by Ives, Averil
"And she's very attractive?"
"Who? The aunt, or Carmelita?" Peggy rushed to the oven to rescue a batch of cakes that were beginning to burn. "Rumour has it that she's quite passable—Carmelita, I mean—and some say that the Conde plans to marry her one day. I wouldn't know, because I'm not in on these family matrimonial counsels."
"You mean that if it takes place it will be one of those arranged marriages? The kind of thing they have in Portugal?"
"Again I wouldn't know. But a lot of marriages in Portugal are arranged, especially when the families are important ones. Often the parents fix everything up when the victims are quite small, and sometimes it's a question of linking estates, or boosting failing fortunes. The Conde's fortunes are quite secure, so if he plans to marry Carmelita I'd say it's simply and solely because he wants to, or just possibly because he thinks she'll make a suitable wife. That again is important; a wife who knows how to conduct herself, and will be the right sort of mother for sons. And you can bet your life the Conde will want a son one day!"
Kathleen was aware of a curious feeling of revulsion —almost of actual nausea—at the thought of Miguel de
Chaves, with his brilliant good looks, marrying for the purpose of producing sons.
"Why?" Peggy looked up at her suddenly. "Why all this sudden interest in the domestic affairs of your em-employer? And, if it comes to that, why should your employer suddenly decide to invite us to the quinta?"
Kathleen was certain it was because the Conde had overheard Shane's criticism of the way she was being treated, and he wanted to make her feel more at home, and she heard herself saying: "Why shouldn't he? He met you once, and he told me he thought you were very charming—an opinion, I believe, you also formed of him! So why shouldn't he invite you to the quinta, and why shouldn't you accept?"
"Because, as I've explained to you, I haven't anything suitable to wear," Peggy replied dispiritedly. But she was obviously intrigued by the Conde's admission that he thought her charming. "Did he really say that about me?" she asked. "Or are you making it up?"
"I am not making it up," Kathleen assured her.
"Then you do have conversations sometimes? You are not as stiff with one another as you were?"
"We have conversations—sometimes," Kathleen admitted, and was annoyed because she could feel the uncontrollable colour rising to her cheeks. "We have also agreed to bury the hatchet for the time being, and he is satisfied with the way in which I am handling the twins. He took all three of us for a short drive the other morning, and bought us ice-cream in Amara. And had one himself!"
"What!" Peggy looked as unbelieving as if she had been informed that a maiden aunt had been seen dancing the tango. "You mean that he actually consumed ice-cream in public—under one of those café umbrellas!—with a couple of small boys and a nursery-governess, and no one else to protect him from the three of you?"
"There were only the four of us," Kathleen said, dimpling suddenly and rather deliciously, as if her sister-in-law's astonishment aroused in her a rather pleasurable sensation of humour. "Although I must admit it wasn't
under a cafe umbrella that we consumed the ices, but in a highly reputable hotel — Amara's leading hotel I believe it is! But to offset that the Conde wasn't in the least upset when Jerry let a large lump of ice-cream fall off his spoon, and land on his knee. He even offered his own handkerchief for the cleaning-up operations!"
"We-e-ll!" Peggy exclaimed, and was still staring at Kathleen as if she had never really seen her before when Shane came in sniffing hungrily at the air, and she had to break off her absorbed inspection in order to prevent him carrying away to his studio a whole plateful of cakes.
"But I'm working," he protested, "and I'm hungry!"
Gently but firmly she removed the plate from him.
"Listen, Shane! We're invited to dinner at the Quints Cereus! That is to say, you and I are invited. Naturally, Kathleen will be there. But I haven't a thing to wear. . Not a thing! What are we going to do about it?"
"Nothing," Shane replied, with masculine calm. "For one thing I have no particular desire to dine at the quinta—I've survived all this time without seeing the inside of it!—and new dresses are out just now. I require new shirts!"
