by Anne Mather
Luis released Emilia's hand, and the little girl ran a little way ahead of them, stopping every now and then to allow them to catch up. Luis walked with Caroline, the movement of his robes causing a faint draught against her bare legs. He seemed taller, more alien than she remembered, but just as disturbing to her emotional condition.
'You realise I do not believe you,' he remarked, in an undertone, his voice low and disruptive. 'You could not simply have become separated. And what is more, Tomas had instructions not to let you out of the car.'
Caroline gasped. 'How do you know that?'
Luis shook his head impatiently. 'It is always so, when Emilia leaves the hacienda. Unless Tomas or one of us is with her.'
'I was with her,' pointed out Caroline tautly, but Luis dismissed her presence with a wave of his hand.
'You are no bodyguard, seňorita.' He made a sound of contempt. 'You cannot even take care of yourself.'
Caroline glanced up at him resentfully. 'Anyone can get lost.'
'Not in a strange town, where they do not understand the language.' His fists clenched. 'Do you know what could have happened to you if Enriques had not happened along?'
Caroline knew, but she would not admit it. 'I can take care of myself, seňor!' she asserted firmly. 'Just because—'
'Just because—nothing!' he snapped. 'You were— are—exhausted! You would have stood no chance at all if some man had taken it into his head to accost you.' He raised his eyes heavenward. 'At least accept the truth for what it is. Dios mio, I died a thousand deaths when Emilia arrived at the seminary and told me she had lost you.'
'Emilia did not lose me!' retorted Caroline sharply, then averted her eyes from his accusing stare. 'In any case, I can't believe you were so concerned about me.'
'Can you not?' His fingers tortured the knot of his belt. 'Not even when I tell you I left the seminary without permission?'
Caroline's lips parted. 'Oh, Luis! Luis, I'm sorry. But don't be angry with me, please. I don't think I can stand it.'
She heard his sudden intake of breath, and the shuddering exhalation that followed it. But when he spoke, his voices was low and tormented. 'Why did you come to Mariposa?' he demanded. 'Why did you have to torture me like this? Have you any idea how hard it is for me, living here, knowing you are in Esteban's house?'
Caroline turned her head to stare disbelievingly at him. 'But—your faith—'
'Oh, yes, my faith,' he echoed harshly. 'That is all-important, is it not? Unfortunately, I do not have such faith in my brother!'
Caroline sighed. 'Esteban told me where you were. He—he suggested this outing.'
'He would,' affirmed Luis grimly. 'It pleases him to manipulate people. I just wish to God that you were anywhere else than at the hacienda. I do not trust him.'
Caroline frowned, and then assuring herself that Emilia was out of earshot, she said: 'What do you mean? Why don't you trust him?'
'You,' said Luis flatly, causing a prickle of apprehension to feather along her veins. 'I do not trust his reasons for bringing you here.'
'Me?' Caroline shook her head. 'But Seňora Garcia employed me—'
'Did she?' Luis sounded unconvinced. 'I wonder.'
'What do you mean?'
'Caroline,' he spoke her name huskily, and her legs felt suddenly weak, 'Esteban has been looking for a so-called governess for Emilia for almost a year. The interviews you attended were not the first. There have been many more, both in England and the United States.'
'But—' Caroline was confused, 'I thought—'
'Seňora Garcia may have interviewed you, but ultimately, Esteban had to make the decision.' He frowned. 'Tell me, was there anything unusual about your interview? Did you have to supply any photographs or anything?'
'No.' Caroline tried to think. 'At least, not proper photographs. Seňora Garcia did say I ought to get a strip of photographs taken for a visa, but later on—'
'—you didn't need them?'
'No.'
'So what happened to them?'
'I don't know. Seňora Garcia kept them, I suppose.'
Luis nodded. 'They were sent to Esteban.'
'How do you know?'
'They had to be.' He expelled his breath heavily. 'It was no accident that you turned out to be so—attractive.'
Caroline made a helpless gesture. 'But why should it matter to him what I looked like?'
'I think you know the answer to that.'
