by Ives, Averil
Looking up at him she saw his eyes grow strangely dark.
"If you'll remember, senhorita, you gave me your promise to take charge of my nephews until they were ready to go to school!"
"Yes, but—" She looked away and bit hard at her lower lip. "I think things are different now!"
"Because an impressionable young man kissed your hand last night?"
"Because you believe that I arranged to meet him where I—where I did meet him!.. .
He looked down at the green turf on which he was standing, and for an instant his expression was quite inexplicable to her. Then he said with an odd touch of gravity:
"I suggest that we say no more about last night! My sister has interceded on your behalf, and after all
you were not guilty of a crime. You are— as I think we are all agreed!—young, and possibly young Queiroz has a way with women which is hard to resist," rather drily. "Even Inez put in a special plea for him, otherwise I would forbid him the house."
But this was too much for Kathleen; that she should be linked with a casual young man like Fernando was bad enough, but that she should require the intervention of someone like Dona Inez to gain her a reluctant pardon from this autocratic Portuguese landowner was more than her Irish blood would stand.
"I don't think you need concern yourself with my youth, senhor," she said, standing up and facing him stiffly, "and neither do I expect you to make allowances because of it. Although you may find it difficult to believe, I am not so susceptible that I am likely to be swept off my feet by a hand-kissing young man and so far as I am concerned you can forbid him not merely the house but the entire area! It will make not the smallest difference to me!"
She thought that his lips set a little grimly.
"In England, perhaps, these little 'affairs' mean nothing very much? You are accustomed to what you call hand-kissing' young men, and have discovered the art of dealing with them?"
"Perhaps," she agreed, because she didn't greatly care what she said just then.
His eyes went very dark, and very cold.
"In that case there is nothing much more to be said, save that I would like to remind you that everyone expects Queiroz to marry a young girl to whom we are all very much attached, and if you are only amusing ourself will you please bear in mind that your idle interest in her future husband may cause that young girl a lot of heartache."
"I will bear it in mind, senhor," she said, and then turned away. "And now that you have decided to overlook my offence, may I go?"
He gazed at her with sudden perplexity — in fact, something that obviously troubled him more than mere perplexity.
"I do not understand you," he said. "To me you do not look like a young woman who—"
"Would steal away from a dinner-party in order to keep an assignation with a young man she hardly knew—? And in her employer's house!" she finished for him, suddenly turning cold blue eyes upon him. and gazing at him as if she thoroughly disliked him. "It does sound a bit tall, doesn't it? But you have put it all down to the fact that I am young?" She bit her lip angrily. "May I ask one question, senhor?"
"Of course," he answered, gravely.
"Just what did you say to my brother and sister-in-law last night? Did you make it clear to them that I was in temporary disgrace?"
"Naturally not." He sounded honestly shocked. "That is the very last thing I would have done!"
"Even though you were the one who 'caught me out'?" She didn't care if she sounded hard and vaguely insolent. She was still smarting under the injustice of not even being requested for anything in the nature of an explanation. Just because she was a governess, and young, it was accepted that she was weak and unreliable! "That was very forbearing of you, senhor! But I have never yet had to be reported on by an employer to my relatives, so perhaps it wasn't so forbearing after all!"
Because she was gazing straight at him she could see the look of surprise that swept into his handsome dark face, and it gave place to another look she found it hard to understand. For one instant she could have sworn that she had somehow got below his guard and injured him in some purely superficial way. She even thought that a tiny tinge of colour rose up under his olive skin.
"That rather sounds as if I was spying on you last night," he said, very quietly, "and as if I left the sala to find out precisely what you were doing upstairs.
Why you thought it necessary to remain away from my guests for some considerable while!"
"When I left the sala," she flashed back at him, "you had already left it! You couldn't have known when I decided to leave, because you were in the garden with Senhorita Albrantes!"
"So?" he said, and she was the one who suddenly coloured brilliantly.
"I—I saw you both—leave .
"And you were feeling a little bored at the time," with that sibilant softness he could adopt at times. "And that was the reason why you happened to be observing us?"
"I—I . she stammered again. "I wasn't
bored . . ."
"Then perhaps you felt a little neglected?"
"I had no right to feel neglected! ... And of course I wasn't!" she added hastily. "There was no question of neglect."
"And you knew that Fernando was waiting for you upstairs?"
"Fernando?" For an instant she was off her guard. "I had no idea I would run into Fernando." Once more she turned away. "May I go now? It isn't part of Maria's duties to look after the children, and they will have had their nap."
"Certainly you may go," he returned with a stillness in his voice that made it impossible for her to guess whether he had noticed her admission or not — and, what was more important, whether he believed it if he had noticed it. "But before you do so I should like to be assured that you are feeling perfectly well today?"
"I am perfectly well, senhor."
"And you don't find this climate trying? The heat, I mean?"
