by Anne Hampson
‘You did it very good, Mummy, but Dom Manoel helped you, didn’t he?’
‘Nothing of the kind. Your mummy learnt all by herself.’
‘I saw you helping her.’ Glee looked at him accusingly. ‘You put your foot out, sideways, and told Mummy to do the same.’
‘Perhaps you’re right.’ He stood by the couch, his dark eyes travelling from Glee to Joanne and back again. ‘How alike you are,’ he murmured, almost to himself. Joanne blushed, feeling ashamed of her deceit and wondering what Dom Manoel would say were he ever to make the discovery that Glee was not her daughter.
Dona Rosa was also looking from one to the other, an ugly line curving her mouth; and then her gaze wandered to Joanne’s hand and her attention became fixed on the wedding ring she wore. What was she thinking? Joanne frowned suddenly and a prickly feeling passed along her spine. It was ridiculous, but she felt a fear of this girl, had the firm conviction that she would harm her if she could.
The music started up again, and Dona Rosa transferred her gaze to Dom Manoel, clearly inviting him to dance with her, even though she still appeared to be bored with the whole affair. Whether or not Dom Manoel would have complied with the unspoken request Joanne never knew, for Glee chose that moment to yawn, and Dom Manoel gave a firm and decisive nod of his head.
‘Right, young lady. Upstairs you go.’
‘Oh, but I’m not tired.’ Protestingly she looked at him. Glee was no respecter of positions, and although Dom Manoel was looking rather sternly at her she went on to add, ‘I want to stay till the end.’
‘You’re going to bed now.’
Glee shook her head and leant back against the cushions, watching the dancers.
‘What an undisciplined child!’ exclaimed Rosa, glancing at her with acute dislike. ‘Does Glee always argue in this way, Mrs. Barrie?’
Joanne coloured. It was not like Glee to be disobedient, but Joanne could understand her reluctance to leave when the other children were enjoying themselves.
‘You’re not used to children, Dona Rosa,’ she said, speaking her thoughts aloud. ‘It’s natural that Glee should want to stay.’
‘Natural that she should defy authority.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not that I don’t understand children, Mrs. Barrie. It’s the method by which you’re bringing your child up that I fail to understand.’
Too impatient to comment on that, Joanne gave her attention to Glee.
‘Come, darling, you must do as Dom Manoel says.’ She caught his expression as he glanced at Rosa. His eyes were hard and arrogant, his jaw flexed.
Glee made to get off the couch, but changed her mind and looked coaxingly up at Dom Manoel.
‘Please can I stay for a little while longer?’ Her thick dark lashes fluttered; she would know just how to manage the men when she grew older, her grandmother had once said, and to Joanne’s amazement she now appeared to be affecting Dom Manoel in some strange way, for his whole demeanour changed and he actually smiled as he said,
‘Ten minutes, then—and only ten minutes, because you’re already nearly asleep.’
A gasp escaped Rosa, and an unfathomable light entered her eyes. Presently she looked at Dom Manoel, again inviting him to dance, but the music stopped and everyone sat down while sweets were handed round to the children. Glee tried valiantly to keep awake, but even before the ten minutes had elapsed she was dozing against the cushions. Dom Manoel rose and picked her up. She opened her eyes, then nestled her head against his shoulder.
‘My present. Mummy, it’s behind the cushion.’ She stretched out an arm.
Each child had received a gift, and Glee’s was a charming little handbag in bright red leather. Taking it from behind the cushion, Joanne handed it to her.
‘Manoel ... surely you’re not carrying the child up yourself?’ The question came sharply from Rosa, who was clearly seething by this time. In all fairness Joanne had to sympathize with her, for Dom Manoel had not so much as spoken to her from the moment she joined them. And he should have danced with her, thought Joanne, wondering if they’d had a quarrel.
