by Anne Hampson
She came from behind a clump of bushes, a smile on her lips.
‘I got home about ten minutes ago, and felt like a breath of fresh air.’
Joanne had gone rigid, and the colour flooded her face at the memory of the way she had so eagerly responded to her fiancé’s kisses, believing them to be sincere. But he had known Rosa was there, strolling along behind the bushes.
‘And I should have known there was some reason for his action,’ whispered Joanne convulsively. ‘How could I be so foolish as to believe he’d fallen in love with me?’
The more she dwelt on it the more she squirmed with shame and humiliation. What must he think? But suddenly a surge of anger swept through her. He had no right to carry his acting that far. She had agreed to pose as his fiancée, it was true, but she had not reckoned on being subjected to Manoel’s sham lovemaking. Nor would she endure it; he should be made to see, once and for all, that he must keep his distance.
For the next couple of days she deliberately avoided him as much as possible, using her own sitting-room more than had been her practice of late. And when she did of necessity find herself in his company, as when they all had dinner together in the evening, Joanne saw that her manner was—for Rosa’s benefit—friendly, and no more. Hardness in Manoel’s eyes she often encountered, but he gave no other visible sign that he noticed any change in her manner towards him. Naturally he would do his utmost to conceal from Rosa any rift that might have developed between Joanne and himself.
On the third morning Joanne received a letter which upset her so much that, after dwelling on its contents for most of the day, she eventually made up her mind to talk to Manoel about it. She sought him out just before dinner; he was in the salon, reading, and glanced up as she entered, his hard eyes sweeping over with indifference, but kindling with faint interest as they finally settled on her face.
‘You want something, Joanne?’ His voice was cold and crisp. She guessed that he had deliberately spoken first in order to convey his awareness that she would not be approaching him like this unless she did want something. The question was also designed to affect her confidence; it succeeded, and to her annoyance Joanne found herself stammering,
‘Manoel, I’ve had a—a letter from a friend of mine. She’s just lost her mother and I—I wondered if you’d mind very much if I went to her—just for a few days?’
She hadn’t been very explicit, and a questioning lift of his brow brought forth some further explanation. Lynn, her friend from their schooldays, had at nineteen given up a promising career in the Civil Service to devote her time to her mother, who had become paralysed. This was seven years ago and now Lynn was left, alone in the great house which her mother had refused to give up. As she had not worked or gone visiting she had no friend to whom she could turn—no friend except Joanne who, before coming to Portugal, had made a practice of visiting Lynn and her mother at least once a week.
‘These were the only breaks Lynn ever had,’ Joanne went on, watching his expression anxiously. ‘She never went out in the evenings, nor even had a holiday. She’s feeling terribly lonely and lost, and I must go to her—If you don’t mind?’ she added on a little pleading note, for it seemed to her that his eyes had taken on a more pronounced hardness even while she spoke.
‘She has no other relatives, you say?’
Joanne shook her head.
‘Lynn’s father died when she was small; she’s an only child and hasn’t even a distant cousin to whom she could turn.’
A frown crossed Manoel’s face; he appeared vaguely troubled, she thought, as he sat there in silence for what seemed an eternity.
‘Supposing you did go, for a few days, what could you do for her?’
‘Well ... nothing much,’ she was bound to admit. ‘But Lynn wouldn’t feel quite so alone. You see, it’s only a week since her mother died, and they were greatly devoted to one another. Lynn must be feeling dreadful.’
A little sigh broke from his lips and again he lapsed into thought.
‘If you go to her, and then come away, it will, I’m sure, be worse than not going at all.’ His tones were firm, decisive, and Joanne bit her lip. She could insist on going, for there was no reason at all why she should ask Manoel’s permission, but she was after all employed by Manoel and she owed it to him to ask his consent to this absence.
‘I’d like to go, Manoel,’ she persisted, ‘if you don’t mind?’
‘You’ll be coming away about a week before Christmas.’
‘Yes—’ Joanne hadn’t thought of that. ‘It’s going to be awful for her, having Christmas alone.’
