The House of Adriano

by Nerina Hilliard

"Your nephew said more or less the same thing,” Aileen admitted slowly.

  The dark eyes twinkled again. "Ah ... I suspected he was again teasing you last night.”

  Aileen considered privately that teasing was not exactly the right word to apply to it.

  “Sometimes I think it gives him amusement to tilt at this independence of yours,” Dona Teresa continued, and Aileen agreed with her wholeheartedly. “But I do not altogether believe this talk of a career being everything,” she went on, the twinkle even more pronounced. “I think you would like marriage as well as any other woman.” She chuckled unrepentantly. “You need not hesitate to admit it. I would not pass the information on to Duarte.”

  “Yes, I would like to get married,” Aileen admitted at last. She could never admit the name of the man she yearned to marry, though - the one man she could not possibly marry.

  “Then why this pretence of being against marriage?” Dona Teresa asked, appearing a little puzzled.

  Once again Aileen found herself explaining how the fallacy had come about. She did not think Dona Teresa would mind and would probably even see the funny side, which she did immediately, her face crinkling up into laughter. Unfortunately neither of them heard Duarte come through the open glass doors.

  “So? Now it is that we learn the truth.” His voice was slightly teasing, without a trace of anything mocking in it. “I had started to suspect that it might perhaps have been like that.”

  Aileen could not stop the flush rising to her cheeks. “I didn’t hear you come out,” she said somewhat confusedly.

  “Your pardon,” he said with a slight bow. “It is said that eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves, but sometimes they hear things that are also interesting.” Something just slightly jibing did hover around his mouth momentarily. “It is a relief to realise that even one who insists so emphatically on the importance of a career can still concede that marriage could be ultimately bearable.”

  “I still think that a career could make you far more happy than an unsuccessful marriage,” Aileen said a little defensively. “At least you have to agree there.”

  “Perhaps.” But his voice was quite enigmatic.

  “As for myself...” Now that her complete career-minded-ness had been exploded she intended to get things perfectly clear. “Perhaps I will marry ... perhaps I won’t.” She knew quite well that she would not, but that was something she could not admit, or she might have to give a reason for it - and that reason was one that she could not disclose, certainly not to Duarte himself. “If it doesn’t come my way, then I can still have my career,” she went on. “I don’t believe in marrying just for the sake of it. I can support myself...”

  “And be quite independent of any man,” he finished for her, the faintly mocking amusement coming into his voice. “What then would you consider to be the most important requisite for marriage?”

  “Love,” she said quite simply.

  Those dark eyebrows went up. “You surprise me. I thought that was considered to be a most overstated emotion - or is that another of the things that was ... misunderstood?” He paused, but before she could answer, he added almost musingly, “And what do you know of love, I wonder, my little one?”

  “I’ve ... heard plenty about it,” she answered a little disjointedly. “I’ll know if it ever arrives, I suppose.”

  Empty words. She knew about love now, but she knew more about its pain than any sweetness it possessed.

  “And you would welcome it - or otherwise?”

  “Both, I suppose.” That was true, at least. She did not regret falling in love in one way, even though she knew it was going to cause her even more pain than it had already. “It’s so unsettling ... at least that’s what I’ve been told.”

  Was she successfully keeping up her pretence of being a whole-hearted career girl who was quite content with her lot if and until love came into her life? She hoped she was. At least that left her with the final defence of pride.

  “And so very destructive to that sense of independence.” Again there was a thread of amusement in his voice, but the mockery was absent from it.

  “I think the type of man I would love would respect my sense of independence.”

  “So you think that one may love to order?”

  “Well ... not exactly. But if somebody was really ... incompatible ... wouldn’t it just be physical attraction and not love?”

  She felt that she was talking a lot of nonsense, because she knew quite well that one could fall in love with somebody who was completely incompatible, whether or not - and it was certainly not in her case - there could ever be marriage between, the two people concerned. However, much as it might appear nonsense in the light of her love for Duarte, at least it fitted the pretence of being heartwhole that she was concentrating on building up.

