by Ives, Averil
His audacious dark brown eyes merely aroused in her an increased feeling of revulsion and dislike, and she turned as if to retreat along the corridor, but he put out a hand and strongly grasped her wrist.
"No, no, don't go! Don't leave me up here to grow bored and infuriated waiting for Inez! She is the loveliest thing in widows I've ever met, but as I've already observed, there are other lovely young women in the world!"
He bent as if he was actually going to attempt to kiss her, but she resisted him so determinedly that he had to abandon the intention. Nevertheless, he laughed, softly and with amusement, as she struggled unsuccessfully to free her arm, and as footsteps sounded at the end of the corridor he altered his tactics and captured her free hand„ carrying it up to his lips.
"Such little white fingers!" he said, gently, and to the onlooker he was merely overcome by a desire to offer homage—and as Portuguese men do not normally kiss the hand of an unmarried girl, and Fernando Queiroz had a reputation for seeking rather than offering anything, the moment was one of sufficient unusualness to halt the approaching footsteps for a bare half second. And then they came on.
"What are you doing here, Fernando?" demanded the Conde, his face dark with a strange, black kind of rage.
Fernando looked guilty.
"Must I really offer an explanation . . .?" and he glanced at Kathleen as if loath to involve her more than she was already, if somehow or other he could spare her.
Miguel didn't merely bite his lower lip, he seemed to tear at it. His displeasure was like an icy draught in the corridor, and Kathleen stood appalled. Surely he didn't think .?
But he avoided even turning his eyes in her direction, and all at once the mantle of his usual calm, cool and disdainful aloofness dropped on him again, and he said with nothing more than a note of distaste in his voice:
"Not since the explanation is so very obvious! But as my sister's apartments are in this corridor, Queiroz, and it is possible she may be on her way up to them at any moment, I would recommend that you remove yourself without delay. And you, Miss O'Farrel—" persistently avoiding looking at her, while his handsome face had much in common with austere museum marbles—"unless you have a particular wish to say goodnight to your brother and sister-in-law I think you might retire to your room."
For one moment Kathleen felt angry.
"Of course I would like to say goodnight—" she began. Then a sudden, strange sense of futility rushed over her—of inevitability—followed by a sensation of flatness and meekness.
"Although, if you would be good enough to do so for me, there is no real reason why I should go downstairs again," she said in a colourless voice.
The Conde bowed very slightly.
"Of course I will convey your goodnights!"
Fernando's eyes were watching her with a kind of mournful regret, and she knew this and was secretly furious with him. If only she dared say outright what he was doing in the corridor! But would the Conde even pretend to believe her when it was his sister who was involved?
"And tomorrow morning I would like to have a word with you--early, miss O'Farrell" Her employer's voice was clipped and icy. "As soon after breakfast as you can make it convenient. . . . That is to say, get someone to take over the temporary charge of the children! In the library," he added.
"Very well, senhor!"
But as she turned away and left the two men she felt so humiliated that she wondered whether it would be a good plan to walk out that night. Slip down now and join Peggy and Shane, and say she was going home with them!
Then she decided that that would clear up nothing. And in the morning she would clear up something! She wouldn't let the despicable Fernando Queiroz get away with it altogether . . . or, for that matter, Dona Inez, who, as a widow and a mother, should have known better than to encourage him!
CHAPTER TEN
BUT the first thing she received in the morning, even before the arrival of her breakfast-tray, was a note from Dona Inez which made her realise that the Portuguese woman was far more capable of protecting her interests than she was herself.
The note said simply, in beautifully-penned English characters:
"I have had word with my brother on the subject of you and Fernando, and I have tried to make him understand that you are very young, and therefore impressionable! Fernando should not have arranged to meet you after dinner, but young people do things that we staider creatures would never dream of, and I do not forget that Senhor Queiroz was only a school-boy when I married!
Be a little more discreet in your meetings in future, and if possible avoid my sitting-room!"
Kathleen went through the morning routine of bathing and dressing with her hands shaking with anger, and her breakfast-tray was left practically untouched. When she joined the children, who were always given their breakfast by Maria, she was in no mood to cope with their wildly high spirits, and all she could think was that the ground had been wiped from beneath her feet, and the clever Inez had chosen the safest way out to protect herself.
Certainly her brother, reading that note, would never believe it was part of a subterfuge.
", .. I have tried to make him understand that you are very young, and therefore impressionable!"
Kathleen felt her anger die, and a feeling of unreasonable depression take possession of her. She was being implicated in rather a mean little affair that to Fernando meant nothing, for, as he had admitted,
there were many lovely women in the world, and apparently he liked them all! It was possible that he appealed to Inez f ar more than Inez appealed to him, but that didn't excuse him, and it made of Inez a very unscrupulous woman. Not merely because she was willing to involve Kathleen, but because she knew that Fernando was practically betrothed to be married, and the inexperienced young girl who was in love with him had none of the weapons a more mature widow possessed. An extremely attractive widow, moreover, who made that particular young girl seem extra colourless!
