Fallen Angel

by Anne Mather

  ‘Señor Goya,’ replied the older woman, concentrating on her task. ‘Mr Tarrant came home to take you riding. When he discovered you had gone, he was frantic. That was when Señora Vargas walked in.’

  ‘Jason was going to take me riding,’ echoed Alexandra faintly, closing her eyes against the images that evoked. ‘Oh, Miss Holland! If only I’d known. If only I’d known!’

  ‘Yes, well—’ Miss Holland pursed her lips as she pulled another swab of cotton wool from the roll. ‘You should know by now that Mr Tarrant goes to a lot of trouble on your account. It can’t be easy for him. I know that.’

  Alexandra licked her lips before taking her courage into her hands, and murmuring: ‘What would you say if I told you—I was in love with him?’

  There was silence for a few moments as Miss Holland sought for a tube of antiseptic ointment. Then, unwinding a sterilised bandage, she said: ‘I would say that I guessed something was going on.’ Her grey eyes were shrewd. ‘Have you slept with him?’

  Alexandra was flabbergasted. She had never expected the older woman to be so forthright. ‘I—no. No, I haven’t,’ she admitted. ‘He—thinks I’m too young.’

  ‘He could be right,’ remarked Miss Holland dryly, and then as Alexandra started to protest, she added: ‘So? What does he intend to do about it?’

  Alexandra hunched her shoulders. ‘He wants me to go back to England—for six months.’

  ‘Six months?’ Miss Holland raised her eyebrows. ‘An excellent suggestion, I should think.’

  ‘An excellent suggestion?’ cried Alexandra painfully. ‘It’s a terrible suggestion. He doesn’t think I’ll come back, that’s what it is. He thinks that once I get to London I’ll forget all about him.’

  ‘You might,’ said Miss Holland practically, applying the ointment to the bandage before winding it about her palm. But as the girl stared at her with tears in her eyes, she added: ‘Then again, you might not. I take it he feels the same way?’

  Alexandra hung her head. ‘I—don’t know.’

  ‘Oh, come on. You must.’

  ‘No.’ She sniffed. ‘He—he wants me, I know that. I think he needs me. But—love…’ She shrugged helplessly. ‘He’s never said he loved me.’

  Miss Holland nodded. ‘I see.’ She smoothed the bandage with expert care. ‘But you must remember, Alexandra, it’s harder for a man like him to admit to such a thing. I mean, he’s not a boy. I hope you realise that.’

  Alexandra’s lips quivered. ‘You sound so—experienced. Yet you’ve never married.’

  ‘No.’ Miss Holland applied herself to her task for a few taut minutes. Then she looked up. ‘What would you say if I told you that the reason I never married was because the man I loved already had a wife?’

  Alexandra gasped. ‘Is that true?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, yes.’ Miss Holland reached for a second bandage. ‘Like Mr Tarrant, he was a lot older than I was, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.’

  ‘Did he love you?’

  Miss Holland’s smile was rueful. ‘He said he did. And I think perhaps it was true, in a way. But he loved his reputation more.’

  ‘Lord Carleon?’ exclaimed Alexandra disbelievingly, and the faint colour that ran up Miss Holland’s face was enough. ‘Oh, Miss Holland! I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ Her companion was philosophical. ‘It was all over years ago. Charles is almost eighty now, much too old to entertain those kind of fancies.’

  ‘And did you—did you—’

  Alexandra found she couldn’t voice the words, but Miss Holland answered anyway. ‘Did we have an affair?’ she asked, and smiled. ‘I suppose really I shouldn’t tell you, should I?’ She paused, and then seeing the girl’s anxious face, she relented. ‘We had a relationship,’ she conceded. ‘I’m not saying it was anything like the relationship you are having with Mr Tarrant. I didn’t go around in skin-tight trousers or a shirt that exposed every curve of my bosom, but I did allow him to kiss me, and once we even went swimming together.’

  ‘Would you—would you have married him if you could?’

  ‘If he’d asked me,’ agreed Miss Holland, with a sigh.

  ‘Jason was married. He told me. But that was over a long time ago, too.’

