by Anne Hampson
Joanne yawned and became drowsy. Would she have agreed to marry Manoel had she overheard the conversation earlier? Yes, most decidedly, for although she knew it was far from commendable, she experienced some considerable satisfaction at the prospect of both Rosa’s and Dona Clementina’s consternation when eventually they should learn that there was to be a wedding after all.
She was up very early the following morning, and so was Lynn, for they had both bought presents for Manoel. Joanne’s was a leather-bound book of poems and Lynn’s was a key-ring, attached to which was a beautiful little model of St. Christopher, hand-carved in ivory.
‘Mine will go in, but what about yours?’ Lynn asked, putting her attractive little parcel into the shoe.
‘It’ll have to go on top. See, most of the others are on top.’
Manoel had put all the presents out, and Joanne wondered who had tied them up, for they were all prettily wrapped and secured with coloured ribbons.
‘We’d better go,’ she said, cocking an ear. ‘I do believe those children are coming downstairs.’
She and Lynn reached the sitting-room before any of the children appeared, and Joanne made some coffee, using the electric kettle which Manoel had provided.
They sat quietly for a while and then Joanne decided to relate to Lynn all that had happened last night.
‘You’re going to marry Dom Manoel?’ Lynn gasped, and immediately added, a trifle anxiously, ‘But if he’s doing it just to get rid of Rosa, how can—? What I mean is, will you be happy, Joanne ... without love?’
‘I love him,’ she admitted. ‘But you’ve already guessed that.’
‘Yes— Manoel, though, if he doesn’t care for you it’s going to be—well, difficult, to say the least.’
Joanne sipped her coffee, her eyes pensive yet strangely shining with hope. For hadn’t Manoel said himself that one day love might enter into their relationship? Prospects for their future could not be so bad if he were able to say a thing like that. And her own love was strong; surely she could convey this to him without suffering too great an embarrassment.
‘I’m quite optimistic,’ she said at length. ‘My only dread now is that of telling Manoel I’m not a widow. Everyone is going to think I’m completely mad for adopting a pose like that.’
‘It’s certainly going to be awkward,’ agreed Lynn ruefully. ‘I know I advised you to own up, but on thinking it over I must admit you’re not in a very enviable position.’ ‘And it gets worse.’ Joanne gave a little deprecating laugh. ‘It didn’t matter when we were only going to be engaged, but now the truth will have to come out.’ She frowned at the idea of her fiancé’s anger—for angry he would be at having to explain to his relatives and friends. ‘I wish I had the courage to get it over and done with, but I’ve decided to wait until after Christmas.’
‘For what reason?’
‘I really haven’t the faintest idea. One instinctively puts off some unpleasant task until the last possible moment.’
‘And suffers the added anxiety. If you’re going to do it—and of course you have no alternative—then do it now.’
But Joanne shook her head. She was not going to spoil her Christmas for anything.
And it did in fact prove to be a memorable time for both Joanne and Lynn. Everyone came down and received their gifts, and then gave presents to each other. Manoel smiled affectionately at Joanne as he opened his book, and a moment after thanking her he was thanking Lynn for her charming little gift. For Lynn there was an expensive perfume, and she whisperingly inquired of Joanne how Manoel could have known she liked this particular one.
‘He asked me,’ was the simple explanation.
Joanne’s present from Manoel took her breath away. It was a bracelet in twisted cords of gold, with a clasp of diamonds and rubies. She took it from its bed of velvet and for a moment could only stare at it, the tears hanging on her lashes.
‘Oh, Joanne, how lovely!’ The involuntary exclamation came from Lynn, who was at her side. She fingered it and told Joanne to put it on. ‘Shall I fasten it for you?’
‘Y-yes, please.’ Joanne looked up at Manoel, and blinked back the tears.
‘Thank you,’ she said simply, too full to add anything more.
Manoel said nothing, for which Joanne was grateful, and after a little while she regained her composure and was able to take an interest in Leonor and Filipa, who were excitedly showing her their presents. All Glee had in her shoe was a tiny doll in a bed no bigger than a matchbox. She stared unbelievingly, then thanked Manoel quietly, her lip trembling. But the next moment she was clapping her hands as Manoel indicated a large bag lying on the hearth. In it was everything she had asked for, although Manoel told her with mock sternness that she didn’t deserve them because she had asked.