Caroline trembled. 'That's ridiculous!'
'Is it?' Luis gazed broodingly out to sea. 'I wish I could be so sure.'
Caroline touched his sleeve, then drew her fingers away as if it burned her as his moody eyes were turned on her. 'Luis, why don't you come back to San Luis? Why can't you find another vocation? Esteban could employ you on the estate, I know he could. Luis—please—'
'I cannot,' he said tautly, and her spirits plummeted. 'You do not understand, and I do not have time to explain it to you.'
'Find the time,' implored Caroline urgently, as they neared the noisy market square, and she glimpsed Tomas standing by the Bugatti. 'Luis, talk to me. Talk to me, please. You must. You must!'
'I cannot,' he repeated harshly, and her shoulders sagged as Emilia came to possess herself of her uncle's hand once more.
'You will not let Tomas be angry with us, will you, Tio Vincente?' she begged, and her uncle looked down at her resignedly.
'Why should Tomas be angry with you, pequeňa?' he enquired dryly. 'Unless you disobeyed his instructions. Did you do that, Emilia? Did you lead Miss Leyton into danger?'
Emilia hunched her shoulders. 'Miss Leyton heard what Tomas said,' she said sulkily, but Luis would not allow that.
'Miss Leyton does not understand our language, Emilia,' he reminded her severely, and then allowed her to clamber inelegantly into the vehicle, while he spoke to the chauffeur in his own language.
Tomas was so relieved to see them, he could only gabble effusively, shaking Luis's hand, and evidently thanking him for restoring his two charges to him. Then Luis turned to Caroline.
'So,' he said, and his voice was unusually thick as he made his formal farewell. 'Look after yourself, seňorita. And you too, Emilia. I expect you to take care of Miss Leyton on these occasions. And if you promise to do so, I will forgive you.'
Emilia's pale face lost its dejected expression, and bouncing forward on the seat, she leaned out to wrap her arms around Luis's neck. 'Te amo,' she whispered, hugging him close, and over Emilia's shoulder Caroline saw Luis repeat the child's words.
'Tomas has agreed that he will say nothing of this to Don Esteban,' Luis added, as he put Emilia firmly back into her seat. 'It will serve no useful purpose, and I think Emilia has had enough excitement for one day.'
Caroline nodded, too numb at the prospect of his imminent departure to care one way or the other, and with a stiff nod, he stepped back. 'Vaya con Dios!'
Caroline bent her head as the Bugatti pulled away, but Emilia turned and waved until her uncle was out of sight. Then she slithered round in her seat and looked half curiously at her governess.
'Didn't you like seeing Tio Vincente again?' she demanded. 'I told you I knew where he was.'
'Yes.' Caroline was finding it hard to say anything. 'But you shouldn't have run away.'
'Well…' Emilia shrugged indifferently, 'you were so horrible to me, I wanted to give you a fright.'
'Which you did,' confirmed Caroline tremulously. 'Anyway,' she smoothed the skirt of her dress, 'I suggest we forget all about it now. So far as your father is concerned, we had a pleasant outing, and we didn't meet anyone.'
Emilia bent her head. 'Tio Vincente really likes you, doesn't he?' she persisted, causing Caroline's nails to dig into her palms. 'He was really upset when I told him I didn't know where you were.'
'Emilia, stop it!' Caroline's nerves were almost at screaming pitch. 'Let's drop the subject. I never want to see your uncle again.'
Emilia's speculative gaze said she didn't believe he
r, and Caroline couldn't altogether blame her. She knew she must look as sick as she felt. But she could not allow Esteban to suspect that anything was wrong, especially after what Luis had told her. It would be easier if she went home, she thought, crushing the sense of despair that filled her at this admission. To go on hoping was just a foolish whim, and the longer Luis was at Mariposa, the more remote her dreams became. Better to go, to make a clean break when her month was up, to sever for ever any chance of meeting him again.
She refused to consider the possibility that Esteban might not let her go. How could he stop her? she asked herself reasonably. She was a free woman, a British citizen; any coercion on his part would not be tolerated.
