by Jane Corrie
She did not venture out to join them but stayed in the lounge, for going by the fact that a tray of drinks had been laid out, she presumed they would shortly be gathering there for the customary drink before dinner
She filled in the waiting period by examining a small piece of exquisite pottery that she thought might be 'Dresden, and was just about to ascertain this by looking at the markings at its base when they arrived.
`Ah, Mary!' exclaimed Don Emilio. 'I hope we have not kept you waiting long?' he queried, and gave what she could only interpret as an appreciative look at her. He was pleased by her appearance and somehow managed to convey this to her without verbal comment; and Mary felt uplifted and glad that she had not let her pride prevent her from wearing the dress.
The girl who stood beside him favoured Mary with a critical examination, her dark and very lovely eyes did not echo the smile on her full red lips, and this Mary duly noted Behind her and still deep in conversation with Rafael was an elderly man who could have been the girl's father, for there was a certain likeness between them.
Whatever subject the men were discussing was broken off at a slight gesture from Don Emilio, who then carried out the introductions.
It was not until Mary held her hand out to shake the slim white hand of Senorita Isabel Juana Ruiz that she realised that she was still holding the small piece of pottery and she had to hastily replace it before accepting the proffered hand. She felt . embarrassed enough without glancing up to find Rafael's fastidious eyes upon her, and a slight flush mounted her cheeks. He had to notice that, hadn't he? she thought miserably.
The Ruiz family, Mary discovered, were old friends of the Alvarados family, and made her feel even more of an alien than before, although Don Emilio did his best to make certain that the conversation took place in
English and that Mary was able to follow and enter into whatever subject was introduced. He was not entirely successful in this, however, as Isabel would every now and again burst into her native tongue when speaking to Rafael in spite of a frowning Don Emilio.
It was not because she did not have a good command of English. She was perfectly articulate in the language, and Mary could only assume that she was determined not to be subdued by Mary's presence.
For Mary it was an uncomfortable meal, and she was glad when it was time to retire to the salon for coffee afterwards. Her discomfiture was increased when she saw Rafael pick up the piece of pottery she had handled earlier and move it from the position she had left it, to what she noticed with no little chagrin was its original
position
on a small antique table.
It had been done in an almost absentminded way, yet Mary was sure that here again he was underlying her inferior position in his father's house. She could look but not touch, seemed to be the message her highly sensitive feelings deduced from this action. Never again would she give him cause to pass such a message on to her, she vowed, and wondered satirically if it were permissible for her to sit down in such exalted. company!
When the story of the discovery of Enrique's son and the subsequent events that had culminated in Paul and Mary's arrival the previous day was exhausted, the conversation turned to other matters. Mary for one was distinctly relieved to have the subject dropped, and she was sure that she was not the only one who felt that way. Isabel had been very reticent on the subject, and going by her earlier animated contributions to the conversation directed mainly at Rafael, this lapse was
noticeable, at least by Mary, but not apparently by Don Emilio, to whom the discovery was nothing short of a miracle.
Now that the subject was changed Isabel reverted to her earlier sparkling form. Mary, sitting quietly on her own in an armchair opposite the lounger where Isabel and Rafael sat, was able to study them at her leisure, particularly as Don Emilio, who had elected to sit on a high backed chair next to his friend Senor Ruiz, was now deep in conversation with him on the merits of a new vintage recently introduced into the Alvarados range.
As far as Isabel and Rafael were concerned she might not have been present, she thought with a wry inward smile. No sooner was the thought there than Rafael suddenly turned towards her and. asked her if she swam. Mary was disconcerted for a second or so as the question had taken her unawares, but she answered politely enough, aware that Don Emilio had heard the question and was waiting for her answer too. She replied that she did, but she was not a strong swimmer.
Isabel had shrugged at this. 'I am not Olympic material either,' she said, giving Rafael a sideways grin for his benefit only. But I do manage to enjoy myself.'
'Good,' replied Rafael in clipped tones. 'We were thinking of having a bathing party this weekend. Enrique tells me he can be relied upon not to sink,' he added with a twist of amusement on his lips.
`That just about sums up his accomplishments in that line,' replied Mary with a smile. 'He needs a lot more practice before I would let him in on his own:
Whether or not it was her protective attitude towards Paul that suddenly turned what had been a conciliatory
attempt on Rafael's part back to hostility, Mary did not
know. She did know that the mention of. Paul had brought .back Isabel's reticence, and was pleased when she adroitly changed the conversation and spoke in a low voice to Rafael in Spanish.
By now Don Emilio had resumed his discussion with Senor Ruiz, and Mary realised with a spurt of anger that that had been the only reason Rafael had directed , that question at her. His father must have somehow wordlessly reminded him of his manners, and once he had made sure that Mary was being included in their conversation, he had been able to indulge in a long talk with his friend.
