by Anne Hampson
‘Dona Rosa?’ He reached up, to snap on the light. ‘What has Dona Rosa to do with it?’ he asked, eyeing her curiously.
‘You and she are not engaged?’
No mistaking his surprise ... and distaste. It would seem he actually disliked the girl.
‘What gave you that idea?’ he almost snapped.
The information had come from Luis, she recalled—and Luis had proved to be most unreliable in every way. Plainly the rumour had no foundation, and Joanne wondered at the feeling of relief sweeping over her at the knowledge.
Dom Manoel moved impatiently and, reluctant to admit having listened to the gossip of her farm hand, Joanne murmured rather feebly,
‘I just concluded that you and Dona Rosa were engaged.’
He raised his dark brows unbelievingly.
‘I can’t think how you reached a conclusion like that. Were we engaged Dona Rosa would obviously be wearing my ring.’
‘Yes, I realize that now.’ She thought of his mother, confidently declaring her son to be in love with Rosa—and her husband’s response that no one could love her. Joanne herself would not have been as definite as that, but with her new evaluation of Dom Manoel’s character she had a growing conviction that he and his cousin were totally unsuited. It was an odd circumstance that, having initially disliked Dom Manoel intensely, declaring him to be a pompous, conceited snob, she now knew without any doubt at all that he was far too good for the arrogant and conscienceless Dona Rosa Fernandes.
Joanne looked across at Dom Manoel, wondering if he were aware of his mother’s hopes regarding a marriage between him and Rosa. But it would not concern him, for always he would do as he pleased, never allowing anyone to influence his actions. He was now waiting in an attitude of bored impatience for her to add to her comment, but she allowed the subject of Rosa to drop.
‘I can’t become engaged to you without knowing the reason,’ she ventured persuasively. ‘Surely you can tell me a little more?’
‘So you’re breaking your promise,’ he accused, ignoring her plea.
‘I don’t know what to say. It’s so unexpected.’
‘I’m not asking the impossible,’ he pointed out with some asperity. ‘You merely have to wear my ring for a few months. This is not going to cause you any inconvenience that I can see.’
True ... but Joanne considered his request unfair, and she told him so.
‘I should at least know why I’m doing this,’ she added reasonably.
But his inexorable expression was sufficient to convince Joanne that he had no intention of confiding in her. Either she must accede unconditionally to his wish, or she must break her promise. She hadn’t any choice, for there existed no reasonable excuse for breaking her promise. As Dom Manoel said, he did not ask the impossible. How would Dona Rosa take it? she wondered, for it was abundantly clear that Rosa cherished hopes of becoming Dom Manoel’s wife.
‘I hope you’ll endeavour to act as if you—care for me,’ he requested when at length she consented to do as he wished. ‘It will appear most odd if, for instance, you continue to address me as Dom Manoel.’
Odd to whom? There was only Rosa that Joanne could see. Was he doing this wholly for Rosa’s benefit?—because he wanted to throw off the net which threatened to drag him into marriage? But no, that couldn’t be, for Dom Manoel was not the man to resort to stratagem as a way out of the difficulty. He would be quite honest with Rosa regarding his feelings for her.
A soft flush had risen to Joanne’s cheeks at Dom Manoel’s words; he noticed it, with growing amusement, and as another thought suddenly struck her she thankfully changed the subject.
‘When you saw me in England you offered me the post here—had you the engagement in mind then?’
‘No.’
‘Then why did you offer me the post?’
‘As an inducement for you to give up the idea of farming Pendela and sell out to me. You mentioned you’d no other means of making a living, so I was merely providing you with one.’
‘But later, when I wanted to sell you the farm—?’
‘I refused.’ He smiled quizzically at her. ‘By that time I did have the engagement in mind.’
‘It wasn’t very kind to refuse me,’ she said accusingly, ‘when I was so desperate.’
‘You’d been stubborn and foolish. I had no qualms at exploiting the situation—for my need, Joanne, is greater than yours.’
Bewilderedly she spread her hands, but made no further request for information. It was futile. If he ever thought better of it he would enlighten her, but that would be in his own good time, and for the present Joanne accepted the situation as it was.