Kathleen felt a little sick with helplessness, sympathy for the girl who, according to Inez, she was trying to rob, and the difficulty to really credit that the twins' mother could behave in such a way. Without any regard, apparently, for truth or other peoples' feelings!
As soon as she had helped Maria clear the nursery table, and had seen the twins settle down to amuse themselves with various favourite toys, she went downstairs to the library, and knocked on the heavily panelled door with the feeling that when it opened she would feel still more sick, and almost painfully apprehensive. But there was no response to her knock, and the door didn't open. She tapped a little more loudly the second time, and still more loudly the third time, but nothing happened. The Conde was quite plainly not in his library, and although she had imagined he would be waiting for her he obviously wasn't.
She went back upstairs to the nursery wing, not conscious of any relief because she had escaped being reprimanded for the time being, and aware instead of a rather leaden disappointment because the evil moment had had to be postponed. The twins were growing restless and demanding to be let out into the garden, and as it was a particularly beautiful morning Kathleen knew she couldn't keep them cooped up indefinitely. Besides, they were her responsibility and their health was important, so she took them down to the quiet corner of the grounds where they usually disported themselves at this hour of the day, and then learned
from Jerry that he had seen his uncle drive off in his car while she was on her way to the library.
Kathleen bit her lip. So he hadn't thought she was worth waiting for—even though, he had commanded her to attend him in the library!—and, as on another occasion, he had coolly broken an appointment he had made with her.
So much for the sort of opinion he had of her! A nursery-governess who flirted with his guests, and might really have to be dismissed before very long!
The morning seemed very long, and very hot, and just before lunch she sent the children in to have their hands and faces washed by Maria before being served wit
h their nursery lunch. She had more or less made up her mind that she would skip lunch for herself that day and go and sit in her own room, when the Conde's car swung up the drive and came to rest on the broad sweep before the house just as she was crossing it.
Sitting beside the Conde was Carmelita Albrantes, somehow managing to look extremely cool and composed in black relieved only by very slight touches of white. The tiny collar at her rounded throat, for instance, slightly stiffened like a Medici collar so that it acted as a frame for her face, and her gloves were of white lace, and her parasol when she stepped from the car and unfurled it to protect the sallow skin from the midday heat had insets of white lace, also.
An elegant young woman, who would never fail to be correct whatever the circumstances! Kathleen wished heartily that she could have avoided bumping into her just now, when she had the Conde smiling at her as he never smiled at anyone else—in Kathleen's experience —and declining to let go of her arm once she had alighted on to the gravel because she, too, wore absurdly high heels and she might twist her delicate ankle if he released her too soon!
Kathleen felt the self-conscious colour sweep into her face as she tried to slip past them, and she hoped ardently that they would ignore her. But Portuguese
politeness made that a vain hope, and even Senhorita Albrantes condescended to send her a little nod.
"You are the children's governess, aren't you?" she said. "I hope they are well this morning?"
Her voice was cool and perfectly amiable, but it was the voice of one who knew she was addressing a paid employee—and therefore a menial!
Kathleen replied hurriedly that they were perfectly well, and she deliberately avoided looking at the Conde, who, however, addressed her in very precise tones.
"We shall see you at lunch, Miss O'Farrel?"
No apology for having failed to be in the library at the appointed hour that morning, and only a glacial interest in whether or not they would see her at lunch. For one moment she very nearly said that she was lunching with the twins, but she knew that was against the rules, and she had to admit feebly that they would see her at lunch.
She disappeared upstairs to tidy herself, and didn't enter the sala for the aperitifs that she knew would be being dispensed before the meal was served. Normally she had a grapefruit when she had to submit to these occasions, but today she waited for the gong to summon them to the dining-room before venturing to the head of the stairs.
Carmelita and the Conde were already in the dining-room, and the Conde was carefully seating his guest at the table. Kathleen managed to slip quietly into her own seat before he could perform the same service for her. Inez, plainly, wasn't planning to join them.
The meal was the usual well-served, rather long-drawn-out affair, but Kathleen wasn't conscious of what she ate. She knew that she refused several dishes—in fact, most of the dishes—and occasionally her employer's eyes dwelt on her with a kind of remote gray-lay in their depths. She didn't see them, for she seldom looked up, but she could feel them alighting on her bent head and her scarcely touched plate, and more than once she was certain he was about to address her when Carmelita said something that interfered with his
intention, and he had to give his attention to his guest.
They talked mostly in Portuguese throughout the meal, and that made it unnecessary for Kathleen even to appear interested in the conversation, which she was quite certain didn't concern her in any case. Carmelita was the one who introduced all the topics, and when the Conde became particularly interested her large eyes sparkled and her voice grew several degrees warmer. Kathleen had the feeling that not merely was she in the way, but that the Portuguese girl expected her to withdraw at the earliest possible moment; and she decided not to wait for the dessert and the coffee, which was always brought to table at lunch time, but requested to be excused.