‘That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking,’ he returned, almost staggering her by the admission. She had told him about Lynn because she was so troubled about her, and because she felt it was her duty to make some effort to go to her; but she had not expected Manoel to bother his head very much about the matter. He looked at her for a thoughtful moment and then said firmly, ‘She must come here. Invite her to stay for as long as she likes.’
‘She—she can come here?’ If she was staggered before Joanne felt completely stunned now. ‘But you don’t know her!’
‘She’s your friend, and she happens to be in need, so she must come to you.’ A faint smile erased the last hard line from his mouth. ‘We’re here to help one another, Joanne,’ he said quietly, ‘and life loses its purpose once we begin to ignore that fact.’
Joanne swallowed a curious little lump that had suddenly lodged in her throat. She forgot how he had used her, causing her shame and humiliation that had naturally brought anger in its wake. For he was a truly wonderful person ... and yet how deceiving at times when that arrogance was in evidence, and that icy inflection was allowed to creep into his voice.
‘It’s most kind of you, Manoel,’ she quivered, too full to say much. ‘I’ll let her know right away.’
‘Yes, do that. And I’ve also been thinking ... she might prefer a little privacy at times, for obviously she won’t have got over her sorrow yet. So she can have a bedroom next to your suite, and use your sitting-room. When she doesn’t want to be alone she can of course join us down here.’
It was ridiculous to cry, but tears stood on Joanne’s lashes, and her voice was husky with emotion as she thanked him again.
‘If she just stays over Christmas,’ she began, when he interrupted her.
‘She must stay as long as she likes,’ he repeated firmly.
‘You mean—she can stay until Glee and I go back to England? We could then leave together—’
‘We’ll talk about your going home another time,’ he cut in sharply, and Joanne looked at him in surprise—not only because of the marked change in his voice, but also because his manner conveyed the impression that even the mention of their leaving here angered him.
‘You said the children would be returning to their own home early in January,’ she reminded him breathlessly.
‘Well?’ Slight arrogance in the lift of his brow and the hardness had returned to his eyes.
‘I expected to be leaving ... My services won’t be necessary.’
‘You and I happen to be engaged—or have you forgotten?’
Was he making a subtle reference to her avoidance of him? she wondered, blinking at him, her mind confused.
‘You said our engagement would last only until the children left here.’
‘I believe I did.’ He stifled a yawn and glanced down to where he had placed his book on the couch beside him. ‘I should communicate with your friend immediately, Joanne. She’s sure to be anxiously awaiting your reply to her letter.’ Picking up his book, Manoel began to read. Joanne stared at him for a moment, her mind more confused than ever by his deliberate dropping of the subject.
‘I’ll tell her to come, then. Will someone bring her from the airport?’
He glanced up.
‘Certainly; I’ll send the car.’
‘Thank you, Manoel,’ she said, and quietly left the room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HELENA and Joanne were strangely attracted to one another right from the start, and when on bringing his sister home a week before Christmas Manoel had introduced Joanne as his fiancée, Helena greeted her with undisguised enthusiasm.
‘I couldn’t wait to see you,’ she smiled, her big brown eyes wandering over Joanne’s slim figure and then coming to rest admiringly on her face. ‘Manoel always did have excellent taste!’
Naturally Joanne blushed. Rosa was present and her eyes darkened with suppressed fury. Both Manoel and his sister noticed it and the conversation was instantly changed. But later, when Joanne and Helena were in the salon waiting for the luncheon gong, Helena surprised Joanne with her outspokenness.
‘Rosa dislikes you intensely—but of course you don’t need me to tell you that!’ Joanne made no comment and Helena added, ‘How did she take it at first—the engagement, I mean?’
‘I don’t know—’
‘Certainly you do! We all know when we’re regarded with envy; we wouldn’t be women if we didn’t!’
Joanne had to laugh, and went on to say, though with obvious reluctance, that she had noticed Rosa was not too happy about the engagement.