  Miss Holland completed her task and surveyed her handiwork critically. ‘There, that should do,’ she said, and Alexandra looked down at her bandaged hands.

  ‘I look like a mummy,’ she protested, depression at the remembrance of Estelita waiting downstairs overtaking her again. Then: ‘What should I do?’

  ‘What can you do?’ retorted Miss Holland crisply. ‘Do as he says. Go to England. Spend the summer there. If you love him, you’ll come back, and if he loves you, he’ll be waiting for you.’

  ‘But what if he’s not?’

  Miss Holland shrugged. ‘Isn’t it better to know?’ she asked, and Alexandra had to concede that she was probably right.

  * * *

  Alexandra didn’t want any lunch, and spent the afternoon lying on her bed. She felt sick and disorientated, and even the news that Jason had gone to fetch the doctor from Puerto Novo to see her could not arouse her from her apathy.

  Miss Holland brought the doctor up in the late afternoon. He smiled when he saw his patient and said half impatiently: ‘If you do not care for yourself, señorita, perhaps you should care for the people who care for you. Señor Tarrant is most anxious about you. Did you lose a lot of blood?’

  Alexandra twisted restively on the bed. ‘Not a lot, no,’ she replied, resenting his reproving tones. ‘There was really no need for you to come, señor. Miss Holland has dealt with my injuries quite satisfactorily.’

  The smile he cast in Miss Holland’s direction was the tolerant one exchanged between adults when a child is being unnecessarily fractious. ‘Fortunately, Miss Holland understands the dangers of wounds of this kind,’ he remarked. ‘Tetanus is still an extremely dangerous disease, señorita. You would do well to remember that.’

  The injection that followed was not pleasant, and Alexandra was left feeling helplessly near to tears. What was Jason doing now? she wondered. Would she see him again today? Or was she doomed to suffer Estelita’s supercilious contempt while he drove the doctor back to Puerto Novo?

  She was loath to go down for supper, but a determination to show the housekeeper she was not completely helpless made her bath and change into black culottes and a loose-fitting smock of black lace. She had never worn the outfit before, always secretly considering it too old for her, but tonight she felt she needed some defence.

  However, when she came down the stairs, she found Jason standing in the hall. He was staring out into the blackness beyond the door, hands folded behind his back, and with a fast-beating heart she went to slide her bandaged palm into his.

  Immediately he swung round, staring down at her intently, encasing her hands within the cool strength of his. ‘Well?’ he said, and there was more than anxiety about her health in his query. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Sore,’ she answered at once, looking down at their hands entwined together. ‘How about you?’

  He didn’t answer that, but asked instead: ‘Was Miss Holland very angry?’

  ‘She was more concerned with what you had said to her,’ replied Alexandra unsteadily. ‘I—I—you didn’t tell me that Estelita was coming back today.’

  ‘I was going to tell you this morning,’ he answered. ‘Did Miss Holland not tell you that I came back to take you riding myself?’

  ‘Yes.’ She darted a look up at him. ‘I’m sorry, Jason. Oh, I always seem to be saying that to you.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ he agreed. Then: ‘Your hands—they’re going to be all right?’

  ‘Of course. They’re not seriously injured,’ she exclaimed, half impatiently. ‘Jason—about going to England?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He released her hands then, thrusting his into his pockets, exposing the bulging muscles of his thighs. For a moment she gave he
rself the pleasure of just looking at him, and then his darkening expression forced her to go on.

  ‘If—if that’s what you really want me to do,’ she got out jerkily, ‘I—I’ll do it.’

  ‘I see.’ There was a pregnant silence, and then he added curtly: ‘Do I have Miss Holland to thank for this?’

  It was almost as if he was disappointed with her submission. Alexandra stared up at him bewilderedly, trying to read the dark nuances of his expression, and then a voice she knew she would never be able to forget said silkily:

  ‘Ah, the señorita is feeling better, no? How good it is to see you recovered, Miss Durham. I should not have liked you to miss supper on my first night home.’

  They ate one of Estelita’s meals—a stew of meat and vegetables, flavoured in the way she liked it. No mention was made of the scouring and cleaning which had gone on in her absence, and with a pang Alexandra realised that in the space of a day things had returned to normal. Except that Pepe was not with them. He had remained behind in Valvedra, with his mother, and would not be returning.