‘You asked me to stay until Leonor and Filipa go back to their mother. Shall I still be remaining for just that period?’
‘By the time my sister is ready to take her children my hopes will have materialized,’ he replied enigmatically.
‘The position’s going to be difficult,’ she warned, ‘when I’m so completely in the dark.’
‘Difficulty will only occur if you create it,’ he returned without much interest. ‘No one is going to question the validity of our engagement, and all that’s necessary is, as I’ve said, that you show me a little affection whenever we are in the company of others.’ His dark eyes encountered hers and he smiled. ‘I too shall behave as if I ... love you.’
Her blush deepened, and a nervousness assailed her. Unconsciously she twisted her hands in her lap, recalling how Dom Manoel’s touch had so disturbed her when they had danced together at Leonor’s party. To act as if she cared ...? And to have him do the same. Her nervousness increased to real fear, for no matter what Dom Manoel said, she knew her role would prove far more difficult than he believed.
He announced the engagement at dinner the following Sunday. His mother and stepfather were present, and a stunned silence followed when, on taking Joanne’s hand, he had given the news in his customary firm clear accents.
‘You’re—you’re going to marry a widow?’ exclaimed his mother without any effort at tact, and she added incredulously, ‘But you hardly know Mrs. Barrie!’
Flushing hotly, Joanne lowered her head, but not before she had seen the dangerous glint that had entered the eyes of her fiancé.
‘Joanne and I have known each other for several months—quite long enough to fall in love,’ he said abruptly.
Rosa, visibly shaken by his announcement, collected herself together with surprising rapidity. She even managed a smile as she offered her congratulations. Joanne was forced to glance up; Rosa’s smile was superficial ... the hatred in her eyes went very deep. As on one or two previous occasions her attention seemed to be concentrated on the wedding ring Joanne wore, and again Joanne wondered what she was thinking. Could it be that Rosa suspected she was not married? If this were the case Rosa was naturally wondering how Joanne would explain when the time came for her marriage to Dom Manoel to take place. Impatiently Joanne shrugged off her musings. She had no proof that Rosa’s thoughts were running on those lines; and in any case, as there would be no marriage, Joanne had nothing to fear. Nevertheless, she bitterly regretted her deception, though precisely for what reason she could not have said.
Manoel and his stepfather were looking at one another, and there was a most odd expression on the older man’s face.
‘I hope you’ll both be very happy,’ he murmured on a distinctly satirical note. ‘Er—when is the wedding to be?’ His wife glared at him before casting an almost baleful glance in Joanne’s direction.
‘There’s no hurry, Pedro. No matter what Manoel says, they scarcely know one another.’
‘But if they’re in love,’ he mildly returned, his eyes still fixing those of his stepson, ‘then what is there to wait for?’ What would they all say, wondered Joanne, when it was known that the wedding would not take place? And how was Manoel to explain? She would have thought a broken engagement would be most abhorrent to him, but there obviously must be one.
‘It’s early yet to fix the date,’ Manoel replied calmly. ‘It will be announced in due course.’
Senhor Pedro gave him an expressive glance, but pursued the matter no further. His wife, however, said again there was no need for haste, and a faint smile touched Joanne’s lips. So disappointed, Dona Clementina, and so anxious for a delay so that her son might have time to reconsider his decision to marry a widow, and a commoner. Little did she know just how necessary her fears were!
During the meal, which to Joanne was far from pleasant, she several times encountered a vindictive gleam in Rosa’s eyes, but there was something else there, something that threatened. Rosa had hoped to marry her cousin, and although she still preserved that air of resignation which had followed her remarkable recovery after Manoel’s announcement, her mind seemed to be working furiously and Joanne gained the impression that she wasn’t resigned at all. She might be devising some form of villainy, the way she looked, thought Joanne, and then gave herself a mental shake. She seemed always to be imagining things where Rosa was concerned.