  “Not always,” he disagreed. “Incompatibles have been known to fall in love.”

  “Then in that case it would be wiser to put it out of your life rather than make what is likely to be an unhappy marriage.”

  “Gran cielo! It is easy to see that you know nothing of love.”

  Somehow she managed to control an involuntary wince at that, and Dona Teresa, who up until then had been silent, amusedly listening to the interchange, laughed softly.

  “Then that is something we must change.” She looked pensive. “Perhaps Senor Renfrew ... he is becoming most attentive.”

  Aileen coloured. “Bart’s only a friend,” she said hastily.

  “Then why that so very vivid blush?” Duarte asked, the mocking inflection in his voice most pronounced. “Perhaps we have mistaken the matter even more. Maybe it is Senor Renfrew who has changed your ideas about marriage.”

  “Of course not. It’s just that ... well, anybody is likely to blush when her name is coupled with a man’s like that.”

  “Then if not Senor Renfrew, maybe someone else,” Dona Teresa said thoughtfully. “Can you suggest someone, perhaps?” she appealed to Duarte with her impish smile. “I do not think that we should allow this so very pretty child to escape the bonds of matrimony.”

  Duarte, for some reason best known to himself, seemed to have become his most mocking at that moment.

  “You must give me time to think,” he said. “But do you imagine that she could accept our Spanish marriage? That sense of independence ...” He shook his dark head almost derisively. “No, I fear it would be too much for it.”

  “Perhaps.” Aileen attempted to shrug casually. “From choice I would rather a marriage where I was a companion to my husband, where we could talk seriously to each other, as well as ... as ...”

  “As well as make love?” he finished for her as she paused, that hint of derisive amusement still in his voice.

  “Yes.” Her answer this time was a little defiant. “I think I would want something more than just to be treated as some kind of living doll, to be petted and then put back in its box.”

  Empty words again. She knew she would have accepted anything if it brought her the man she loved - yet at the same time she could not quite forget Bart’s remarks about the little Italian girl who had married a man with backward ideas and then found her life unhappy even while she had the man she loved.

  It seemed that Duarte had those same sort of ideas, the traditional latin idea that a woman was only made to make love to, that marriage was her only goal in life. Even if some completely impossible miracle had happened and he had loved her, could they ever have found real happiness together? Would they have finished up like the Italian girl and her husband? In any case, it was something that did not need to be considered, because such a problem would never arise. At any time now Duarte would announce his engagement to Alesandra.

  She realised at that moment that he was watching her rather closely, but before he could say anything which she would have to counter with wary caution - if one of those uncomfortable remarks of his was on the thin, firm lips - Dona Teresa shrugged and remarked:

  “I know what you me
an, my child. I think that was why I never remarried, apart from that fact that I still loved my husband. My years in Ireland had bred in me a certain independence. I recognised many things wrong with the traditional Spanish marriage - from the viewpoint of a woman of new independence.”

  “It seems that I find rebellion in my own family,” Duarte remarked with a species of light raillery.

  “You are a man and would naturally not agree,” Dona Teresa retorted.

  He smiled and bowed slightly. “Naturally.” He glanced at Aileen and a faint trace of derision, felt rather than seen, came back to his expression. “It seems that it will have to be the American after all.”

  “Or the handsome life-saver in Australia,” Dona Teresa chuckled. “Is he as they are seen sometimes on the films, my child?” she asked, turning her mischievous glance on Aileen.

  In spite of herself Aileen felt hot colour rise to her face, because Paul was undoubtedly just that type of person, tall, bronzed and incredibly fit, as well as good-looking.

  Dona Teresa laughed again. “Ah, so he is. No wonder we cannot distract your attention. There you will no doubt find the kind of marriage you wish - love and independence. Is that not so?”