And yet, when she arrived back at the hacienda, the first place she looked was the library. Leaving Emilia to regale her father and Doňa Isabel with the details of their outing, she entered the booklined room in search of the butterfly she had left imprisoned.
She did not have to look far. Someone, she had no way of proving who, had pierced a hole in the plastic bag, allowing all the air to escape. The butterfly was dead, its wings spread in its final battle for survival.
CHAPTER NINE
It was foolish to let the death of a butterfly upset her, but it did, and she could hardly bring herself to go downstairs again and face her employer. She had fled to her room after finding the pathetic corpse still lying in its plastic shroud, and even after washing her face and brushing her hair, she was still in a state of shocked bemusement.
She knew that seeing Luis like that was the real agony, but nothing could alter the fact that she had been responsible for the butterfly's cruel demise. It was the manner of its death that troubled her most. If someone had crushed the insect, or trampled it to death, she might have understood. But to cold-bloodedly rob a living creature of air, so that every panic-stricken beat of its wings decreased its chances of survival, was the essence of a very subtle kind of cruelty.
Of course, she acknowledged, viewing her pale face in the mirror without satisfaction, she could be wrong. Esteban might have had nothing to do with it. There might, conceivably, have been a hole in the bag before they left. But none of these possibilities convinced her, and she went down to lunch feeling sick and uneasy, and just a little frightened.
But as if the morning had never been, Esteban was the soul of consideration and politeness. Assisting Caroline into her chair at the glass-topped table laid on the terrace, overlooking the pool with the stone jaguar, he set an iced fruit juice in front of her, then proceeded to discuss her outing with a geniality that quite disarmed her.
'Emilia tells me you did not have time to go to the beach, seňorita,' he remarked, helping himself from the tray of canapés placed beside him, and Caroline acknowledged the conspiratorial look the little girl cast in her direction. 'But you did see the market at Mariposa, and the harbour, so perhaps you can go to the beach another day.'
'Perhaps,' agreed Caroline noncommittally, sipping the freshly-squeezed orange juice. 'But I really think Emilia learns more from lessons than outings, seňor. And I'm sure you want her to achieve the best qualifications possible.'
Esteban smiled, his thick lips greasy from the meat oozing from the rolled banana leaf he just put into his mouth. 'I am sure we are all satisfied with your progress, seňorita,' he responded, licking his fingers. 'I have never known my daughter enjoy her lessons so much.'
'You're very kind.' Caroline forced a faint smile, but the conversation was not going at all the way she had intended. 'However,' she added carefully, 'it has to be said that Emilia might benefit more from a more formal education, seňor.'
Fortunately, Emilia had gone to feed the fish and was not listening to their conversation, but Doňa Isabel had heard her words, and now she said: 'You see, Esteban. Seňorita Leyton's ideas are—radical. I said as much before, if you remember?'
Esteban shook his head, ignoring the old lady. 'Emilia will not be going to university, as you did, seňorita,' he told Caroline pleasantly. 'Therefore there is no need for a more—formal education.'
Caroline took a deep breath. 'Nevertheless, I wonder if you realise how lonely your daughter is, seňor? I mean, she has no playmates, no one of her own age to associate with at all. Don't you think she might benefit from the friendship of children of her own age?'
Esteban raised his wine glass to his lips, studied her across its rim for a moment, then set it down again. 'But this is amusing, seňorita,' he exclaimed, and gave a short laugh, as if to prove it. 'Anyone would think you wanted to be dismissed!' He moved his shoulders expressively. 'Seňorita, I am quite satisfied with the method of Emilia's education, and if you are so worried about her—isolation from children of her own age, then I am prepared to make a further concession.'
'You are?' Caroline spoke faintly.
'But of course.' Esteban frowned. 'The Calveiros—you remember the Calveiros? Their eldest daughter is married and lives only a few miles from Las Estadas. She has two children nearing Emilia's age, a boy and a girl. I suggest I invite them to share lessons with Emilia, if you have no objections, and afterwards there will be time for play before they have to go home.'