‘And now come and see what you get when you don’t ask,’ he invited, taking her hand. Over in the corner, behind the sofa, was a shining bicycle in blue and chrome.
‘Oh ...!’ breathed Glee, staring at it. ‘Uncle Manoel, I didn’t think you would know I wanted a bike!’
‘She’s going to cry!’ exclaimed Filipa unbelievingly, but Joanne felt she herself would cry any moment now.
‘Manoel,’ she said huskily, ‘you’re so good.’
‘Nonsense, Joanne. Glee felt left out, with Filipa and Leonor having bicycles. They leave them here, so she will be able to ride with them whenever they come to stay.’ He lifted it out and held it while Glee sat on it.
Rosa and Dona Clementina were looking at one another, and Joanne made an effort to blink back the tears as she thanked Manoel for his gift to Glee.
‘It’s such an expensive one,’ she added. ‘Glee, you must take good care of it.’
‘I didn’t think you would know I wanted a bike so much,’ Glee said again. She was still sitting on the saddle, but she twisted right round and, reaching up, put both arms round Manoel’s neck and kissed him loudly. ‘I love you very much,’ she said, and pushed a knuckle into her eyes.
‘Well, both you and your mother are the oddest creatures,’ he said with a laugh, relieving the tension. ‘I don’t know that I’ll buy either of you a present next year—’ He broke off as Joanne started visibly at his words. ‘Come,’ he said briskly to Glee, ‘off you get.’
‘Can’t I ride it now?’
‘After breakfast. Leonor and Filipa will go with you.’
The real highlight of Christmas was not the magnificent lunch that was served instead of dinner, but the party in the evening for the workers on the estate, and their children. A long table had been placed in the salon and it was literally loaded with food. The adults helped themselves, but the servants looked after the children. Then there was dancing and games, with prizes for the winners. Finally the presents were taken from the tree. Every single one had a name upon it and had been chosen with care. In previous years Rosa had assisted Manoel with the handing out of the gifts, and she stood at one side, an ugly expression on her face as she watched Joanne taking the presents from Manoel as he cut them from the tree. Ricardo received initialled handkerchiefs and his mother embroidery silks. As Joanne handed the be-ribboned cellophane box to the beaming Senhora Lopes she recalled Manoel’s interest in her hobby ... and wondered how long it would be before she really knew this man whom she was so soon to marry.
Senhora Lopes had been enjoying herself just sitting there, watching the various activities and chatting to neighbours, and during the evening Joanne’s eyes had repeatedly strayed to Ricardo and Lynn. They danced together, had their refreshments over in a corner by themselves, and they now stood by the window, Ricardo’s hand on Lynn’s shoulder as they watched Manoel and Joanne with the presents. So intently was she absorbed in them that Joanne failed to take the present Manoel was handing to her, and, stooping down, he whispered in her ear,
‘Yes, it is interesting, my dear, but you have work to do.’
She laughed then, and turned her face up; her action was swift and her cheek touched his chin. She bl
ushed adorably and said in some haste,
‘Oh, Manoel, do you think ...?’
‘It’s early to say, but I have a feeling that Lynn isn’t going to be in any hurry to leave us. A present for Senhora Mendonga,’ he added briskly, handing the parcel to Joanne. ‘And one for her husband.’
When all the presents had been given out and everyone was ready to leave, a young man from the village, one of Manoel’s most conscientious employees, asked that he round off the party with a ballad he had written on hearing of the engagement. As he spoke in Portuguese Joanne could not understand a word, and Manoel had to explain. Ricardo was also explaining to Lynn.
Manoel then nodded to the young man, who sat down on a chair and began playing his guitar.
‘The music is a Coimbra fado—quite well-known,’ Manoel said. ‘But Tomas has put some words to it especially for us. He calls it the Fado of Joanne and Manoel. Everyone stopped talking and the music of the guitar and the clear deep voice of Tomas echoed through the great high-ceilinged hall. Manoel sat down on the dais on which the tree stood, drawing Joanne down with him and retaining her hand.