  After Miss Holland’s cooking, Estelita’s left much to be desired, and Alexandra pretended it was this which closed her throat and left her feeling sick and miserable. But the truth was that the thought of leaving Jason was like a cancer inside her, eating away her emotions and leaving her weak and vulnerable. How could she contemplate six whole months without seeing him, without speaking to him, without being near him? It was an agonising prospect, and one which drove her constantly to seek his face, to imprint every angle of his features on her subconscious mind, so that when she looked away she could still see him.

  Jason looked at her, too. She was not unaware of that, and when their eyes met, her stomach twisted with a feeling, half pain, half ecstasy. Then Estelita spoke, and when he turned to look at her Alexandra could have scratched her eyes out. Would Estelita still be here if she came back at the end of the year? she wondered despairingly. And if she was, what then?

  When supper was over, Ricardo asked if he could speak to his employer, and with some reluctance Jason went with the foreman, leaving Alexandra alone with Estelita. Miss Holland had already gone into the salón to set out the chess pieces for later, and Alexandra was pushing back her chair, preparatory to leaving the table, when Estelita pulled a letter out of her blouse and threw it across to her.

  ‘Here,’ she said. ‘I collected Jason’s mail before leaving Valvedra. I thought this one might be of some interest to you.’

  ‘To me?’ Alexandra turned the parchment envelope over in her fingers. ‘Why should it—oh!’

  She broke off abruptly as she recognised the small neat handwriting, but its precise quality was unmistakable, as was the plain convent envelope.

  ‘I see you know where this letter comes from,’ observed Estelita slyly. ‘Perhaps you wonder why the convent at Sainte Sœur should be writing to your guardian, no?’

  Alexandra frowned. ‘How do you know where it’s from?’ she exclaimed. ‘The letter’s addressed to Jason, and it’s sealed. You—you opened it!’

  ‘You should be thankful that I did, señorita,’ retorted Estelita coldly. ‘For I know what is inside it, and I am sure Jason would be very interested to hear that your father wanted you to return to the convent when he died.’

  Alexandra blanched. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, señorita, that the good sisters at the convent know nothing of any plans to put you in Jason’s care.’

  Forcing herself to remain calm, Alexandra defended herself. ‘Why should they?’ she countered. ‘They were not involved—’

  ‘Oh, but they were, señorita.’ Estelita’s face had taken on the grotesque quality of a mask. ‘You see, your father telephoned the good sisters only two days—two days—before he died, telling them of his wishes, advising them that his solicitors would be in touch with them.’

  Alexandra was trembling now, but she dared not let Estelita see how shocked she was. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said jerkily. ‘Why should I believe you?’

  ‘Why should I lie?’ retorted Estelita contemptuously. ‘Open the letter for yourself. See what is written in it.’

  Alexandra shook her head, turning the envelope over in her fingers. ‘It’s addressed to Jason.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Estelita nodded. ‘And can you imagine what his reactions will be when he reads it? When he learns that you tricked him. Oh, yes, señorita, I have had time to work it all out. You wrote the letter to the solicitors which purported to have come from your father. You made Jason your guardian. Why, I wonder? You had never met him. Were you so desperate for a man, señorita?’

  Alexandra’s chair thudded on to the floor behind her as she sprang to her feet. ‘Don’t you dare say such a thing to me!’ she declared tremulously. ‘You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t understand in a million years!’

  Estelita sneered, ‘You think Jason will?’

  Alexandra trembled. ‘I don’t know…’ She said the words almost inaudibly, as much to herself as anyone else.

  ‘Then I will tell you, he won’t!’ declared Estelita coldly. ‘No man likes to be made a fool of, particularly by a slip of a girl young enough to be his daughter!’

  Alexandra put a hand to her head. It was swimming, and she wondered if the antibiotic the doctor had given her was responsible for her dizziness. Or perhaps it was because she had had nothing to eat all day. Whatever, she felt sick and confused, and Estelita was only voicing what she had feared all along.