‘Does she look able to walk up?’ he inquired, and Joanne caught her breath at the sudden arrogance in his voice. They must have quarrelled, she concluded, and much as she disliked the girl she felt a certain disappointment at the way in which Dom Manoel treated her. He was punishing her for something, and the method he adopted caused him to fall in Joanne’s estimation. Such petty spite denoted a weakness which was totally out of character.
Blushing angrily, Rosa stiffened and fell silent.
‘Say good night.’ Dom Manoel nodded to Diego and the old man held up a hand for silence. ‘Glee is tired, children, and wants to bid you good night.’ Dom Manoel then repeated that in his own language; the rather blank expressions disappeared from the faces of the children and bright spontaneous smiles were cast in Glee’s direction.
While Glee sleepily said her good nights Joanne’s eyes wandered to Rosa. Her face was a study as she watched Dom Manoel with Glee in his arms. No doubt about it, mused Joanne, Rosa was bitterly regretting her refusal to take her to the hospital. Little had she guessed, on leaving Joanne there in the middle of the road, with the senseless child in her arms, just what the outcome of her heartless action would be.
Upstairs, in Glee’s room, Dom Manoel laid Glee carefully down on the bed. She opened her eyes, her tiredness leaving her for a moment.
‘Thank you for letting me go to the party,’ she said.
‘You enjoyed yourself?’
‘Yes; it was lovely.’
‘The next time you’ll be able to join in everything, for very soon you’re going to be quite well again.’
Startled, Joanne reminded Dom Manoel that they wouldn’t be here for the next party, as Filipa’s birthday was not until October of the following year.
You’ll be here for Christmas,’ he said, throwing her a questioning look.
‘Of course, I forgot about Christmas.’
Christmas in a Portuguese great house really was something, Ricardo had told her, though at the time Joanne had not the remotest idea of ever partaking in such festivities. Glee’s eyelids drooped and Dom Manoel advised Joanne to undress her while she was still awake.
‘Yes, I will.’ Awkwardness swept over her as she added, ‘Good night, Dom Manoel, and thank you for being so good to Glee.’
‘Don’t thank me, Joanne. As I’ve said, I shall be requiring something in return.’
She glanced swiftly at him. Somehow she felt there was a connection between his referring to her as Joanne, and whatever it was he desired of her. Although aware of her curiosity he proffered no explanation, and the matter continued to puzzle her so much that she found herself mentioning it to Ricardo the next time she saw him. She had gone into the village and unexpectedly come across him in one of the shops.
‘Joanne! I thought you’d fallen out with me. I haven’t seen you for a week.’
‘Is it a week?’ she asked unbelievingly. Time had never passed so quickly as it had since she and Glee had taken up their residence at the Solar de Alvares almost a month ago. ‘Is it really a week since I called to see your mother?’
‘I flattered myself that it was me you came to see,’ he said teasingly.
‘I came to see you both.’
‘You mean that?’
‘I mean it,’ she replied seriously, and impulsively he took her arm.
‘Come and have a coffee,’ he invited, relieving her of her shopping bag. ‘I had begun to wonder whether I dared ring you up. Would it have been all right?’
‘I should think so. Dom Manoel wouldn’t have minded, I’m sure.’
‘You appear to have softened him up,’ he declared with a grimace, and it was then that Joanne told Ricardo about Dom Manoel’s strange request that she should do something for him. ‘And you’ve no idea what it is?’ he asked, puzzled.
Joanne shook her head.
‘He seems most reluctant to tell me.’
‘He�
��s waiting for something, you mean?’
‘I don’t know. It’s all so mystifying. If he wants me to do something for him why can’t he tell me now?’
Ricardo thought about it for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders.
‘It can’t be anything important, Joanne. Forget it; he’ll tell you when he’s ready.’ They had reached the cafe, and a few minutes later they were drinking their coffee and Ricardo was inquiring about Glee.
‘She’s progressing very well—though the effect on her nervous system was far worse than we’d imagined. She gets up now, and last Sunday she went downstairs to Leonor’s party.’
‘Dom Manoel let her?’ His swift glance of surprise brought to Joanne’s mind her own previous conclusion that Dom Manoel was an arrant snob.