The news of the engagement spread quickly and immediately on hearing of it Ricardo rang Joanne up. Manoel answered the phone, and regarded Joanne with a rather odd expression as he said,
‘For you—someone by the name of Ricardo.’ His voice was crisp and cold, she thought, and wondered if he considered she were taking a liberty by having a friend ring her up at his house.
Ricardo sounded as if he couldn’t believe his ears when Joanne said, in answer to his incredulous inquiry,
‘Yes, Ricardo, I’m engaged to Dom Manoel.’ She had not stopped to think, when she agreed to Manoel’s proposal, what effect her engagement would have on Ricardo. And now she felt miserable because she knew he was hurt. Should she tell him the truth? Her first impulse was to do so, but after a little consideration she decided against it. She could not be sure Ricardo would keep it to himself; he was very close to his mother and Joanne suspected he told her everything. No, to enlighten Ricardo would be taking a risk, and Joanne felt a tingle of apprehension at the idea of Manoel’s anger if this obscure plan of his were to fail through any fault of hers.
‘There’s something I don’t understand,’ exclaimed Ricardo angrily. ‘You can’t possibly be in love with him!’ Joanne made no comment and Ricardo went on, ‘I saw you less than a week ago and you didn’t say anything about it then!’
She had met him after putting Glee to bed, and he had taken her to his home. Only a few days previously she and Glee had a meal with Ricardo and his mother. On neither occasion had she even mentioned Dom Manoel, so she could understand how odd it must seem to Ricardo that their engagement had now been announced.
‘It must seem strange,’ she admitted, realizing, to her astonishment, that Manoel was still in the room.
‘Strange? It’s just not feasible!’
‘It’s—it’s quite true,’ she reaffirmed, her colour rising now as Manoel glanced up from the book he was supposedly scanning.
‘Look here, Joanne, when can I see you?’ Ricardo’s voice was raised and Joanne looked rather fearfully at Manoel, sure that he was catching every word.
‘I can’t say—that is—’
‘We’ve been good friends,’ he cut in sharply, ‘and I want some sort of an explanation, for I’m positive there is an explanation!’
‘Perhaps next week some time,’ she began, when Ricardo interrupted her.
‘What about tonight?’
‘No, not tonight; you see, Glee—’
‘Glee’s taken care of, you’ve said so yourself.’ And, in a softer, persuasive tone, ‘Tonight, Joanne, please.’
She bit her lip, wondering what she would say to him. But there would have to be a meeting, for as he had said, they had been good friends. Might as well make it this evening, she decided, and told him she would be at the gate at eight o’clock.
‘The gate there—at Dom Manoel’s house?’
‘Yes—at eight.’ Ricardo agreed and thankfully Joanne replaced the receiver. Manoel was standing by the window, the book in his hand. Turning, he let his eyes wander slowly over her, while his brow creased in a frown.
‘You’ve made a man friend since coming here?’ he asked shortly.
‘Yes, Ricardo Lopes. He lives just along the road from the village.’ Why this awkwardness, this tinge of apprehension at the way Manoel was regarding her?
‘You’re meeting him this evening?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Outside my house?’
Joanne frowned, her temper rising. She resented these questions.
‘It doesn’t really matter where we meet,’ she returned, a hint of tartness in her voice.
‘It matters a great deal. I prefer you not to be seen out with this young man at all during the period of our engagement.’
‘Are you giving me an order?’ she inquired, with a slight toss of her head.
‘I’m requesting you to consider my feelings.’
Joanne blinked at him.
‘How can my friendship for Ricardo affect your feelings?’ she asked, puzzled.
‘Use your common sense,’ he snapped. ‘You’re supposed to be in love with me. The whole idea of our becoming engaged is to give the impression that we’re in love.’
‘To give the impression to whom?’ Joanne eyed him expectantly, but all she received was a curt reminder that it was none of her business. And she retaliated by the pronouncement that she was definitely going out with Ricardo.
‘I think not,’ he said with dangerous quiet. ‘I won’t be made the object of ridicule. Were you to keep company with this Ricardo gossip would naturally result.’
She hadn’t thought of that, but now it was pointed out to her she admitted that, in fairness to Manoel, she must practise discretion, and although she still resented his arbitrary tones and manner she agreed to ring Ricardo and make other arrangements.