If it were not for hurting Don Emilio, Mary would have got up and walked right out of that room. She did not attempt to listen to whatever Isabel was saying to Rafael. If she had done there was a distinct possibility that she would have understood much of their conversation, but she was no eavesdropper. The very fact that Isabel had declined to use English proved that her words were for Rafael alone. It would not occur to her, thought . Mary, that the plain English woman was as conversant in her tongue as Isabel was in English.
As she watched Rafael answer something Isabel had said, she saw how his normally stern features were now relaxed, and it was with something of a start that she acknowledged that he was flirting mildly with the girl. She frowned on this thought; perhaps flirting was not the right word—teasing, perhaps? but anyway, enjoying himself.
Her attention then focused on Isabel, engaged at that moment in gazing up into Rafael's amused eyes, her red lips pouting at something he had said. There was no doubt that she was lovely, thought Mary, and could obviously afford to dress in a way that enhanced her
looks. Her dress was of a soft shade of pink; the material being some kind of silk that shone with every
movement
and fitted her slim body to perfection. Mary wondered how old she was; a little older than she had thought at first sight, she mused, and that meant that she must be in her early twenties, say twenty two or three.
Old enough, thought Mary, to be married and with a family, for Spanish girls married young, particularly the wealthy ones, care being taken to provide them with a husband equally suitably endowed. But Isabel was not married, and there couldn't have been a shortage of applicants for her hand, not with those looks.
Her gaze turned to Rafael; was he the reason she was still a senorita? He had said something about disappointing his father. Was it because he had failed to pop the question? The families were old friends; in all probability they had grown up together. Marrying someone you grew up with very rarely brought happiness, surmised Mary. Only on extremely rare occasions; you knew too much about each other for a start, she thought with an inward smile.
`Can I get you a liqueur, my dear?' asked Don Emilio gently, directing a furious look towards Rafael. 'I can recommend Tia Maria,' he added with a smile at her.
'No, thank you,' replied Mary! 'I 'still have
the delicious taste of your coffee with me, anything else would spoil it,' she smiled.
`Then I shall have some more coffee made for you,' exclaimed Don Emilio gallantly.
`Thank you, but I've had ample,' replied Mary. 'As a matter of fact I was just wondering whether I might
be excused. I'm not really used to late hours, you know,' . she tacked on hastily on seeing the look of consternation on Don Emilio's face and guessing the reason behind it.
Put like that there was not much he could do about it, but Mary could see that he was not entirely convinced that her reason to retire was not just an excuse to save herself from further embarrassment.
His kindly eyes searched the candid grey ones, but there was nothing in Mary's expression to suggest any ulterior motive behind her wish to retire. He gave her an indulgent smile. 'Very well,' he replied with a regretful note in his voice. 'For this one occasion, you may be excused. If I were younger and of a better constitution, I would suggest we took a walk in the garden before you retired,' his elegant hands spread out in an eloquent gesture. 'As it is, I must conserve my strength for future occasions.'
Grateful for her release from what was becoming an intolerable situation, Mary gave him a twinkling smile. 'Some other time, perhaps?' she murmured, and was rewarded by an answering smile from Don Emilio. Mary then made her escape, and was a little surprised at the way Rafael stood up as she took her leave, showing that he had some gentlemanly virtues left, even if it was only instinctive!
The calm she had forced upon herself in order to forestall Don Emilio's suspicions now evaporated, and she felt curiously flat and numb inside as she made her way back to her room.
When she had closed the door behind her she gave a sigh of thankfulness, that her ordeal was over, for it had been an, ordeal. As for the bathing party that Rafael had mentioned, if he thought he was giving her a treat—or that she ought to appreciate such consideration on his part—then he was off the mark. Far from
looking forward to it, she dreaded it. And as for that sulky little senorita —Mary's hands clenched into fists. Anyone would think she was a rival for Rafael's affections, the way she had treated Mary that evening. Oh, she had been very subtle about it, condescending too, and that was worse.
She might just as well have worn the rose print dress, Mary thought furiously, since her treatment could not have been much worse than what she would have suffered if she had worn it. At least, she thought angrily, it might have provided a reason for such downright condescending behaviour on the part of Rafael and Isabel.
When she recalled the way Isabel had continually lapsed into her native tongue in spite of Don Emilio's obvious wish that they should converse in English, Mary felt even angrier; Rafael could have done something about that, she acknowledged silently, but he also had no wish to pander to his father's code of behaviour, and had allowed Isabel to indulge in what could only be termed as an outright snub to Mary's presence.
Mary wished she had had the presence of mind to wish them goodnight in Spanish. Their reaction would have repaid all the discomfort she had endured that evening. She spent a few moments savouring this thought, then shook her head wearily. The 'tact that she had taken the trouble to learn Spanish would only give Rafael Alvarados another stick to beat her with. In his eyes there could be only one reason as to why she had applied herself to this task. He would reason that although her family had lost contact with his brother, they must have known that he came of a wealthy family, and had nursed hopes of Enrique eventually seeking them out, or alternatively, present
ing the child to him when they had traced his whereabouts.
