by Susan Barrie
When Mrs. Ruddock arrived, would she be given the place of honour at the host’s right hand, or would that still
be reserved for his fiancee?
It was not a particularly sparkling meal, with lively conversation seldom flagging for a moment, for Angela was by no means at her ease lunching under such conditions. She found it a taxing experience dining with him in a restaurant, where there was music to divert them, and other people around them; but here, in his own house, with him acting the part of thoughtful and attentive host, it was almost too much.
Although she kept her eyes almost permanently lowered throughout the meal, she had the feeling that he watched her openly on occasion, and that there was rather unkind amusement in his eyes. He knew she was not enjoying herself—not even the excellent and varied dishes that were carried to the table from the side-table—and he also knew she was not making the smallest effort to be an entertaining guest—or fiancee, if it came to that. And he also knew she was brooding on the thought of the arrival of Mrs. Ruddock and her friends, and that brought an inscrutable look into his eyes.
‘Such a pity I did not order champagne,’ he murmured, since she declined resolutely to sample any of the wines and stuck to her English favourite, a cool fruit drink. ‘But there will be champagne tonight, when Mrs. Ruddock is here!’ While she was pouring out coffee for him at the dining-table, she couldn’t refrain from giving her curiosity a little ventilation.
‘Why do you call her Carmelita? ’ she asked.
He smiled.
‘Didn’t you ask me that before?’
‘I said that I thought it was rather an absurd name for someone who is not in the least Spanish. I don’t think I actually asked you why you call her Carmelita.’
Without her asking him to do so he selected and pared for her a gloriously ripe peach from the fruit bowl, and set
it on her plate in front of her before he made the least attempt to satisfy her curiosity.
‘It somehow suits her. I cannot tell you why, but to me Willow does not suit her half so well. What do you think?’ he enquired conversationally, as he started to prepare a peach for himself.
‘I think both names are—theatrical. She is certainly tall and willowy, and therefore Willow is perhaps quite a good name for her; but as I am half Spanish myself I don’t like to hear her called by such a name as Carmelita.’
‘Ah!’ he exclaimed, as if she had thrown light on something that had previously puzzled him. ‘So you do, after all, acknowledge that you have some Spanish blood, and it is a fact that that blood, which is not shared by Mrs. Ruddock, resents having some Spanish quality bestowed on her. Well, in deference to your feelings in this matter, I will, while she is here, call her Willow—if that will make you happier. I can keep the Carmelita for occasions when you are not present and your ear is unlikely to be offended! ’
Angela lifted indignant white eyelids and stared directly at him. She thought that he smiled coolly, with the blandest form of amusement; and then, as the meal was ended, suggested she retired to her room for a siesta.
‘Perhaps after tea I will take you for a bathe,’ he said, ‘although on the whole it might be better if you wait until morning, as I can’t have you collecting heat-stroke. The mornings—the very early mornings—are deliciously cool on this coast, and I think you will find a bathe invigorating then. Besides, your grandmother might approve more if the other members of the party are with us. I happen to be aware that Dona Miranda is a great stickler for what she believes to be correct.’
Dona Miranda’s granddaughter was very well aware of this, too, but at the same time she thought that a bathe in the cool of the evening would have been delightful. Thinking the matter over while she rested in her room, the green sun-blinds only partially drawn over the open windows because she disliked to be enclosed, and the Spanish method of sealing oneself in in the heat of the day did not appeal to her at all, she decided that she could steal out by herself after tea and make her way down to the beach, with those enchanting deep mauve and emerald green rocks littering it, like monsters on an alien shore, and have a bathe all by herself, without anyone being aware of it.
She was a strong swimmer, and it seemed absurd to be within actual hailing distance of the sea and not actually in it. The heat was certainly intense outside the windows, and the gardens positively swam in the violent ultra-white light. She marvelled that such things as roses flourished out there in that brazen glare, and turned to look at the enormous vase of gorgeous, heavily scented dark red roses that had found their way to her room while she was lunching with Felipe. She wondered whether the same person who had borne them to her room had also carried a similar vase of yellow roses to Mrs. Ruddock’s room, and had considered that the distinction between a fiancee and a guest was not being exactly over emphasised. It was true that red roses had a particular significance in some people’s minds, but others preferred yellow ones. Therefore, it was simply a matter of preference....
She exerted herself in the afternoon heat to walk across the room and detach one of the red roses from the vase, and she inhaled the perfume of it thoughtfully for several seconds. Then she replaced it in the water, just as thoughtfully. She was not herself able to make up her mind about her own preference for red or yellow roses.... But at least these were particularly splendid specimens.
She supposed she must thank Felipe politely for them when she saw him again.
She decided to postpone her first bathe in the enticing blue sea that so tempted her whenever she set foot on her balcony, at any rate until the following day, and went along to see her grandmother when she felt reasonably certain her rest period was over. Dona Miranda was sipping tea with lemon when she entered her room, and although every chink of sunlight was rigorously excluded from the room as if it was a very dangerous enemy the dimness inside the handsomely furnished apartment was rather pleasant, and in it Angela could see that her grandmother was completely rested.
