The House of Adriano

by Nerina Hilliard

  Love was primitive, of course, and part of age-old nature. Like the rain, when it decided to come nothing could stop it. Physical attraction too was all part of the same thing, although that surely would not be so powerful as love itself, because physical attraction passed. Nevertheless, many people probably did mistake it for love and married, even then still being happy when the first hectic attraction had worn off. The classic example of love, of course, was the one single person one was destined for, but if fate arranged it that the two people concerned should be on opposite sides of the world with no chance of ever meeting, they would never know what they had missed and would probably be quite happy with second best, never knowing that it was second best. The human race had to continue, and not everyone could find the one single person destined for them, so, as Duarte had said, nature had arranged a substitute. No doubt it had happened like that with Marita and her fiancé. The marriage had been arranged, and because she had been brought up that way, Marita had acquiesced, then nature had started her insidious little war, playing on the latent attraction between a man and a woman - and how was anyone to judge really whether Marita and Juan might have found the substitute or love itself? Only they could know that.

  No doubt Duarte himself accepted that same attitude. He had been brought up to the same tradition and in time he would no doubt contract the usual marriage of convenience - or it might not be that any more. Alesandra was lovely enough for any man to love, even Duarte Adriano. She was the type of wife he should marry, so no doubt he felt very pleased with the way his life had arranged itself. He had not asked her yet - at least, it was not yet official - but presumably he would do so soon, and then there would be triumph in Alesandra’s lovely dark eyes. Everyone would be happy - all except Aileen Lawrence, who for some odd reason was beginning to feel that she would not be in the least happy about it.

  Alesandra was there, of course, darkly beautiful in a white dress and what were probably real diamonds. As always the dark girl’s manner was perfectly courteous and friendly, but once again Aileen was conscious of that hidden hostility.

  Did Alesandra really think Aileen constituted some sort of a threat to her? she wondered incredulously. Just because she had the idea that Dona Teresa might like the other girl more than the one Duarte seemed to have more or less chosen as his future wife? Surely she realised that, whatever Dona Teresa’s feelings in the matter, they would make no difference? The choice Was Duarte’s alone, and if he picked Alesandra - and it seemed obvious that he would - then that was the end of the matter.

  Whether it was the end of the matter or not, it was made quite clear to her later that evening that Alesandra did not intend to have her about the place after she married Duarte. As far as she was concerned, the sooner Peter Balgare settled into his new home the better. There would then be no reason for his former guardian to stay at Marindos.

  One of the rooms had been put aside for a ladies’ cloakroom, and shortly after dinner Aileen went there to freshen her makeup. At the time she entered the room was empty, but she had only been there for a few minutes when Alesandra came in. She seemed to hesitate in the doorway, then came forward with what was apparently a frank and friendly smile, but once again intuition told Aileen that the smile was very far from being frank and it certainly was not friendly underneath.

  “Ah, Senorita Lawrence. It is the first time we have met alone, is it not?”

  “Yes, I think it is,” Aileen answered cautiously.

  “Many times I have said that I must call, so that we may become better acquainted, but always my mother tells me there is some previous engagement that cannot be escaped. It is so restricting sometimes, this constant insistence on a chaperone. It is then that I envy the girls of your country who are allowed to act just as they please.”

  It was all perfectly pleasant and smiling, but somehow she managed to make it sound fairly reprehensible.

  “Yes, it must be frustrating for you sometimes,” Aileen agreed evenly. “But we aren’t allowed to do exactly as we please back home, you know. Even if we don’t have chaperones, we are expected to conform to certain conventions - and, in any event, one’s own self-respect would stop any ideas of living outside them.”

  “But of course.” Alesandra opened her eyes wide at that, innocently, as if she had never implied anything else, certainly not that the other girl, since she was allowed to go out unchaperoned, lived an extremely dubious sort of life. A sharp retort hovered on Aileen’s tongue - that perhaps they did not need chaperones because it was accepted that there was no need for it - but she would not allow herself to sink to Alesandra’s level of baiting.

  “You must find it very different here,” Alesandra went on, before she could make any reply. “And the little boy too.”

  “It is very different, of course,” Aileen agreed in the same even tone. “But I don’t think Peter is finding it quite so strange now.”

  “That does not mean that you will be returning to Australia? Not so soon, one hopes. There is much here that you have not yet seen, I am sure.”

  She sounded quite concerned that Aileen might be leaving soon, yet once again the other girl was conscious of that hidden insincerity. The sooner Aileen Lawrence departed for Australia the better it would suit Senorita Alesandra Pereira.

  “No, I hadn’t thought of returning just yet, although I shall have to work out my future plans fairly soon.”

  She had always known, of course, that it was a far from permanent arrangement, yet the very thought of leaving sent a cold chill right through her.

  “Yes, it is always best to have one’s future plans settled well in advance,” Alesandra agreed. “You would not want to be here when Duarte married - or at least I myself feel that I would not want to be an uncertain member of a household under those circumstances. It is always disturbing when a new mistress takes over a household. Many changes are made.”