"On the contrary, I am beginning to be convinced that I shall miss it very much when I go home to England."
"At the moment you are in Portugal!"
"Yes, senhor."
Blue eyes and dark, queerly flecked grey ones stared at one another, and then as Kathleen lowered hers she felt her heart start to thump.
"And England is quite a long way away!"
"Yes; it was quite a long way away!" And the life she had led in England seemed farther away still!
"I venture to predict that we will keep you in Portugal," the Conde remarked composedly. "Like your sister and your brother you will stay here. You may even marry here!"
"I — I don't think I shall ever marry!" she said rather foolishly.
He smiled.
"I should say there is no question but that you will marry. A young woman like you will have to do so in order to justify her existence — and her attractiveness!"
She heard herself asking with an anxiety that horrified her when she thought about it afterwards, and quite without the volition of her will:
"When you marry, senhor—and you inferred that you might do so soon! — you will hardly be likely to keep your sister's children with you, and therefore you will not need to employ a governess. In that event — and of course I understand that I shall have to find another position then! — will you make the arrangements for Jerry and Joe's schooling?"
He continued to smile at her, his eyes a little amused, but his shapely mouth curiously softened.
"When I marry I don't anticipate making very much alteration in my household. My sister will probably live elsewhere, but I think she would prefer it if the boys stayed with me until I judge they are ready for school. That may not be for some little while yet, because of their early unbringing. And I feel sure they will like to have you near them. Therefore I shouldn't think too much about looking for another position, if I were you. There are always vacancies to be filled, and if you like Portugal why not consider staying here?"
Never, never, her heart cried — not once you are married to Carmelita Albrantesl
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THAT night, when the twins were safely In bed and asleep and she was alone in her own room, Kathleen took herself to task, and as a result of a thorough investigation of her mind and heart decided that she would be wise if she said goodbye to Portugal without delay.
If she stayed she would almost certainly reap the whirlwind later on, when unhappiness in a more or less solid form would literally hurl itself at her. She would know what it was to look bleakly into the future and discover that it was without any brightness whatsoever, and all because one man whom she had started off by describing not only to herself but to her relatives as arrogant and detestable had suddenly become indispensable to her. Which would be a quite ridiculous situation in any case, for when the motivating power of one's existence centres round a solitary human person then peace of mind is forever lost, whether the solitary human person is entirely out of reach or not. The calm complacency of her girlhood and young womanhood would be behind her, and she didn't want that to happen — somehow she had always shrunk from the thought of it happening to her.
When happiness was dependent on another human being it was a frightening thing, and it meant that she would no longer be in complete control of her own destiny. She had supposed vaguely that one day she would want to share her life with someone else — she would want to fall in love, and be loved — but she had been in no hurry to experience this curious state, that was unlike any other state of mind, heart, or being, according to everyone who knew anything about it.
Now she knew that those who had experienced the phenomena were right, and that the impact of suddenly finding out that, out of all the men in the world,
one man could make or mar one's future was shattering. And added to that the knowledge that there wasn't a hope in the world that that particular man could ever mean anyhing to one was rather worse than shattering. It filled her with dismay, which grew as she pondered the situation.
Of course, there was such a thing as smothering newly-born emotion, but hers wasn't so newly-born. It must have been gathering strength all the time, from the moment she felt herself catch back a faint gasp of admiration at the startling good looks of the Conde de Chaves, and wished that Peggy had warned her just what he looked like. Even when he made her angry with his cool disdain the admiration hadn't wavered for an instant, and subconsciously she knew that that was the reason she had allowed her sister-in-law to persuade her to stay on for another week, instead of returning home to England according to plan.
Another week—with the hope that before it ended she would catch another glimpse of the Conde? Was that really what she had secretly wished for?
She was certain now that it was, and she knew that her complete capitulation had come about when he had held her hand and told her that if she needed support any time in her dealings with the twins she could appeal to him.
The strength and vitality of his fingers had communicated itself to something deep inside her, and she had felt bemused by the odd sensation his nearness filled her with. The night when she had returned from her brother's and he had been waiting for her in the garden of the quinta an almost painful delight in his nearness when he stood close to her and lightly stirred her hair with his warm breath had frightened her when she thought about it afterwards.
Now she knew there wasn't much point in being frightened. The damage was done, and she had the uneasy conviction that it was incurable. Her ear was always vaguely listening for the sound of his footsteps,
in the house or on the flagged floor of the terrace which ran below her windows; when she crossed the hall and he called her name from the doorway of the library her heart leapt, and then behaved as if it was no longer secure in her breast. And when he was annoyed with her her heart died, and she felt desperate.
She had felt desperate today, particularly round about lunch time, when disappointment because he had obviously forgotten that he made an appointment to see her in the library had hung like a black cloud over her. And the sight of him driving up with Carmelita had been the final straw.