  “You forget - I have it on good authority, from the little Peter, that many times this - Paul, is it not?” The smooth, urbane voice with its attractive accent paused to query the name, then continued in the same tone, “This Paul has many times asked her to marry him and has been refused. It seems that the career still takes first place.”

  “Nonsense,” Dona Teresa retorted. “Perhaps she only needed time to make up her mind. Now we shall see.” She caught Aileen’s expression and suddenly laughed. “It surprises you that we discuss you so openly... but you must take it as a compliment. We wish to see you attain happiness. Is that not so?” with an upward glance at Duarte.

  The man’s dark face seemed to set in some odd manner. “Of course,” he agreed. Then he glanced at the watch strapped to one narrow, strong wrist. “And now you must excuse me. There are matters of business I have to attend to.”

  Dona Teresa chuckled again. “And perhaps while you are gone I shall find out whom she favours most as a husband - Senor Renfrew or this handsome life-saver who is called Paul.”

  “It would be interesting to know,” Duarte agreed, and with a little bow, a flicker of that faintly derisive smile in Aileen’s direction, he turned and left them.

  Aileen did not see him again for the rest of the day, but in the morning, just after she had left the schoolroom, she met him in one of the corridors as she went downstairs, intending to go out and sit in the shade of one of the trees in the patio.

  He looked so incredibly attractive, so well groomed, as he always did, that her heart turned over in helpless longing, but somehow she hid what the sight of him did to her.

  “Buenos dias,” he greeted her. “And how do the Spanish lessons proceed?”

  “Slowly ... but I’m told I’m steadily improving.”

  He nodded, turning to walk at her side, commenting lightly on innocuous matters, but as they entered one of the rooms that led on to the inner patio, he paused. Aileen stopped also, giving him a slightly enquiring glance.

  “You have not yet been out to the Escorial Palace?”

  “No.” She gave him a quick glance, wondering what was coming. “I’m told it’s well worth seeing though.”

  A faint glimmer of a smile showed in his eyes. “It is ... but perhaps we Spaniards are prejudiced. If you wish I will drive you out there.”

  For a moment she wondered if she had heard right and, since she did not reply immediately, he apparently took it to mean that she was reluctant to go there in his company. The dark face seemed to close up and lose all expression.

  “Do not hesitate to refuse if you would prefer another companion,” he said in an icily remote voice. “I quite understand your feelings. You voiced them very clearly that evening in Melbourne.”

  “I didn’t mean anything like that at all,” she denied quickly. “You took me by surprise, that’s all. I should love to go to the Escorial Palace.”

  Her hesitation had been caused by the fact of wondering whether she had heard right. Now all she could think of was to correct the erroneous impression he had received. When one was in love one snatched at every crumb, it seemed.

  “With me - or should I arrange for Senor Renfrew to be your escort?” There was something almost merciless in his regard. “There is no need to prevaricate. As I said - I shall quite understand. I am, after all, the most detestable creature you have ever met.”

  Aileen bit her lip, wondering how she could ever have said such a thing.

  “I’m sorry. I ... I didn’t really mean it. I was upset at the time.”

  “Perhaps, but when one is ... upset, the truth is usually spoken. There is no restraint.”

  “I suppose I did mean it at the time,” she admitted. “But since then...”

  “You may perhaps have changed your mind slightly?”

  Slightly!

  She gave him a quick glance, but his face was still as expressionless. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. She could not believe that her opinion could really mean anything to him. She was of no importance in his life. If anything, it was probably just the natural desire of any human being not to be disliked.

  “I should apologise for some of the things I said and ... and I have changed my mind.”

  “Thank you,” he said quietly. “That was hard to say, wasn’t it?”

  “Not really. Just a little awkward. And ... and I’ve realised for a long time that you could have stopped me having any further contact with Peter. You didn’t have to bring me out here.”

  The faint smile came back to his face at that. “So perhaps there may be an armistice now that matters are arranged to the satisfaction of both of us?”