  ‘Why—why did you show me this letter?’ Alexandra asked now, supporting herself against the table. ‘Why haven’t you given it to Jason?’

  Estelita rose now. ‘I had my reasons.’ She placed the palms of her hands squarely on the table. ‘I want you to leave here, señorita. And I do not care what methods I have to use to achieve that objective.’

  ‘I don’t—understand—’

  ‘I will explain.’ Estelita was very much the mistress of the situation at that moment. ‘As I have said, Jason would not like to think you had made a fool of him. Can you imagine how he would feel if the men—the gauchos—learned that you had tricked your way into his house? He would be—how do you say?—a laughing stock, no? Do you think he would like that?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘No. So I think to myself, there is no reason why he should see the letter, why anyone should see the letter, but our two selves. If you agree to leave without fuss, I will destroy it, and you can explain the situation to the nuns after you have returned to England.’

  ‘You mean—you’re blackmailing me?’ Alexandra had to get this straight. ‘If—if I don’t agree to leave, you’ll make this letter public?’ She caught her breath on a sob. ‘Aren’t you afraid of what Jason will say when he learns you’ve been reading his mail?’

  Estelita shrugged. ‘So—he is angry! So what? He needs me here. He is not likely to dismiss me because of a little thing like that, is he?’

  Alexandra pressed her lips together to hide their trembling. ‘What—what if Jason won’t let me go?’

  Estelita’s mouth thinned to an ugly red line. ‘I saw the blood on his clothes today, señorita. I know what you have been trying to do while I have been away. But I also know what you said to him in the hall before supper, and I do not think he will stand in your way.’

  Alexandra pressed a hand to her stomach. ‘You think you have all the answers, don’t you? But—but what will you do if I come back?’

  ‘My—husband and I will always welcome guests into our home,’ retorted Estelita mockingly, and Alexandra gasped. ‘Oh, yes, he will marry me, señorita,’ she added. ‘Even if I have to become pregnant to force his hand.’ Her lips curved sensuously. ‘He is so careless about these things, you know. He relies on me entirely. You understand?’

  Alexandra understood. She understood only too well, and the knowledge almost robbed her of the strength to leave the room. But somehow she had to get away—away from Estelita, away from San Gabriel, and most
important of all, away from Jason…

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE furnished house Miss Holland had leased was in a fashionably attractive square in Belgravia. Tall and narrow, its Georgian façade stretching skywards, it was more grand than anything Alexandra had expected, but her companion had told her that Jason had insisted on their being comfortable. Area steps to the side of the door led down to a basement flat occupied by the housekeeper and her husband, and Mrs Beesley, as the housekeeper was called, kept everywhere in spotless order. The house was really too big for two women living alone, but Miss Holland said that flats were soulless places, and she at least appreciated its luxury.

  Alexandra showed little interest in her surroundings. She had shown little interest in anything since their departure from South America, and spent most of that first week with her face buried in a book. There was a comprehensive library at the house in Mountsey Square, and in those early days she spent most of her time there, despite Miss Holland’s admonitions to get out into the watery spring sunlight.

  Since that terrible scene with Estelita, she had had plenty of time to think, and her thoughts were not pleasant. Too often she was brought back to the conclusion that Jason’s prime objective in persuading her to leave was because of the housekeeper. He had been attracted to her, it was true, and during Estelita’s absence his natural appetites had not been appeased. That was why he had turned to her, why she had found it easier to arouse him. But once he knew Estelita was coming back, he had realised he could not satisfy two women without one of them becoming jealous. That was when he had decided that Alexandra must leave. All that talk about his not being able to keep her feeling as he did, his protestations of wanting only the best for her, and the need for her to get things into perspective, had all been a blind, a clever ruse to persuade her to do what he wanted. He had known that once he got her out of the valley, she would not return uninvited, and in the meantime, Estelita had her own plans for the master of San Gabriel.

  Things had moved quickly once Alexandra had agreed to go. She was never quite sure who arranged that they should leave at the end of that week, but Jason seemed curiously indifferent to the whole situation. It was Estelita who relayed that a flight had been booked for them on the Friday morning, and it was arranged that Ricardo should drive them to Valvedra.