‘He sings that all are delighted with the betrothal ... we are wished much happiness and long life ...’ Manoel paused to listen and then continued in a whisper, his lips close to her ear, ‘It’s the wish of everyone that we have an heir with his father’s virtues and his mother’s beauty—I don’t know about the former,’ he added with a soft laugh, ‘but there’s no doubt at all about the latter.’ His lips touched her hair, and his cool breath caressed her cheek. Emotion filled her and although she turned with the intention of making some remark, she stopped, for shyness overcame her. Tomas continued singing. Manoel translated for her, ‘And it is the hope that we shall be blessed with many more children, and that we can always laugh together in our joys and comfort each other in our sorrows.’
The fado came to an end; silence filled the room for a moment and then the applause rang out, continuing until Manoel rose and lifted a hand for silence. Joanne stood up; all eyes were on her and she saw only smiles and indications of goodwill until her eyes wandered to where Rosa was sitting on a couch, where she had been for most of the evening, talking to Dona Clementina. On the older woman’s face there was intense dislike; on Rosa’s there was undisguised hatred. Swiftly Joanne looked away, back to the smiles and admiring glances before her. In his own tongue Manoel thanked his guests for coming and then talked for a few minutes to the children, who were sitting on the floor in a half-circle, each holding his or her parcel, and a little string bag filled with nuts and chocolates and other confections. Then he said in English,
‘For the very beautiful fado both my fiancée and I thank you very much indeed.’
Cheers broke out; the Portuguese were the most friendly people in the world, Joanne decided, her own face flushed with pleasure. Then someone shouted in English,
‘When is the wedding to be?’
Manoel glanced swiftly down at Joanne and immediately raised his head again.
‘There’s no definite date fixed, but the month is January.’
Joanne gave a faint start and looked up. Manoel was smiling and after a little hesitation she responded. Rosa and Dona Clementina were gaping in disbelief and, watching her fiancé’s expression as he glanced across at them, Joanne sensed his satisfaction and relief.
They were on their own later and Joanne, flushed with happiness, admitted that the evening had excelled even the previous one.
‘You’re going to be a great success yourself, my dear. It’s very clear that you’ve won every heart.’ He took both her hands and drew her unresistingly to him. He was so tall and dark above her, and so close ... Joanne trembled and would have broken away, but he held her tightly in his embrace.
‘Are my kisses so very distasteful to you, Joanne?’ he asked, a curious inflection in his voice.
‘No,’ she whispered breathlessly. ‘Why should you say that?’
‘You don’t remember? After responding most satisfactorily, you then became so cool that I could only conclude you didn’t care for my kisses after all.’
‘Oh, that? Yes, I remember.’ She lowered her head as her colour heightened at the memory of the way she had revealed her emotions. And as there was no longer any necessity for silence she told him it was because she thought he had kissed her solely for Rosa’s benefit.
‘Rosa?’ He frowned in puzzlement. ‘I don’t quite understand you, Joanne?’
‘Do you remember, Rosa came along?’
‘So she did. But what has that to do with my kissing you?’ He held her away from him, his frown deepening.
‘I thought you knew she was there and had kissed me just for her benefit. You see, Manoel,’ she went on hastily as his puzzlement increased, ‘I overheard Dona Clementina and your stepfather talking, and I know about the promise you made to your uncle.’
‘I see ... You listened to their conversation?’
Joanne twisted her hands uncomfortably and then told him how it had happened.
‘I know I should have moved away,’ she added on a note of contrition, ‘but I just had to listen.’
‘That was natural, in the circumstances. In any case, you’d have to know some time—now that we’re to be married, that is.’ A thoughtful pause, and then, ‘So you know why I wanted to become engaged?’
‘Yes. And I know why you want to marry me.’ Unconsciously a little note of depression entered her voice. Yet she was not unhappy, far from it—but if only—
‘Do you, Joanne?’ Something in the way he said that brought her head up with a jerk. ‘But then you thought you knew why I kissed you.’