Caroline felt weak. 'I—I have no objections, seňor. If— if that's what you want—'
'It is what I want, seňorita,' Esteban assured her firmly, and for the moment there was nothing more Caroline could say.
He was as good as his word. The following week Victor and Juanita Alvarez joined Caroline's morning classes, and in the effort required to bring them up to Emilia's standard, Caroline had little time to worry about her own difficulties.
Victor was older than Emilia, but at ten, he did not have her grasp of languages. Juanita was the same age, but was quite backward in both writing and reading, and Caroline spent hours teaching her how to do the simplest kind of arithmetic.
Still, she acknowledged, it was good for Emilia. Because of her advanced abilities, she was able to help Caroline with Juanita, and her own superiority increased her confidence a hundredfold. She and Victor almost came to blows half a dozen times during that first week, but gradually they all settled down.
It was revealed that their mother had been teaching them up to this point, but that in six months' time Victor was to go to the convent school in Merida. Juanita would join him there, when she was older, and Caroline wished Esteban would let Emilia go there, too. But he seemed determined to keep Emilia at home, and Caroline shrank from broaching the subject of her departure.
There were no more outings to Mariposa, but one evening Esteban suggested Caroline might like to join him for a ride the following morning. 'Not on horseback, you understand,' he said, as she was struggling to find some reason to refuse, 'I do not like horses, but in an open carriage I use to drive about the estate.'
'But—the children—' began Caroline doubtfully.
'Their lessons—'
'We will be back before it is time for lessons,' retorted Esteban shortly, and she decided it would be easier to give in.
The next morning, however, she regretted her submission. The idea of sharing with Esteban something she had previously only shared with Luis filled her with reluctance, and the lowering skies above them seemed to emphasise her inhibitions.
The trap, for it was little more, awaited them at the stables, with the mare Caroline had ridden tethered between the shafts. Old Benito gave Caroline a dubious look as she climbed into the carriage beside her employer, but he refrained from commenting, aside from a muffled grunt in answer to Esteban's greeting. It was obvious that he, like Gomez, saved his affection for Luis, and she couldn't help wondering why their father had not divided the estate between his sons. It seemed so unfair that one should have all and the other nothing, but perhaps the law of primogeniture prevailed.
In spite of her apprehensions, it was good to be out on the pampas again, though she still viewed the cattle with some unease. Riding in the carriage was not like being on horseback, and although that had scared her too, she had known
she could outrun them if she had to.
However, Esteban showed no such misgivings. On the contrary, he drove through the herd without hesitation, and stopped to speak to the drovers before driving on.
His destination was a knoll overlooking the swirling waters of the river, and after securing the reins, he suggested they got down and walked for a while. 'The ground may be spongy, but you're wearing boots,' he observed when Caroline hung back, and with a fatalistic feeling Caroline accepted his hand.
He did not release her fingers, however, after she was safely on the turf beside him, and after a moment's futile effort, she had to voice her objection. 'Please—let me go, seňor,' she begged him stiffly, and when he still did not do so, she added: 'Really, I'm quite capable of walking by myself.'
'I am sure you are, seňorita,' he remarked, raising her resisting fingers to his lips. 'But I enjoy helping you, and I shouldn't like you to run away.'
'There's no likelihood of that here, is there?' Caroline exclaimed, annoyed at the sudden tremor in her voice. 'Please, seňor, you're upsetting me. Have—have the goodness to release my hand.'
'Very well.' Esteban obediently let her go, and she immediately pushed her hands into the pockets of the short leather jacket she had put on over dark green corded trousers. She was hardly surprised to find her palms were moist, or that the back of her neck felt damp, but her relief was so great she could dismiss these other symptoms of her apprehension.
They walked a short way, Caroline a few steps behind her employer, then Esteban stopped again and turned to her. There was the lick of rain in the air, a heaviness evident in the ominous-looking clouds on the horizon, and she thought for a moment he was going to suggest they turn back. But instead of this, he faced her, squarely across her path, and as she faltered in hesitation he said:
'I suppose you are aware that in a few days your probationary month with us will be up?'