‘Ah, child,’ she exclaimed, as Angela closed the door, ‘I was thinking about you just now, and wondering what you are going to wear to-night.’ Angela shrugged her shoulders slightly.
‘Does it matter?’ she asked. ‘All my clothes are new and attractive, and it might be the simplest method of making a choice if I just run my hand along the row inside the wardrobe and pick out the one I grasp hold of first.’
Dona Miranda looked noticeably irritated. ‘Child,’ she reproved her, ‘there are moments when I despair of you! You are about to be married to a most attractive man, and yet you think it is quite unnecessary to do anything at all to please him. Don’t you feel in the slightest degree flattered that he has selected you for his bride?’
‘No,’ Angela answered, and sat down on the side of her grandmother’s bed while she smiled at her engagingly to make up for the apparent ungraciousness of her answer. Dona Miranda looked at her long and critically. ‘You think the advantages are all on his side?’
‘I only know that I did not ask him to marry me, and I would be quite content if he suddenly released me from the engagement, and I could contemplate marrying someone else—when I felt like marrying someone else!’ she added provokingly.
Her grandmother frowned very blackly at this.
‘That is the sort of thing I certainly do not like to hear you say,’ she replied coldly. ‘For one thing, it is most unfair to the man you are to marry, and for another ...’ She broke off, as the sound of a car entering the courtyard below reached her ears. ‘The other guests?’ she enquired, her alert glance following her granddaughter as the girl moved sinuously to the window and peered through the slats of the closed shutters into the courtyard below. ‘They have arrived, yes?’
‘They have arrived, yes,’ Angela answered.
Dona Miranda spoke briskly.
‘Wear the white watered silk to-night, Angela, and the pearls I gave you on your last birthday. Take particular pains with your appearance tonight, if only to please me. Is that understood? ... I wish it! �
��
‘Of course.’ Angela smiled at her as if she was humouring her, could think of no real reason why she shouldn’t humour her grandmother in this respect, and then made for the door and her own room.
A maid was in the bathroom running a bath for her, and she herself lifted the white watered silk out of the wardrobe. She took all the necessary pains to ensure that, when she finally stood before her mirror and recognised that she was ready, and that there was virtually nothing more she could do to herself that would improve the reflection given back to her from the mirror, her grandmother would be satisfied when she saw her. And far from wishing to please Don Felipe it never even occurred to her to wonder whether he liked her in white, or whether he might be of the opinion that she wore too much of it, and that it had the effect of rendering her slightly insipid.
She delayed so long over her toilet that by the time she descended to the ground floor of the villa the others were all in the main sala, and being regaled with sherry and more potent refreshment. Her grandmother was ensconced in the seat of honour at the elbow of the host, and Mrs. Ruddock was standing in the middle of a beautiful Oriental rug and declaring that the colours in it were quite perfect. She was apparently an expert on Oriental rugs, as well as china and glass, and everything in the long, cool room appeared to delight her.
Angela was glad, as soon as her eye alighted on her, that she hadn’t worn her apple green dress with the crystal embroidery, for Willow Ruddock was wearing a daring shade of emerald green, and about her slender throat was a quite spectacular diamond necklace. In order to attract attention to the latter she toyed with it carelessly with the tips of her shapely white fingers, and each movement of her hands also drew attention to the matching bracelets she wore on her graceful wrists, and if this display of collateral was anything to go by she had no need, when and if she contemplated remarrying, to marry a man for his worldly wealth and any personal advantages of that sort.
It was quite plain that she was very well endowed as it was.
Johnny Hainsforth, who had been following in her shadow in a most devoted way on the occasion that Angela had first met her in Granada, was also occupying the middle of the Oriental rug, and in that way standing as close to her as he could get, and her two other friends had also accompanied her. It was quite clear that they had considered it beyond their powers to turn down this invitation, and Angela gathered that they were prepared to stay for at least a week if their host could put up with them for that length of time.
Dona Miranda looked down her aristocratic nose at them, as if she recognised them immediately as nothing to do with her world, but the appearance of Mrs. Ruddock seemed to interest and even intrigue her. She condescended to put a few rather leading questions to Willow, and when she discovered that the widow spoke Spanish, conversed with her for a short while in that tongue, although she quickly reverted to English either because it was less exhausting for her personally, or as an act of politeness which she felt was demanded of her.
Angela managed to slip quietly into the room without anyone save her grandmother noticing her until she had actually been standing beside one of the windows for a full minute, and then she declined anything to drink when Felipe sought to put a glass of sherry into her hand.
At the same time his eyes roved over her without revealing either interest, appreciation or criticism—which was virtually impossible, anyway, since she looked very youthful, slender, and as fresh as a half-opened white rosebud.
‘You are late,’ he commented. ‘I was beginning to wonder whether or not you intended to join us.’
Angela both looked and felt surprised.
‘I have been standing here for nearly a minute,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think you noticed me.’
He glanced at his watch.
‘Exactly forty-five seconds,’ he said. And I noticed you the instant you appeared in the doorway.’