‘Where can I see him?’ She looked to Manoel for some suggestion—and saw his mouth tighten as if for a moment he contemplated forbidding her to see Ricardo at all. A militant sparkle entered her eyes as she waited challengingly for him to speak. His own eyes kindled on noting her expression and despite the alteration in her opinion of him Joanne knew that basically he had not changed. The softness and compassion she had discovered merely formed another side to his nature; the arrogance and superiority remained and would come into evidence just whenever he considered they were suited to the occasion. However, to Joanne’s surprise his expression relaxed and he said she could ask Ricardo to the house.
‘He can come here?’ She gazed at him blankly, unable to believe her ears.
‘It will be more circumspect for you to meet him here,’ he said, but added, ‘Tomorrow evening, though.’
‘Not tonight?’
‘Not tonight.’
Baffled, Joanne asked him why Ricardo could not come this evening.
‘Because I say so.’
Her chin came up, but before she had time to make the protesting retort that rose to her lips the door opened and the three children burst into the room.
‘Uncle Manoel, will you make an argument for us?’ asked Leonor.
‘Settle an argument,’ corrected Glee, laughing.
‘Yes—will you, Uncle Manoel?’
‘If I can—although you deserve a scolding. Do you usually enter a room in this hooligan fashion?’ Leonor shook her head, murmuring an apology. ‘What is this argument I’m called upon to settle?’
‘It’s the bridesmaids,’ Filipa put in. ‘Leonor says she should be the chief bridesmaid because she’s the eldest, and Glee says it should be her because it’s her mummy who’s getting married.’
A little silence followed these words. Manoel’s glance flickered to Joanne; she flushed and lowered her head.
‘It isn’t important at present,’ Manoel said calmly. ‘We can talk about it some other time.’
‘Oh, but we want to know.’ Glee looked at him with that coaxing air and when he ig
nored her she moved closer and took his hand. ‘It should be me, shouldn’t it, Uncle Manoel?’
Joanne gave a little gasp and said hastily,
‘Dom Manoel, if you please, Glee.’
‘But he’s my uncle now,’ declared Glee, looking to him for support.
‘Not yet, Glee,’ he smiled. ‘But you may call me Uncle if it pleases you.’ She treated him to a dazzling smile and his lips twitched in amusement. Watching him, Joanne experienced that odd disturbance again, but before she had time to dwell on it, or to analyse it, Glee was speaking, insisting on an answer to her question.
‘I’ve said, Glee, that it isn’t important just now.’ Disengaging his hand, he waved it towards the door. ‘Off you go, all of you—and close the door quietly behind you!’
‘Their English has improved enormously,’ he said when they had gone, and Joanne flushed at the praise.
‘They could speak it quite well before,’ she submitted modestly.
‘Still of the opinion that you’re not earning your money, eh?’
‘Let’s not pretend, Manoel,’ she returned, a laugh in her voice.
‘Nevertheless, I still maintain you’ve done some good work with Filipa and Leonor.’
He was in a most approachable mood and Joanne said daringly,
‘Will you buy my farm — some time?’
His eyes travelled to the window, and to the clutter of ugly buildings spoiling his view.
‘I’ll buy your farm, Joanne. Have no fear, you’ve not lost all your money.’
Joanne examined his profile, noting the firm and finely-chiselled lines of the aristocrat, the aquiline nose and thrusting jaw. The thick black hair, waving slightly from his dark forehead, had a sprinkling of grey at the temples, giving him an even more distinguished appearance. Truly he was very different from any man she had ever known. He turned his head and as she became aware of his amused stare she coloured, put out as much by his attention as by the sudden fluttering of her pulse.
‘It’s ... very good of you,’ she murmured gratefully, hoping her confusion was not so apparent that he would perceive it.
‘Not at all,’ he objected. ‘I’ve always wanted the land, as you already know.’ He spoke quietly, and with an honesty that strengthened the accessibility of his mood. 'I must confess, Joanne, I was very angry when you wouldn’t sell, but as it’s turned out, it was all for the best.’