"Your shirts can wait." Peggy gripped his arm. "Listen, darling, I've decided that we simply must accept this invitation, and that being so I've got to have a new dress! Got to, because we can't let Kathleen down! So will you drive me into Lisbon tomorrow morning, and I'll try and pick up something reasonably cheap?"
Shane looked definitely perplexed.
"I simply can't see the necessity. . . ."
Peggy's grip on his arm hurt like a lobster's tenacious tentacles, or, rather, claws.
"You can't, darling," his wife said softly, "because you're only a man. But I can! . . . Now, leave it to me! Perhaps after all a certain amount of extravagance will be justifiable for once, so I take back the bit about looking for something reasonably cheap!"
Kathleen gazed at her in the same sort of perplexity as her brother.
CHAPTER NINE
KATHLEEN had always been very proud of Shane, particularly in the days before he grew his little golden beard. But on the night of the Conde's dinner-party she thought he looked like a handsome Viking, with his tanned skin and dark blue eyes, and in his well-pressed dinner jacket. Really, Peggy had turned him out very well, and his linen was as pristine in its whiteness as the Conde's.
Peggy had been successful on her shopping expedition to Lisbon, and in addition to a new pearl-grey brocade dress that was just right for a young and blooming matron, she wore pearl-grey satin sandals and had her mother's real pearls round her neck. It was a very shapely neck, and the pearls were good, and Peggy's soigné darkness, that she also owed to the distaff side of her family, was far removed from the somewhat heavy darkness of several of the Portuguese women who were also the Conde's guests that night.
In fact, apart from Dona Inez and Carmelita Albrantes —and Kathleen—the women present were hardly a handsome selection, Peggy decided.
Kathleen was like a bright flower in the midst of cloudy darkness. Her dress was scarlet-flowered cream silk, with a scarlet velvet ribbon looped through the skirt. She looked young and delectable, clear-eyed and clear skinned—the sort of milk-an-roses skin only a young English girl of her age would be likely to possess—and by contrast with Senhorita Albrantes she was as vivid as a poppy in a cornfield. The gentle Carmelita—and Inez had inferred that she was very gentle—had distinctive pale hair that set her apart from her countrywomen, but her eyes were the mournful brown of a doe on a mountainside. Her complexion was slightly sallow, and her mouth drooped a little, but was very full and soft and red as a cherry. She was tall and graceful, and her black
lace dress had probably cost a great deal of money, but black didn't altogether become her.
Kathleen thought she might be a little difficult to dress, with that flax-pale hair and unhealthily-toned skin. And then was conscious of relief, because she really wasn't a beauty, although there was something about her that was undoubtedly appealing. Her eyes when she met those of her host flattered and invited and besought all at the same time, but she was quite skilful at lowering her lashes when admiration flashed into his.
And, there was no doubt about it, Miguel de Chaves admired Carmelite Alinantes. To what extent a mere observer would have been unable to tell, but when he put a glass of sherry into her hand before dinner he did so as if that hand was made of porcelain, and he was plainly solicitous about her comfort. The chair in which she had seated herself was straight-backed and antique, and although it enabled her to pose gracefully it was a little hard on her slim shoulders. The Conde placed a velvet cushion between them and the hard wood, and she thanked him with a doe-eyed smile.
Kathleen, on the other hand, he scarcely noticed during the early part of the evening. To Peggy he made himself charming, and Dona Inez went out of her way to be charming to Shane. It occurred to Ka
thleen that his virile good looks probably appealed to her.
In the huge sala before dinner the scene was one of glitter and surpassing elegance, which in the dining-room had much more of positive sumptuousness. Kathleen knew without looking at her that Peggy's eyes grew round with appreciation when she saw the long table, ablaze from end to end with priceless glass and silver and flowers of peerless perfection; but they grew even rounder when she was able to take in the splendour of the room's appointments.