Angela had been speculating considerably about the possible seating arrangements at dinner, but it certainly surprised her when she found she was given the place of honour at his right hand, while Mrs. Ruddock was relegated to his left hand. Dona Miranda was asked if she would occupy the seat at the foot of the table opposite his own, and this recognition that she was temporarily fulfilling the position of hostess seemed to please her.
It put her in a good mood for the long-drawn-out meal that followed, and Mrs. Ruddock and her three companions received somewhat kinder treatment from her than they might otherwise have done. Angela did not need to be told that her grandmother was resenting their inclusion in the party largely because Mrs. Ruddock was so exceptionally personable, and with the knowledge that her granddaughter was about to contract a matrimonial alliance with the man who had invited her this made Dona Miranda just a little wary. She had no reason whatever to suspect the absolute integrity of Don Felipe Martinez, and his family background rendered it impossible for him to do anything that would cause any single one of his numerous relatives to elevate so much as a corner of an eyebrow.
But she was sufficiently worldly-wise to acknowledge that a man was, after all, a man, and the very fact that he continued a friendship with such a one as Willow Ruddock, after the death of her husband who could have been the main reason for the friendship in the first place, was a circumstance which might have been viewed with suspicion had anyone other than Don Felipe been involved. But the fact that it was Don Felipe, and her future grandson-in-law, lulled all suspicions.
She had, however, been conscious of a distinct sensation of shock when Mrs. Ruddock was first presented to her, and she felt vexed with Angela for not making it absolutely clear that the woman was an adventuress. She must be an adventuress or she would not accept invitations from men like Don Felipe when they had just announced their intention of marrying.
If only Angela, who was ridiculously reticent, had talked more about the quality of her looks, and more important even than her looks her faintly challenging air of looking upon the world as her oyster, and old-fashioned martinets like Dona Miranda rather amusing.... Well, she might have had something to say to her future grandson-in-law before they left for the Casa Martinez. But now that they were here it would be bad taste, and most insulting to the host, to behave as if she was already looking askance at his old friend’s widow, and therefore she sought to appear more affable than she was actually far from feeling.
She led the conversation at dinner into channels that could offend no one, and put no great strain on the English visitors, who were, after all, virtual strangers to Spain and must not be given a bad impression of it. But afterwards she saw to it that it was Angela who poured out coffee in the sala—and, incidentally, did it very gracefully and composedly, and in a way that reflected excellently on her Swiss finishing school. And she also saw to it that Angela could not possibly be ignored by thrusting her into the midst of the others by the simple expedient of requesting her to relate certain stories of Spanish folk-lore for the benefit of the strangers, while Don Felipe looked on in faint but obvious amusement because Angela obeyed her grandmother’s commands so readily, while plainly having little relish for the prominence that was thus thrust on her.
Nevertheless, she acquitted herself very well, while her voice was so clear and attractive and English that he actually found himself listening quite attentively for any repetition of its various cadences.
Mrs. Ruddock could not have looked more bored, but she strove to conceal it occasionally by smiling at Angela in an indulgent fashion. Johnny Hainsforth, although only too plainly a lifelong admirer of Willow, also regarded Angela with admiration, which was sufficiently discreet to cause no offence to her fiance; and the other two guests spent the evening exclaiming delightedly over the various magnificent antiques with which the Casa Martinez was filled.
Angela went to bed when her grandmother retired, and she had no knowledge of how soon the others sought the comfort of their high Spanish beds.
She knew that Mrs. Ruddock smiled still more indulgently when the a
utocratic voice of Dona Miranda insisted that the bride-to-be had had a sufficiently long day and should be glad to retire, and there was no concealing the incredulous amusement in Willow’s smoky-grey eyes when the host simply bent and saluted the girl’s finger-tips with courtly grace before wishing her a perfectly cool good night.
Even Johnny Hainsforth looked surprised, as also did the other two guests, who were striving to behave in a manner they felt was expected of them. But plainly everyone was struck by the inescapable fact that Don Felipe and the girl who was shortly to become Dona Felipe were as good as strangers in their attitudes to one another.
If anything happened to prevent the marriage, neither of them would be acutely distressed.
CHAPTER VII
Angela went to bed resenting the fact that she had been placed in an impossible position. She didn’t blame her grandmother, but she did blame herself for being such a disgrace to her father’s memory as to submit without any effective protest.
She remained awake for half the night in the strange, cool room that struck her as extraordinarily inhospitable, and awoke with the sunrise to the decision that she took at the moment of waking that she would make her way down to the beach and enjoy her first bathe in the limpid sea while nobody else was up and about.
It was such a glorious morning that for a short while her cares and her resentments melted away as she floated and struck out in a leisurely manner in the water that felt like sun-warmed silk. She had bought herself a white bathing-suit before she left and it suited her admirably, particularly as she wore no cap and her warm golden hair floated out behind her on the water. She decided she had plenty of time to dry it and then shampoo it before breakfast, and as she always set it herself there would be no disadvantage to her immersing it in this manner.
And she needn’t join the others until after breakfast. She and her grandmother always breakfasted in their rooms when they were at home, and she saw no reason to change her habits because she was the guest of her fiance.