‘That’s an understatement,’ chuckled Helena. She had an attractive accent, but her English was perfect. ‘She hates the thought of having to leave the Solar de Alvares, because she’d become confident she was here for good. Mind you,’ Helena went on, becoming grave, ‘Manoel’s engagement to you has come as a shock to more than Rosa. Mother’s gnashing her teeth at the idea of Manoel’s marrying a widow.’
Joanne turned away, staring through the window to the fountain sparkling in the sunshine. She felt a hypocrite; it was unfair to allow Helena to go on believing in the engagement. Yet what could she do? She determined to have a word with Manoel later, and ask him if Helena could be informed of the true situation.
‘I realized your mother was not pleased,’ she admitted, more for something to say than anything else. ‘Your stepfather didn’t appear to mind, though.’
‘He wouldn’t; he’s a pet—and never did like Rosa, so he’ll be delighted at the turn of events.
‘Why does Rosa live here?’ Joanne asked impulsively, even while feeling she was being disloyal to Manoel. For he had made it quite clear that he desired her to be left completely in the dark about everything that in any way concerned his cousin.
‘Hasn’t Manoel told you?’ Helena looked curiously at her, but immediately went on, ‘Rosa lost her husband when she was only twenty-eight—he died suddenly of a heart attack, so his death came as a dreadful shock to Rosa. Manoel took her to live with him, and she sort of housekeeps here. She used to be very different,’ Helena added with a sudden frown. ‘We went to school together and she was ever so popular. Joao’s death did something to her.’
‘She became embittered, you mean?’
‘More than that; she became a totally different person. I don’t know what our uncle would think about her now,’ Helena murmured reflectively, almost forgetting Joanne’s presence. ‘There was no one like Rosa in his eyes. He thought more about her than all the rest of us put together. It was he who suggested Rosa should make her home with Manoel, and I rather think he hoped that eventually they’d marry.’
‘This uncle—he’s dead now?’
Helena nodded. ‘There was some mystery about Rosa’s coming here,’ she went on musingly, her brow puckered in concentration. ‘Manoel won’t tolerate being questioned, but there was a rumour that he’d made some sort of promise to Uncle Gonyalo, and until he astounded me with the information that he was engaged to you I had fully believed the promise he made was that he would one day marry Rosa.’
Had he made such a promise? wondered Joanne. But no, for if Manoel made a promise he would keep to it, no matter what the cost to him might be. Of course, he could still marry Rosa, when his engagement to Joanne was broken, but Joanne felt sure he had no such intention.
‘You believe he made some sort of promise, though?’
‘I’m sure of it.’ Helena gazed meditatively into the fire and there was no sound in the room for a moment. ‘Perhaps he promised to give her a home for life—or until she marries again.’
The summons for lunch precluded any further discussion on the subject, but Joanne thought about it for a long while, and although she hadn’t the faintest idea what the promise was, she did know without any doubt at all that Manoel’s engagement had in some way been necessitated by that promise.
Manoel was curt with her when she requested that his sister should be allowed into the secret.
‘It’s quite unnecessary,’ he almost snapped when Joanne had perseveringly repeated her request. ‘I prefer that everyone shall consider us to be genuinely engaged.’
‘But, Manoel ... Helena’s so nice, and I feel ashamed at deceiving her.’
‘I’ve said all I’m going to say on the matter, Joanne. Now please don’t let me hear any more about it.’
Joanne left him and went upstairs, her cheeks tingling. There was no need for him to adopt that high-handed manner towards her, or speak to her as if she were a child!
Lynn was in the sitting-room, a book lying open on her lap. She smiled as Joanne came in, and moved to one side, making room on the sofa for Joanne to sit down.
‘How do you feel?’ Joanne eyed her anxiously, for it was plain that Lynn was not sleeping too well.’
‘Much better than if I were at home, on my own,’ she returned gratefully. ‘You’re so kind, Joanne.’
‘It’s Manoel you have to thank,’ Joanne said quickly. ‘As soon as I told him how things were with you he immediately said you must come.’