For a 'summer villa'—and that was how the Conde looked upon the quima — it was wonderfully luxurious, and the evidences of wealth were just a shade depressing to one who had sacrificed her husband's need for shirts to the beauties of a pearl-grey evening-dress. The only
comforting thought Peggy had was that if they were invited again the dress would prove its value.
She looked along the table at her sister-in-law and felt her heart warm because she was so young and fresh and appealing. And then she looked into the dark, devastatingly handsome face of her host, who had placed her surprisingly near to him at the table; in fact, she had the honour of sitting at his left hand, while Senhorita Albrantes sat at his right, and wondered why she and Shane had been invited at all.
For a year they had lived in Amara, and this was the first time they had been guests inside the quinta. Was it anything to do with gratitude because she had provided him with a governess for his troublesome nephews? Or was it because he wanted Kathleen to feel that her social status was not so low that her relatives were permanently excluded from all social functions?
Or was it something else to do with Kathleen?
The Conde met her eyes, and as if he realised she was being vexed by an unanswerable question he smiled and lifted his glass. It was glowing with one of the finest wines of Portugal, and above it his eyes were deep and dark and faintly mystical.
"To our better acquaintance, Senhora O'Farrell" he said. "You and your husband must visit us often!"
Farther down the table Shane also felt perplexed, but when he saw that smiling look in the Conde's eyes as they met his wife's he began to feel a little uneasy as well. Ople him Kathleen was toying with the rich food on her plate, and as if she was a magnet who drew her gaze her eyes went constantly to Carmelita Albrantes. Carmelita—who was sitting on the right hand of the host! The place of honour!
Already Kathleen seemed slightly changed to him. She was not as relaxed, as cool, as carelessly poised as when she first arrived in Portugal. There was a slight tenseness round her mouth, and every time her look shifted from Carmelita to the man who paid her a salary to look after his nephews the awareness in her watchful eyes was not merely of her surroundings. She was not altogether happy
about the bond she had established between the Conde and Carmelita. So much Shane was certain about.
And then he felt a sharp prick of anxiety. Kathie was one of the most sensible girls he had ever known, and she would never even for a moment begin to think of the Conde as anything other than employer. Or would she? The anxiety persisted. Peggy was always teasing her about falling in love—about waiting for 'Mr. Right'. But 'Mr. Right' and Miguel de Chaves could never be incorporated in the same person for Kathie. For one thing, it was rather more than an unfounded rumour that he was going to marry Carmelita.
After dinner Kathleen was conscious of as much relief as her brother when they returned to the sala, and coffee was handed round. Somehow these Portuguese meals seemed to spread themselves out interminably, particularly when there were guests. And although it had been pleasant having Shane and Peggy at the same table with her, it had also been for some reason a good deal of a strain. Perhaps it was the awareness that she and her relatives were not of the same social status as the Conde and his sister and the majority of their guests.
Looking at Carmelita Albrantes, and recognising her confidence and her faint air of being perfectly assured that she really was the most important guest—the most welcome guest—in spite of the slight insipidity of her appearance, Kathleen didn't want to be patronized by her employer. She didn't want favours bestowed on her, and her relatives invited just because she was proving herself much more useful than had been anticipated at the outset; and as the Conde continued to take very little notice of her she would have liked to slip away up to her room and take Peggy with her and persuade her and Shane to leave early.
Not that Shane, she thought, would need very much persuasion. He was never happy in a dinner jacket, and she was certain he was rebelling against the slight constriction imposed by a stiff white collar and a bow-tie, and the charms of Dona Inez were hardly likely to impress him. But Peggy looked perfectly happy as the deli-
cate porcelain cups of coffee circulated, and the atmosphere grew even more opulent with the scent of expensive cigars and specially blended cigarettes, and the French perfume of some of the ladies. Kathleen could feel her settling down to really enjoy the conversation she was having with an elderly dowager who couldn't think why they hadn't met before, and was likely to suggest further meetings before the evening ended.
For Peggy had to live in Amara, and she was a social soul. She would enjoy being invited out.