  Aileen felt herself tense. If Alesandra had quite openly told her that she would not be wanted at Marindos when there was a new mistress there, the words could not have had a plainer meaning, yet she still had that sweetly pleasant and friendly smile on her lovely face.

  “Are you telling me that I should make my future plans fairly soon because I shall be asked to leave when Duarte marries?” she said bluntly, unable to keep the words from leaving her tongue. Whether she would be asked to leave or not, she felt that she could not in any case have continued to be a member of a household where Alesandra would be mistress, not that there had ever been any question of permanency in the arrangement. Her status was so undefined, a sort of companion to Peter until he settled in. In a way her life was just as undefined and uncertain.

  “But of course not, Senorita Lawrence,” Alesandra said with a quick and deprecatory movement of her hands. “I am only trying to give you some friendly advice. You are very attractive. Perhaps the woman who Duarte marries would not like to have such a one, who was not really a member of the family, living in the same household.” She shrugged. “Perhaps I am wrong. One never knows how these things work out, but some brides can be very odd.”

  “Shall we be quite open about the matter?” Aileen asked tersely. “As you will no doubt be Duarte’s wife, I take it that you are informing me that you would find it unnecessary for me to stay once Peter is quite settled.”

  Once again she could not help the words coming out. Perhaps she should have tried to counter Alesandra’s remarks more subtly, but she could not restrain herself.

  “But of course not.” Alesandra opened her dark eyes wide again, as if the very thought had not occurred to her. “It is not yet known whom Duarte will marry.”

  “But I think it’s more or less taken for granted that it will be you, isn’t it?” Aileen countered.

  “One can only hope,” Alesandra said wistfully. “But nothing is certain.”

  It would be certain if Senorita Alesandra Pereira had her way, Aileen thought grimly. She did not delude herself that Alesandra was frightened of her in
any personal way, a way that concerned Duarte. Dona Teresa’s remarks about not liking Alesandra had given her a clue to what she was sure was the real reason. Even though Alesandra would be the new mistress of Marindos, it was a well-known fact that the previous feminine head of the family - such as Dona Teresa was at present - usually made her presence felt. From all accounts Dona Luana had apparently gone on ruling the household whatever new brides were introduced into it. Alesandra probably knew that Dona Teresa would not be such a martinet as the other woman had been, but she seemed to be making sure that there would be no other young woman in the house, particularly one whom Dona Teresa seemed to favour. Had she been some sort of permanent governess or companion, Aileen thought it could have made the situation extremely awkward, but as it had only been temporary right from the beginning, it did not matter so much - in spite of the odd feelings that came to her when she thought of leaving.

  “I don’t think Duarte’s future wife need have anything to worry about there,” she said in an even, controlled tone. “I don’t like to be unsettled myself. My real home and my career are both in Australia.”

  “You must not misunderstand me, please,” Alesandra said quickly - Aileen was sure she had not misunderstood her in any case. “We were talking of somebody unknown to both of us, whose reactions perhaps cannot be predicted.” She achieved another wistful little smile. “If I should become Duarte’s wife, then everything would be all right. Myself, I like you. I would want you to stay with us for as long as you wished.”

  “Thank you, senorita,” Aileen replied. “May I say that I reciprocate your feelings,” and Alesandra could take that whichever way she chose.

  “Good. I had felt sure that we would be friends,” Alesandra said, with every appearance of delight, so much so that Aileen wondered for one moment whether she might have misjudged the girl, but a glimpse of something wary and hard in the dark eyes convinced her that she had made no mistake. Alesandra was warning her that she would not be wanted at Marindos when its new mistress took over, and Aileen Lawrence had better reconcile herself to that fact and make her plans accordingly.

  They went outside with every sign of friendliness. Aileen felt a thorough hypocrite for carrying on such a pretence, but there seemed nothing else to do when Alesandra was determined to hide her own antagonism and dislike under the same sort of pretence. In any case, it would be an impossible world if one did not make some attempt to hide one’s feelings, she decided.

  A little later the guests went out on to a terraced patio, with a sunken courtyard in the centre of it. On the terrace that surrounded it on all four sides were little tables and chairs, except for the fourth side, which seemed to have been cleared for some purpose - and that purpose was soon made clear. The fourth section of the terrace was swiftly filled up by a colourful band of people. They sat on the terrace steps, or leaned against the balustrade. A couple of chairs that had been left there were scorned. Three of the men, holding guitars, were fairly soberly dressed, but there were six women in long, flowing flamenco dresses, long ear-rings, and with flowers in the black hair.

  “Gipsy dancers,” Dona Teresa whispered, leaning slightly nearer to Aileen.

  “I thought they might be,” Aileen whispered back.