‘He actually carried her up to her room when she became tired.’
‘He did—? What have you done to him!’
‘I haven’t done anything,’ she laughed. ‘It just happens that he’s not nearly so formidable as he appears.’
‘But you’ve only to look at him!’
‘I admit he does seem rather awe-inspiring when you don’t know him.’
‘But improves on acquaintance, I gather?’
Most certainly Dom Manoel had improved on acquaintance, she mused, reflecting on his swift response to her plea for help and, later, his gentleness with Glee.
Their coffee finished, Joanne and Ricardo stood for a while outside the cafe, chatting, while to and fro passed the native women, carrying great loads on their heads.
‘How do they balance them?’ Joanne wanted to know, fascinated at the ease and grace with which the women performed what to her seemed an impossible feat.
‘They learn from being very young. The modern girls can’t do it.’
‘No?’
‘They haven’t had the practice.’ A cart drawn by oxen came rumbling along the cobbled street, and the driver raised a hand in salute. ‘The people here are very friendly, yes?’
‘Very,’ she answered, thinking of the way both Dom Manoel and his fiancée had given her a totally wrong first impression.
‘You’d like to live here always?’
‘It isn’t possible, Ricardo.’ She saw his changing expression, noting the frown appearing on his brow.
‘You’ll be staying for a while, though?’
‘I’ve promised to remain while ever Dom Manoel needs me,’ she reminded him. ‘I don’t know how long that will be.’
‘You like me, Joanne?’ he queried after a pause.
Joanne turned, holding out her hand for the basket he still carried. She liked Ricardo, but in what way she did not know herself. That he was attractive there was no doubt, and that he could care for her there was no doubt either. His mother, too, welcomed her in a way which suggested she would encourage a friendship between them. A little while ago Joanne had wondered if her feelings for Ricardo were the beginnings of love ... but now, for some reason she could not explain, she knew those feelings would never develop into anything stronger than friendship. Ricardo handed her the basket, his manner still one of inquiry.
‘I like you, Ricardo, yes,’ she murmured uneasily, and then, with some haste, ‘I must be going. I’ve left Luisa with Glee, and I promised her I’d be back within the hour.’
‘When shall I see you again?’
‘It’s awkward. I have my work, and also I don’t like to leave Glee too often.’
‘I’ll ring you, then?’ he said and she nodded. ‘You never came to that meal,’ he went on. ‘Promise you’ll come as soon as Glee is about again. Mother’s been looking forward to it.’
‘I’ll come,’ she smiled. ‘But it won’t be for at least a week.’
‘As long as I know you’re coming I’ll be patient. When shall I ring you?’
‘Any time—it doesn’t matter. I’m always in.’ And after saying good-bye she hurried away, wondering if she had been wise in making that promise. Ricardo was serious, she knew, while she herself experienced a confusion of mind for which there was no apparent explanation.
CHAPTER FIVE
November came to an end, and with it much of the activity of the wine-making. After the harvesting came the treading and sieving, then the addition of the chemicals necessary for fermentation. The wine was left for three or four weeks before being put into barrels and taken down the river to the wine cellars at Vila Nova de Gaia where it would be stored for several months before being sold. During all this activity there was much song and dance among the peasants engaged in the processing of the wine. Those people who came from a distance had their tents pitched on the quinta and every evening they would dance round their camp fires and the sounds of music and singing could be heard floating across the valley.
‘You miss it when it’s all over.’ Joanne was sitting on the verandah, looking down to the hillside terraces which had recently produced such an abundance of grapes. Dom Manoel had joined her and they had been chatting for some time before Joanne made her remark about the festivities. Her voice held a tinge of regret and Dom Manoel regarded her in some amusement on hearing it.
‘There’s always another season,’ he observed in softer and more friendly tones than she had ever before heard him use.
‘I shan’t be here this time next year.’
Dom Manoel flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve; Joanne was struck by the idea that he was carefully choosing his words.
‘One can never say, Joanne, where one will be a year hence.’