The true fact of, the matter was that Mary and Sheila had been planning to take a holiday in Spain, having saved for months for what would have been, for them, a holiday of a lifetime. Fate, however, had intervened, and Sheila had met Enrique, and Mary had never had a chance to put her knowledge of Spanish to the test— not until now—but here again it appeared fate was having a say in the matter, and she was being forced to abide by the invisible yet entirely binding set of circumstances dealt out to her.
Mary drew a hand across her forehead. It was very dose in the room, and she was about to go across to the window and let in the night air when she remembered Don Emilio's remarks about a walk in the garden. Her lips twisted into an ironical smile on the thought that perhaps he was giving Rafael a prompting, hoping that he would offer to stand in for his father, and if so, he ought to have known better!
There was nothing to stop her acting on Don Emilio's suggestion with or without an escort, and she decided that a walk in the cool of the evening would certainly help to dispel her depression. She certainly wasn't going to help matters by sitting in her room dwelling on them.
With a, light cardigan over her shoulders she made her way down to the back of the villa and let herself out of the side door she had discovered during her wanderings earlier that day, and followed the same route back to the fountain.
It was as well that she had a good memory, as the night was a moonless one, yet the brilliant stars above her gave her just enough light to make out the garden
paths, and she was quite pleased with herself when she came upon the fountain now lit, with a soft blue light that enhanced its setting. Had she not found the fountain that morning it was doubtful whether she would
, have come across it at night, as the tall trees that screened it effectively hid what might have been a guiding light to its destination.
A sense of peace enfolded her as she sat watching the dancing droplets of the now pale blue water as it showered down from its propelled height. The fragrant perfume of numerous flowers drifted around her and she felt that she was in a place of enchantment.
There was nothing but joy and hope for the future in such a place is this.. Misunderstandings 'arid pride had no hold here. The fountain was manmade, but the night was eternal, and as lovely as the fountain was, without nature's backcloth; it was nothing. The same, Mary thought, could be said of her troubles. They would only exist if she allowed them to, if she let her pride take precedence over all else. As long as Paul— here, she mentally corrected herself, Enrique, was happy, and of that there could be no doubt, why should she concern herself with anything else?
She had no awareness of the passage of time, until she dimly heard the slamming of car doors some distance away, and although she was slow to move from her enchanted surroundings, she knew that it must be quite late and time for her to go.
With a reluctant sigh she got up and started on the return journey back to the villa. She would come here each night, she told herself, and whatever pinpricks the day had held for her, she was sure they would all be eased away in the midst of that silent magical atmosphere. She might have been being fanciful, but she
had felt very close to 'Sheila there. As if she was pleased that Mary had brought Enrique back to where he belonged, and no doubt his father would have felt the same way about things, she mused as she neared the villa.
The sound of voices stopped her in her tracks as she was about to cross a short stretch of lawn between her and the villa. She stood still for a moment or so to ascertain where the voices were coming from, and realised with dismay that Don Emilio and Rafael were on the patio, probably enjoying a last cigar before going to bed.
This in itself was not what was troubling Mary, but she would have to pass the lighted area of the patio before she could reach the villa. This Pact was born in upon her as soon as she had rounded the bend of thick shrubbery that separated, the garden from the villa precincts.
With an exasperated sigh she looked for some cover she could use to enable her to approach the villa unobserved, but there was none. She would simply have to wait until they had gone back into the villa again.
The smell of cigar smoke drifted towards her and was not unpleasant; she hoped they had not just lit their cigars but were on the point of finishing them. She frowned on the thought that Don Emilio ought not to be up so late, and then wondered
whether it was quite so late as she thought it was. Even if she had been wearing her watch she would not have been able to make out where the hands were pointing, since the lighted area just in front of her made her surroundings darker than they might otherwise have been.
`Are you going to marry her?' The question came loud and clear towards the startled Mary, who froze on
the spot when she realised that the men must have been standing near the french windows opening on to the lawn and had now moved on to the patio.
The question had been asked by Don Emilio, and in dismay Mary distinctly heard Rafael's abrupt, 'No, I have not changed my mind, Padre, and am not likely to.'
For the first time since Mary had learnt the Spanish language she miserably wished she had not been such a brilliant student. At least she could have remained in ignorance of their conversation. For one tense second she debated whether to make her presence known to them. She could slip silently back to the garden and come back and openly cross the lawn towards them. She could say something about taking up Don Emilio's suggestion of a walk in the garden—that was the absolute truth—but would not, she thought bitterly, be believed by the sceptical Rafael. He would be bound to wonder just how much of their conversation she had overheard.
She bit her lower lip in an agony of indecision; if she was going to do that she ought to do it now before anything else was said, as both men had fallen silent. But she'did not move; the thought of Rafael's all too discerning eyes held her utterly immobile. She was hopeless at brazening anything out, she would be unable to meet either his or Don Emilio's eyes, and would probably say something stupid that would completely give her away.
'I am not sorry,' Don Emilio replied, after apparently giving the matter some thought. 'She is too young for you—would always be. She's a pretty woman, but when you've said that, you've said everything.'