  All the guests had sorted themselves out along the three sides of the terrace, Aileen finding herself with Dona Teresa on one side of her and Duarte on the other side. Nearby, on the other side of Duarte, Alesandra sat with her parents, an exquisite little fan in her hand which she used every now and again with delicate old-world movements. One or two of the other women carried fans and Aileen was becoming aware how expertly handled they could be, how tantalising in the hand of a young and beautiful woman. Oh, no doubt about it, Alesandra knew how to attract men, especially a man of Duarte’s type. She had been bred for it and what had not been taught her came naturally. That latter was perhaps even more dangerous.

  Without any warning, the performance started, as if a singer had decided just at that moment that she felt like singing. At first it seemed harsh and discordant to Aileen, but she quickly became aware of something fascinating, some suggestion of wild, restrained passion, and, as the singer worked up and up to a climax, the feeling became more and more pronounced. The guitarist seemed to be gazing almost hypnotised at the singer, the sinuous fingers on the strings anticipating every nuance of emotion in the singer’s voice, until at last memory of all other music seemed to become lifeless and pale and faded.

  A girl started to dance ... taunting, tantalising. A young men leapt up from the steps, accepting the challenge. The sheer emotional impact of the scene was all the more pronounced somehow because of its suggestion of restraint. It was like a volcano erupting, yet somehow held at bay. All three guitars were being played now, madly, impassionedly, fingers snapped and castanets and tambourines added to the living emotionalism of it.

  Aileen felt her heart thudding uncontrollably and the wild flamenco music sent odd shivering thrills through her. She was so caught up in the tempest of emotion, so unaware of anything else that she did not know Duarte was watching her rather than the dancers.

  “It seems that at last something touches that cold heart of yours,” his voice remarked at her side.

  Aileen started and made a quick attempt to control her rioting emotions. His voice had been soft, almost a whisper, but it still had that trace of mocking amusement she always associated with him.

  “It is an interesting performance,” she replied almost primly, and heard him laugh with that same mocking softness.

  “Very interesting,” he agreed. “I think our gypsy music discloses that you are not quite so emotionally invulnerable as you would have us believe.”

  Emotionally invulnerable! He thought her emotionally invulnerable when every nerve in her body seemed to be singing as if they were those madly impassioned guitar strings, every sense was overwhelmingly alive - and not so much because of the music, but because of the nearness of one man.

  The dance finished in a wild flurry of movement, but the guitars and castanets still seemed to throb in her blood. Her heart was beating unevenly and too quickly. It was the sultry atmosphere, she told herself breathlessly. That was what was making her so overwhelmingly conscious of the man at her side. That was why she suddenly longed for him to touch her, to feel his fingers gripping her arms, to...

  She abruptly realised where her thoughts were leading and, aghast, tried to control them.

  It surely could not really have happened! Not to her - and for such a man. Not Duarte Adriano, whom she had once been so sure she disliked more than anyone she had ever met before.

  In a way, though, it explained so many things. The first instinctive antagonism on meeting him. Had it been her femininity rebelling against the secret knowledge that he was a man who would come to mean too much to her? If it had not been for Peter she might perhaps have realised it sooner, but her dislike of him because he was going to take Peter away from her might perhaps have obscured the real reason. Who should she have felt antagonism before she had even known his name? The moment those dark eyes had met and held hers?

  All the strange feeling that had been bothering her lately were explained too. It was so easy to see what had been causing them. He must never find out, though, not when he was going to marry Alesandra.

  No wonder they said love was blind. The little god must shut his eyes and shoot his arrows at random, not caring where they landed.

  In that moment she did not know whether to be glad or sorry that she had come to Spain. That old saying about better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all was all very well, but that did not stop the lost part of it hurting, and she realised instinctively that this was going to hurt very much. How could it be otherwise when she knew, when everyone knew and took it for granted, that he was going to marry Alesandra?

  CHAPTER IX

  The morning following the engagement party was another of those lazy ones. Aileen, however, was up fairly early as u
sual rousing Peter out of bed and getting him ready for his lessons. After her own Spanish lesson was finished, she left Peter with his head down and went to find Dona Teresa. This time the old lady was sitting in a wicker lounge chair on a small terrace that led down into the inner patio.

  She looked up with a smile as Aileen came through the open glass doors that backed the terrace.

  “Ah, such is youth - dancing and parties and yet so fresh in the morning!”

  Aileen laughed. “I haven’t really any excuse for not being fresh. I have so little to do ... and I spent all yesterday afternoon resting ready for the party.” She shook her head, her smile dying into a little frown. “I do wish there was more I could do.”

  “We have spoken of this before,” Dona Teresa said firmly. “You do quite enough. And now, what did you think of our engaged couple?” she asked, in change of subject.

  “They seem very happy.”

  Dona Teresa’s eyes twinkled. “That surprises you?”

  “Well ... not exactly.” She paused a little awkwardly. “I hadn’t expected them to be quite so happy, though.”

  “Because it was an arranged marriage?”

  “Well... yes, I suppose so.”

  Dona Teresa shrugged. “Two young people ... both attractive. Why should they not find happiness in each other?”

  In spite of her years in Ireland, it seemed she still held many predominantly latin ideas.