogant face, then the sneer of contempt that would invariably replace it if her eyes should alight on Hydee. Gasper was her prop throughout the entire evening, and when it was nearing its end and most of the guests were departing, he managed to get her alone while Carlos was in the hall seeing some of his guests away.

  ‘Remember, I shall call for you tomorrow. Is Carlos planning to buy you a car?’

  ‘I can’t drive,’ she answered, feeling lighthearted at the idea of going out with Gasper the following day. She was not quite sure what her feelings for him were, but she did know that gratitude loomed large.

  ‘You must have a car. I’ll teach you to drive.’

  ‘Will Carlos let me have one, do you think?’

  ‘Ask him; it’s not an unreasonable request.’ He smiled down into her upturned face, an odd expression in his eyes. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said again, and moved away from her as Carlos reentered the room.

  Hydee was so tired that she merely said a swift good night to her husband and went up to her room, to pace for a few minutes, going over in her mind the events of the evening, recapturing the embarrassments and the pleasures. The latter were provided entirely by Gasper, who had known she would be out of her depth and had come prepared to help her through the ordeal. He had done much to smooth her way, for on the whole she had not been sought out for conversation by many of those present. Arminda had come over for a few words but had soon found a more acceptable companion to talk to; the girl’s mother had sniffed as she passed her on her way to socialise with Isobella. As for Carlos, he had been busy, naturally, moving from one group of guests to another, and Hydee could understand his not having much time for her, other than when making the initial introductions. Well, it was all over . . . until Christmas, when there would be another gathering, and this time the relatives would stay for several days. Another ordeal, but she felt sure that Gasper would be there again to help her through it.

  She undressed, showered, and wandered from the bathroom into the bedroom. She was just about to pick up her plain cotton nightgown and throw it over her head when, to her amazement, the communicating door opened and Carlos strode in. The angry scowl darkening his face told her instantly that he intended taking her to task over her familiarity with Gasper.

  He stopped abruptly, his expression undergoing a change as he saw her naked body. Burning colour flooded into Hydee’s cheeks as embarrassment enveloped her, but she could not move to get the nightgown. It was as if she just had to stand there, her hips slender, seductive, her breasts round and virginal above a tiny waist.

  ‘I’m sorry. . . .’ Carlos’ voice came at last, filtering the deep silence. ‘I thought you’d have been in bed. You said you were tired.’ Instead of leaving, he came farther into the room, and she did move then, grabbing the nightgown from the back of a chair and getting into it. His eyes watched her every move, and in that moment when he was staring so interestedly, she knew she was in love with him. ‘Go away!’ she cried. ‘Why did you come in here? You’ve no right!’

  He came close, and she stopped, and suddenly she was crying.

  ‘Hydee,’ he said, surprising her by his gentleness, ‘there’s no need to cry.’ Taking her hand, he led her to the bed and made her sit down. ‘Hydee, don’t cry like that,’ he commanded. ‘Stop it, I say!’ He sat down beside her, his strong arm coming about her, and she turned, surprised at his action.

  ‘I’m . . . s-sorry,’ she choked, lifting the hem of her nightgown to dry her eyes. ‘I suppose it was the . . . the ordeal of tonight.’

  ‘It was an ordeal?’ His voice tightened all at once. ‘You were happy enough with Gasper,’ he reminded her brusquely.

  ‘I needed him, and you must know it.’ Carlos avoided making a response to the implied question in her words.

  ‘You’re obviously unhappy,’ he observed. ‘You feel you made a mistake in marrying me?’

  Hydee lifted her head; sheer desolation encompassed her at the knowledge of her hopeless love, and in her misery she said, ‘Yes, I am beginning to think I made a mistake in marrying you.’

  ‘Already?’ He held her from him, his eyes troubled, yet not deeply so, and she wondered if she had been convincing. ‘Perhaps the dinner party wasn’t a good idea after all.’

  ‘They were all filled with contempt for me and they made no attempt to hide it,’ she cried. ‘I’m a nobody, but at least I was taught manners. Your family has none!’

  Carlos’s aristocratic face coloured.

  She guessed at his anger while at the same time sensing a reluctance to betray that anger at this time, when she was so distressed. And she recalled her assertion to Gasper that Carlos was kind to her. Yes, she had to admit that up till now he had been kind, giving her full rein with the children, never admonishing her or finding the least fault with her work. He had made her a generous allowance, had told her she must
say when she felt she needed a rest from the children. He reminded her that Caterina was quite . capable of looking after them temporarily, so there would be no problem if ever she wanted to do a little sightseeing. In any case, he had declared, she must certainly take a trip to Lisbon one day. He had made no mention of accompanying her, and she had not expected him to, but he certainly did not intend to put anything in the way of her having a little pleasure trip now and then.

  ‘The children are tiring and I know it,’ he had once said, ‘and, therefore, you must tell me whenever you feel like a rest.’

  His arm was about her, the strongly comforting scent of his maleness affecting her profoundly, and without thinking, she nestled close against his chest and her hand stole automatically to his shoulder. She thought he stiffened, but when she lifted her face, there was nothing in his expression to denote repugnance; on the contrary, his eyes were compassionate and there was a strange light in them that set her pulses racing in a way she could not understand. His voice was infinitely gentle when at length he spoke, and he drew her even closer, his hand almost tender on her hair.

  ‘You didn’t mean it just now when you said you were beginning to regret marrying me?’ he said, this time appearing to be a little troubled about it.

  ‘I don’t fit in here,’ she quavered, a sob in her voice which was the aftermath of tears.

  ‘You wouldn’t leave me?’—sharply, even more concern in his voice now.