  She glanced upwards and smiled almost shyly. “I think an armistice would be a good idea.” He was not to know, of course, that it had some time ago become a complete surrender on her part.

  A momentary silence fell and she found herself glancing at him unobtrusively, with the same hidden and hopeless yearning. The morning sunlight was shining through the window on to the thick black hair, drawing blue glints from it and shading the aquiline planes of his face. As always, she could not help dwelling on how attractive he was, not in any “matinee idol” sort of way, but something that came from those hawk like features, the firm mouth and brilliant dark eyes, skin drawn tautly over high cheekbones, and eyebrows that even had a slightly satanic curve to them. He looked far too attractive to be altogether safe to a woman’s peace of mind - especially her own peace of mind. No wonder Alesandra was so intent on becoming his wife, not only for the position but the man as well, no doubt.

  Suddenly he turned his head and looked at her fully, and she had to veil her regard quickly, but he seemed to have noticed nothing, smiling in a charming but, she was sure, quite impersonal manner.

  “Then you accept my invitation to El Escorial?”

  “Yes ... and thank you, senor.”

  He frowned as he glanced down at his watch. “It is almost time for lunch, and unfortunately I must go out immediately afterwards.” He glanced up, smiling again. “We shall have to arrange this expedition to El Escorial for another day, I am afraid.”

  Aileen thanked him again, and knew she would secretly count every minute until that time arrived.

  After lunch the house settled down to the traditional siesta through the hottest part of the day. Duarte, however, had gone out, as he had mentioned before lunch. She had wondered at one time what these business appointments were and where all his money came from, apart from the estates of which the Castillo Marindos formed part, but had not liked to enquire. After all, it was not really her business, but from one or two remarks dropped by Dona Teresa she had gained the impression that he was a member of a large and powerful business syndicate that took in many different trades.

  The rest of the
day passed in slow, warm tranquillity. Duarte was not home in the evening either - apparently he was dining at the Pereira house. In the morning Bart telephoned and asked her if she would like to go for a drive.

  “I’d love to - but do you mind if I bring Peter? The tutor is sick and there aren’t any lessons for the time being.”

  “Trying to cramp my style?” Then he laughed. “O.K., I was only joking. Bring him by all means. Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”

  “I’ll leave that to you. Duarte has promised to take me to El Escorial at some time or other. I don’t know the other worthwhile spots to visit, except maybe the Prado.”

  She did not notice that she had used Duarte’s Christian name so naturally and easily.

  Bart arrived about fifteen minutes later to pick them up. His manner with Peter was easy and unstrained, and once or twice Aileen caught the boy looking at him speculatively.

  “Are you a cowboy?” he asked at last, out of the blue.

  Bart grinned. “’Fraid not.”

  Peter looked a little puzzled. He was sitting on the front seat, between Aileen and the man.

  “You come from Texas, though,” as if that alone should have made Bart a cowboy.

  Bart admitted to owning a ranch and to spending some time on it, but said that he could not really lay claim to being a cowboy, adding that not everybody in Texas was a cowboy either. Peter seemed somewhat disappointed but brightened up when Bart described his ranch and the real cowboys who did work there.

  After they had been driving for a short time on a well-kept road they came to a little town, and Bart left the car in a shady plot of ground. Adjoining it was a vast building that looked almost ugly.

  He nodded towards it. “El Escorial.”

  Aileen looked startled. “That’s the Escorial Palace!” It did not seem possible that the bare, forbidding building should be the place everyone talked about, then suddenly another aspect of the matter struck her and she turned to him with an expression of dismay. “But I’d promised to come here with Duarte!”

  He shrugged, apparently quite unconcerned. “You can still come here with him if you feel like it. I didn’t know anything definite had been arranged. You said you wanted to see it and you might have waited any time before he decided to bring you out, so...” He finished off the sentence with a shrug.