She quivered under his touch as his fingers caressed her arm.
‘Didn’t you—? Wasn’t it—?’
‘I kissed you, my lovely Joanne, because I wanted to, and I’m going to kiss you now for the same reason.’
CHAPTER NINE
LYNN was seated before the dressing table when Joanne knocked at her bedroom door.
‘Come in.’ She turned, smiling, and Joanne looked her over appreciatively.
‘Going somewhere?’ she inquired, without much expression.
‘To the cafe, with Ricardo.’ Twisting round in the chair again, Lynn picked up the comb. Joanne smiled to herself, visualizing the flush that had risen to her friend’s cheeks. ‘I’ve been thinking, Joanne, I really should be making a move for home.’
‘I’ve invited you to be my bridesmaid,’ exclaimed Joanne in surprise. ‘Or have you forgotten? The dressmaker’s coming to measure you tomorrow for your dress.’
‘I know I promised, Joanne,’ hesitantly. ‘But I’ve been here nearly three weeks. I’m a stranger to Manoel and feel I mustn’t impose on him like this.’
Ignoring that Joanne said, curiously,
‘Do you want to go home?’ She came further into the room and sat down on the bed.
‘No, not by any means!’ The words slipped out, followed by the more softly spoken, ‘Ricardo ...’
‘Yes?’
‘He—he doesn’t like the idea at all—though I said I must go,’ she added hastily. ‘We shall correspond, of course, and he says he’ll come over for a visit very soon.’
‘And you’ll just sit there, on your own, waiting for this visit?’ Watching her friend, and noting her changing expression, Joanne knew that Lynn’s thoughts were running on exactly the same lines as her own. Were she to leave Portugal now the affair with Ricardo could easily develop into a pen friendship, and finally come to an end altogether. ‘I shouldn’t trouble about going home yet awhile,’ Joanne advised. ‘Or bother your head about Manoel. He said himself that we could expect you to be with us for quite some time.’
‘He did?’ Lynn blinked at Joanne through the mirror. ‘Why should he say a thing like that?’
Joanne laughed.
‘It was fairly clear, at the Christmas party, that you and Ricardo were attracted to one another, and as you’ve been out with him every night since�
�’
‘Not every night!’
Shrugging, Joanne passed that off.
‘Stay, Lynn, for just as long as you like. Manoel said at the beginning I must tell you this, and he sincerely meant it.’ Absently she picked up a small gilt picture frame from the table beside the bed. Lynn had kept the photograph because her mother was on it ... but so was the boy to whom Lynn had once been engaged. ‘You’ve been a dutiful daughter—oh, I know that any daughter worth her salt would have done the same, and I’m not making a heroine of you. But you did make a sacrifice when you gave Derek up. Don’t throw away this second chance of happiness, Lynn, because there’s no need now. And you’ll never find anyone quite as nice as Ricardo—he’s charming, in addition to being extraordinarily good-looking.’ A faint smile hovered on Joanne’s lips as her thoughts strayed to those moments of her own uncertainty. She had felt sure her pleasant little emotion of warmth and content had been the first germ of love. At that time, she reflected, the arrogant Dom Manoel had been away out of reach, up on his lofty pedestal from where he had gazed down on her with a mingling of indifference and disdain.
‘If you’re quite sure he won’t mind?’ began Lynn. ‘I did think I’d look around for a job—if I stayed here, that was.’
Joanne’s smile deepened. She had a strong premonition that, should Lynn decide to remain in Portugal, the affair would develop so rapidly that it would not be long before Ricardo proposed.
‘Enjoy your stay,’ she advised. ‘Consider it a holiday for the time being. As I’ve said, Manoel expects you to prolong your visit.’
After putting the finishing touches to her hair Lynn rose from the stool and stood looking at Joanne for a moment in silence.
‘He’s a wonderful person,’ she said. ‘You’re very lucky, Joanne.’
‘I agree.’
‘You gave me to understand that he doesn’t love you,’ Lynn said awkwardly. ‘And I’m sure you should know ... but the way he treats you. ... It can’t all be for Rosa’s benefit!’