‘He’s nice.’ A wistful expression entered Lynn’s blue eyes, for not only had she given up her career in order to care for her mother, but she had broken her engagement as well. For while her mother lived marriage was not for her. ‘You’ll be very happy, Joanne.’
A flush rose to Joanne’s cheeks. She had not stopped to think, on eagerly agreeing to Manoel’s suggestion that Lynn should come here, that her own position would prove to be extremely awkward. It was not only that her engagement was a sham, but there were also the complications brought about by her deceiving Manoel. While Lynn remained in seclusion in Joanne’s apartments it had not mattered, but this morning Manoel had sent Lynn an invitation to come down to dinner, and she had accepted. All day Joanne had been dwelling on the matter and wondering what course to take. Manoel had given her a definite order to say nothing to Lynn about their engagement being a sham, but Joanne was heartily sick of deceit and finally she decided to relate the whole story to her friend.
‘I know I can trust you,’ she said before she began. ‘You won’t deliberately let anything out, but you’ll have to be on your guard all the time.’ And then she told Lynn the whole story, watching her changing expression and her amazement when she admitted that she and Manoel were not really engaged.
‘But what a coil!’ Lynn exclaimed incredulously. ‘What on earth did you pose as a widow for?’
‘I’ve told you—Manoel rubbed me up the wrong way and I hadn’t the patience to put him right when he assumed I’d been married.’
Lynn shook her head, looking at Joanne in disbelief. ‘You’re usually so sensible,’ she said, examining her as if expecting to find some actual change in her appearance. ‘It just isn’t you, Joanne. Surely you knew you’d find yourself in an awkward position?’
‘I didn’t think, at the time, that I’d ever set eyes on Manoel again—what I mean is, I never thought I’d be in such close contact with him. We were to be neighbours, I knew that, but he was so arrogant and superior that I didn’t think he’d even look at me.’
‘And now ...’ Lynn glanced covertly at the ring Joanne wore. ‘You’d be in a bit of a mess if you were really engaged. You’d have to tell Manoel the truth then.’
‘Well, we’re not really engaged, so it doesn’t matter.’
A prolonged silence and then, f
rom Lynn, curiously,
‘Do you wish you were, Joanne?’
That question, so unexpected, sent Joanne into a flutter and her friend’s eyes flickered perceptively.
‘I—I—’ Joanne broke off, then shrugged her shoulders as she noted Lynn’s expression. ‘I like him,’ she admitted, trying not to reveal her sudden dejection.
‘You more than like him. What of Manoel himself? You’re most attractive, you know, Joanne.’
‘Thank you, Lynn,’ she said a trifle bitterly. ‘But Manoel would never care for me in that way.’
‘Rosa—she sounds deadly. From what you say it appears they were almost engaged before you came on the scene?’
‘No, I don’t believe there was anything in the rumour. Rosa wanted to marry Manoel, that’s fairly certain, but I don’t think he ever intended marrying her.’ She went on to relate what Helena had told her. And then ended by saying, ‘Whatever you do, watch Rosa. She’s pumped Glee, as I’ve said, and she might, in her clever and subtle way, try to gain some information from you.’
‘I’ll take care, you can depend on me for that.’ Lynn paused thoughtfully. ‘You know, Joanne, the best thing you can do is go to Manoel and confess the whole. Otherwise you’ll become so involved you’ll never extricate yourself.’
But Joanne firmly shook her head, pointing out the impossibility of making a confession.
‘His mother would consider me quite mad, and as for Manoel’s reaction—’ She stopped, and Lynn’s face broke into a smile as Joanne gave a little shudder. ‘I’m not willing to take the risk, Lynn—and after all, it’s quite unnecessary, because we’ll be going home soon and I’ll never set eyes on Manoel again.’ She reflected for a moment on his bored dismissal of the subject when she made mention of her return to England. But there was no special significance in that, she decided and put it out of her mind.
Lynn was deep in thought, and after a while she looked up, agreeing with Joanne that a confession was in fact unnecessary, but commenting on Rosa’s projected visit to England and the possible consequences should she learn that Joanne had never been married and that Glee was her niece and not her daughter.