‘I can be sure I won’t be in Portugal.’ There was a sort of intimacy about him which embarrassed her and she glanced away, over to where the sun spread a veil of burnished tulle across the sky. As the great fiery ball disappeared below the earth s dark edge the crimson changed almost imperceptibly into an admixture of amethyst and pearl, and finally a deep purple mantle descended on the valley and hills and the distant forests of pine. The west wind, merely a zephyr, blew warm and fresh on her face, and stirred her hair into attractive disorder. Conscious of Dom Manoel’s rather intense regard, she dwelt for a moment on the change that had taken place in their relationship since the evening of Leonor’s party. Although he remained cool, retaining the impersonal manner of the employer, he had at the same time discarded that haughty air of superiority which had so irritated Joanne on their first and subsequent meetings. The change was naturally perceived by Dona Rosa, and when, just over a week ago, Dom Manoel had told Joanne it was not necessary for her and Glee to keep to their own rooms, but that they must in future treat the house as their home, Dona Rosa had made no effort to conceal her anger.
You can’t have other people’s children running all over the place,’ she protested, ignoring the steely glint that had entered Dom Manoel’s dark eyes. ‘I’m sure, in any case, that Mrs. Barrie would prefer to keep to her own apartments.’
What Dom Manoel said to that Joanne had never discovered, for he made a polite request that she should leave the room, and Joanne instantly complied, with genuine relief. .
‘How can you be so sure you won’t be in Portugal?’ he asked, interrupting Joanne’s thoughts.
She looked at him rather wanly.
‘I haven’t the means to stay here, Dom Manoel,’ she reminded him ‘I lost everything on the farm.’
The admission, which would never have been made a few months ago, surprised Joanne as much as it surprised Dom Manoel. However, he made no comment on it and they fell once more into casual conversation until, complete darkness having fallen, Joanne said she must go indoors and see to Glee’s supper.
‘It’s already past her bedtime,’ she added, preparing to rise.
‘I’ve told Mafalda to give Glee her supper and put her to bed,’ he coolly informed her, and Joanne’s eyes flew to his, for a most odd inflection had now entered his deep attractive voice.
‘But I don’t understand? I always see to Glee myself.’
‘I’ve something important to say to you, Joanne.’
&n
bsp; Having half risen from her chair, Joanne promptly sat down again, her pulses quickening. Instinctively she knew the time had come for her to honour the promise she had so eagerly made.
‘What is it?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘I want you to become engaged to me.’ So soft and unemotional a tone!
For one incredulous moment she could only sit there peering through the darkness, trying to examine his features and telling herself she had not heard aright. But the memory of several incidents, so puzzling at the time, now gave strength to the notion that Dom Manoel was in fact quite serious. His refusal to buy her farm—she now saw that as a deliberate move to force her into accepting a post in his house; the more accessible manner he had assumed, developing gradually into friendliness towards her; the dropping of the formality of addressing her as Mrs. Barrie. But there had never been a word or glance of affection.
‘Dom Manoel,’ she said in almost inaudible tones, ‘you can’t want to marry me.’ What could have occurred between him and Dona Rosa? she wondered. Had they quarrelled again?—and was this some sort of revenge?
‘I haven’t said anything about marriage,’ he smoothly corrected. ‘I merely expressed a desire to become engaged to you.’
‘You mean—?’ She stopped, waiting in stupefied silence for him to continue, but he offered no explanation and she managed to finish, ‘It’s to be a temporary arrangement?’
‘Exactly.’
‘But why?’
‘Naturally I’ve a good reason,’ he remarked, stifling a yawn, ‘but it need not concern you.’
The coolness of him! Did he think she would agree to his request, just like that?
‘You want me to become engaged to you, without knowing why?’ she gasped.
‘You declared a willingness to do something for me,’ he reminded her softly. ‘I expect you to keep to your word.’
Joanne shook her head in blank bewilderment, and spoke her thoughts aloud.
‘What about Dona Rosa?’