"But of course we will excuse you," Carmelita said, as if she was already mistress of the quinta. And the relief in her face was quite unmistakable.
The Conde stood up.
"You have made a poor lunch, Miss O'Farrel," he protested, his dark eyebrows meeting in a frown.
"I have had all I want, thank you!" she returned, and fled from the room before he could say anything further.
She had been terrified lest he would remind her that he had yet to have his talk with her in the library, and if he had done so in front of Carmelita, thus letting the Portuguese girl know that she was in disgrace for some reason, she didn't think she could have borne it. That would have been an humiliation that made her cheeks grow hot even as she ascended the stairs and let her mind dwell on it, in spite of the fact that it was an humiliation she had escaped.
But having settled the twins for their afternoon nap she went down again into the garden, to the, quiet corner where she knew she was unlikely to be disturbed. Maria had offered to give the children their fruit juice when they awakened, and because she had a headache she had accepted this gratefully. The dull ache behind her eyes was due to the anxiety she had felt all morning and the secret uneasiness that gnawed
at her, and the society of the twins could be a little exhausting under such circumstances. To be relieved of the task of looking after them for a whole hour, and that in the heat of the day, was something that made her feel exceedingly grateful to Maria.
The talk with her employer would have to come, she knew, and until she was finally sent for her anxiety was hardly likely to decrease.
But suddenly, as she sat there in the cool of the garden, with masses of colourful growth around her, a tree spreading protecting branches above her head, and a fountain tinkling musically in a tiled basin near to her, her agitation died. And in its place she was conscious of a righteous resentment that rose up from the core of her, and filled her whole being.
What right had Dona Inez to implicate her, and what right had the Conde to say he wanted to see her at a certain hour, and then either forget about it altogether or change his mind about the necessity for doing so? His indifferent attitude at lunch, and the fact that he had practically ignored her, had seemed to indicate clearly that he was not prepared to waste very much of his time on her, and she could understand that when Carmelita was practically clinging to his side. Hadn't he admitted that he hoped to marry soon and that his heart was irrecoverably lost, so naturally time spent with Carmelita was valuable time, and irksome people like nursery-governesses who were not even looking after his own children were outside his more important thoughts!
But that didn't make it any easier for the nursery-governess, and Kathleen had the right to expect an employer to abide by a decision he had taken. He had said he wanted to see her after breakfast; instead of which he had gone off and spent the morning with Carmelita, and then brought her back to lunch, and Kathleen was no nearer to knowing what sort of attitude would be adopted towards her in future!
She stood up, suddenly too incensed even to sit still, and the dull throbbing in her head made her look
a trifle white. She had heard the noise of a car gliding away from the front of the house fully ten minutes before and realised that the Conde had once more left the quinta behind him to return his luncheon guest to her home, which meant she would not be called upon to give an account of her behaviour the night before for some time yet. But instead of being relieved by the temporary reprieve she was overwhelmingly aware of a hopeless feeling of frustration, and as she turned towards the house this lent her a blind, defeated look.
"I thought I might find you here, Miss O'Farrel," the Conde said, and she looked almost violently startled as he appeared suddenly in front of her. "I have just been upstairs to the nurseries, and Maria told me you were in the garden. This, I believe, is one of your favourite corners of it, so it was here I came to look for you!"
Kathleen felt the startled pink colour drive away the pallor from her face. Her eyes, however, continued to have that rather dazed look in them.
"Have you been unwisely sitting in the sun?" Miguel de Cha
ves wanted to know rather sharply. "At lunch you obviously had little appetite, and when I came upon you just now you were as white as a sheet! What is wrong?"
Kathleen felt indignation bubble up in her. "Nothing is wrong," she answered, coldly. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with me, senhor!"
He frowned as he studied her, and then he drew her into the shade and told her to sit down on the garden seat where she had been sitting before.
"I thought you appointed the library as a suitable place for demanding an explanation of last night," she said.
His frown grew noticeably.
"I must apologise for not being in the library at the appointed time this morning, but an urgent telephone call took me away from the house."
Carmelita, she thought, the most irrational resentment seeping into every fibre of her being. Carmelita
dying to see you, and unable to wait! . . . And, of course, you were unable to wait to see her!
"In any case," the man said quietly, "there was no question of demanding an explanation. What I saw last night didn't require very much explanation, and my sister has thrown a certain amount of light on the incident since. What I would have done this morning, if I hadn't been called away, was warn you for the second time against a young man who has never been known to be serious about any young woman, and suggest that you behaved more circumspectly towards him in future! But having thought the matter over I wasn't going to raise the subject at all."
"You are kind, senhor," she told him, feeling as if indignation would choke her, "very kind!"
"And you," he said, "are very young!"
"So young," she returned, a little wildly, "that I don't honestly feel you can have sufficient confidence in me to continue to entrust me with the care of your nephews! And from my point of view I would far rather be relieved of their care, and allowed to go home to England! If you'll remember, senhor, this was to be only a temporary arrangement!"