It was absurd her feeling jealous of Carmelita, for the Portuguese girl lived in an entirely different world, socially speaking, to the one she, Kathleen, inhabited, and she had every right to expect this arrogant Portuguese male to be attentive to her. Whether or not he was in love with her it would be impossible to say, but he certainly behaved as if he liked her enormously. And there had been that admission of his that he was in love!
If he wasn't in love with Carmelita, then with whom was he in love? There must be many attractive young women he knew in Lisbon, and Kathleen couldn't imagine any young woman singled out by him for attention not responding. Autocratic and demanding, perhaps sometimes a little unreasonable—particularly m his views about women, and the amount of freedom that was good for them—he was a devastatingly attractive man whose dark good looks alone could surely command him any heart he chose, and with the added attraction of his wealth and position he must be a master of hearts!
As for herself, what she was going to do she didn't quite know. For if she went away she would never see him again . . . If she stayed . . . her own heart would probably be broken into numberless tiny pieces.
She wondered whether this thing that hid happened to her—this unfortunate, but tremendous thing—had
brought about any noticeable change in her, and realised how careful she would have to be to keep it from those around her—particularly, of course, the Conde!
This was somewhat forcibly brought home to her when, two days after the dinner-party to which the O'Farrels had been invited, she met her sister-in-law while she and the children were out walking. Peggy didn't normally choose this roundabout way home when she had been shopping in Amara, but as soon as she caught sight of Kathleen, with Jerry and Joe ambling along sedately and correctly one on either side of her, she hurried her pace.
"I was hoping I might see something of you," she admitted to Kathleen. Her face was heated, but her eyes were curious and rather eager. They seemed to search Kathleen's face avidly. "What happened the other night?" she wanted to know. "Why did you disappear and not say goodnight?"
Kathleen hesitated. She realised she didn't know what the Conde had said in order to explain her absence.
"The children . ." she began, and Peggy nodded.
"I understood one of them was wakeful. What a nuisance when it was such a lovely evening, and we were all having such a good time!" She looked at the children a shade reproachfully, and then with amusement when she recognised the alertness of two small pairs of ears. Kathleen was thankful she didn't ask which one of them was wakeful, for both would almost certainly have denied it, and then her explanation would have fallen flat. Instead Peggy ruffled the bright red heads. "How unlike their mother they are, aren't they?" she said.
Kathleen admitted as much. She was still feeling full of indignation towards Dona Inez, although the latter had tried to explain away her conduct by saying that she didn't think Kathleen would mind And she had followed up the half-apology with a beautiful silken head-square which Kathleen had promptly given away to one of the maids.
"She's very beautiful, Dona Inez," Peggy observed, searching in her basket for some chocolate, which she presented to the twins once she had found it. "And so youthful-looking to be the mother of a pair like this!"
"I understand they take after their father," Kathleen remarked.
Peggy raised her brows, as much as to say: "Fancy a lovely woman like that falling for a man who looked like these two! . . ." And then decided that, in spite of the distraction of the chocolate, the two little pitchers had very long ears and it would not be safe. `Oh, well," she said instead, "everyone to his, or her, taste!"
And then she looked at Kathleen.
"At least they have a terribly attractive uncle! He made us so very welcome the other night, and could not have behaved more charmingly! Don't you agree with me now, Kathie, that he's everything I once inferred he could be?"
"You said
he had charm," Kathleen recalled.
Peggy's eyes twinkled a little.
"I'm beginning to think that's rather an inadequate word! Shane agrees with me, tool"
"Oh!" Kathleen said.
Peggy nodded vigorously.
"Did you know he actually paid a call on us the morning after the party?"
"He did—what?" Kathleen looked completely unbelieving. "What—what on earth for?"
Peggy seemed suddenly to become concerned about a parcel that appeared to be missing, and conducted an anxious search which was rewarded after a second or so by the discovery of it reposing beneath a couple of English library books at the bottom of her basket.
"Well, as a matter of fact I'm not altogether certain . . ." She took up the thread of the Conde's visit where she had left it off. "His ostensible reason was that he wanted to have a look at some of Shane's pictures—they had talked about them the night before, and he thought that several of his friends might be
interested in them as well. He did actually buy a whole half-dozen, and you can imagine how that pleased me! Several of Shane's efforts have been cluttering up the spare room for months, and although of course I know they're good I'd rather see the money for them. The Conde wrote out a cheque that took my breath away when I saw it, and part of it has already been expended on some new curtain material for the dining-room."
Peggy beamed happily.
"You know how shabby they were! The new ones are going to give the place an entirely new `look'."
"How nice," Kathleen commented mechanically. But she was thinking, so the Conde didn't spend the whole morning with Carmelita! Her heart started to thud a little. "What else did the Conde talk about?"
Peggy became interested in her basket again, which was certainly filled to overflowing.