Carmelita returned to her straight-backed chair, and the host established himself just behind it, where he could talk to her across a very white shoulder and watch the diamond ear-rings flashing in her small, delicate ears. She certainly had a very delicate bone structure, and her mouth was undeniably lovely. Kathleen, watching from a seat near one of the several tall windows, had to admit that it was first and foremost a seductive mouth, and that when Carmelita was animated the pathetic droop vanished. She was animated tonight, and especially so when her brown eyes encountered Miguel's. When he lighted a cigarette for her she seemed to seize the opportunity to gaze right into his eyes. When his hand accidentally touched hers Kathleen knew she didn't really regard it as an accident.
And very likely it wasn't. Very likely he was trying to think up an excuse that would enable them to be alone together: after about half an hour they disappeared together into the deepening dusk of the garden.
Kathleen stood up the moment they left the room, and slipped upstairs to the Night Nursery to make certain her two charges were sleeping soundly. They were, the nightlight between their beds burning away gently, and there was not the smallest excuse for her to linger. Nevertheless, she stayed, feeling happier with the two small sleeping figures than she did downstairs in the magnificent sala, where any conversation that was addressed to her was of a purely polite order (or so she imagined).
After a time she began to be afraid that her presence might wake the children, so she went along to her own
room and, still with the idea of delaying her return downstairs, combed her hair and lightly powdered her nose. She was moving along the corridor which led to Dona Inez's apartments, and which would take her back to the head of the main staircase, when a figure emerged from a door at the end—Dona Inez's sitting-room door —and put a finger to his lips.
Kathleen was so surprised that she thought at first she was imagining things. Then Fernando Queiroz moved softly towards her.
"Senhorita," he said, in a compelling whisper. "Senhorita!"
She stood and waited for him to come close to her, and her eyes were wide with the astonishment she felt.
"Senhorita O'Farrell" He put a finger to his lips, in the same way and for the same reason that Jerry had done once before. "It is lucky for me that it is you and no one else! Maria swore you were all downstairs in the soda, but one cannot trust these maids. And Inez has already kept me waiting far longer than she promised not to do!" He glanced at his watch in the dim light of the corridor. "A full half hour! Surely she could have slipped away from the interminable coffee-drinking before this?"
"You mean—" Kathleen was afraid she gaped at him—"you mean that you are up here waiting for Dona Inez?"
"Why, of course!" She thought his eyes twinkled with confident audacity. "For whom else would I be waiting in
Inez's own sitting-room? Although it is true that I also hoped I might catch a glimpse of you, too!"
Kathleen thought of the girl his friends expected him to marry, and a gust of pity swept over her.
"I think I understand why you were not invited to dinner," she said.
"I am very frequently invited to dinner, but tonight I was excluded—quite pointedly excluded! Inez made up for it by suggesting we should have a quiet talk in her room, and I can't really think why you should look at me in that big-eyed, reproachful way. They are extra-
ordinarily lovely eyes"—his voice softening into a caress
—"and their blueness makes me think of twin blue lakes.
But the coldness in your voice seems a little unmerited."
He moved even closer to her.
"I meant it when I said that I hoped I would see you, beautiful Irish Kathleen! You are Irish, aren't you?" She backed away from him.
"My father was Irish." The eyes he described as twin blue lakes regarded him with revulsion, however. "Have you forgotten that you are practically engaged to be married, Senhor Queiroz?"
He made a slight gesture with his hands and shoulders.
"In Portugal everyone is engaged to be married who has passed beyond the stage of adolescence," he told her, "and is not already married! These things are arranged in our cradles, as you probably know. For reasons —usually of finance!—we fall in with the arrangement, but the heart is something no one can school or order to incline itself in a certain direction! And my heart leapt quite violently in my breast when I first set eyes on you, and the smallest encouragement would result in it leaping right out of my breast and landing on the carpet at your feet!"