Dear Conquistador Page 4

  matters.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She recollected the little fact that she hadn’t been here much more than five minutes and already she was lecturing her new employer on the sins of his fathers! Suspecting that he was laughing at her, despite his grave expression, she said: ‘Yes, senor, I came in search of someone, to inquire about my duties.’

  He nodded, touching a bell. ‘Please sit down, senorita. Would you like coffee? Or would you prefer something cooler?’

  ‘Coffee, please.’ She sat down, choosing a chair where she was out of range of those painted eyes, suddenly aware of shyness, and lapsed into silence.

  When the coffee was brought the Conde glanced at a letter the maid had also brought, then put it down and leaned back. He crossed his elegantly clad legs and studied Hilary with musing eyes. ‘I do not think there is much more to discuss, senorita. Joaquin is with his tutor each morning, a routine I do not wish to change. Three afternoons each week are occupied by his lessons in music, fencing and French; and most mornings he rides, which does not leave so much time. I should like him to spend the alternate afternoons - after his siesta, of course - and his meriendo hour each day with you, during which time I trust his conversational English may improve.’

  The Conde paused, his mouth pursing thoughtfully, then he went on: ‘It is mainly my niece with whom you will concern yourself. ’

  Hilary nodded, recalling their original discussion. ‘She has finished with school, senor?’

  ‘She was in her last term when my sister and brother-in-law were so tragically killed. There was a plan to send her to Europe later this year to a Swiss finishing school, but she was so bereft and distraught at the idea of going so far away from us all that we abandoned the plan, for a while, anyway. Which is partly why you are here.’

  Again he paused and a trace of a frown narrowed his dark brow. ‘There is one point I must emphasize. I forget if I mentioned the fact that Juanita is heiress to her mother’s personal fortune. When she is twenty-one she will be a very wealthy woman. You, senorita, will be acting as her duena, and as such will always bear this fact in mind.’ Hilary must have betrayed her puzzlement, for he said firmly: ‘You will use your discretion and ensure that she forms no undesirable acquaintances during your outings. Is that quite clear?’

  ‘Oh, yes, senor.’ Comprehension came to Hilary and an imp of humour bubbled up. ‘You mean we mustn’t pick up any strange young men while she’s in my care.’

  His mouth twitched. ‘Such a phrase! Pick up. But you have grasped my meaning. Also’ - his head went back, considering her - ‘you yourself will take care not to pick up any strange young men on any occasion when you are not in our care.’

  ‘Yes, senor.’ Her mouth quivered, but she maintained a suitably serious air and waited.

  He fingered his chin. ‘I see no other difficulties. Should you have any problems you will come to me, no one else. The children’s grandmother is away at present and I do not wish Dona Elena to be worried as she is not in very good health at the moment. Is there anything you wish to ask me?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said demurely.

  ‘Good. I hope you will be happy with us, senorita.’ ‘Thank you, Senor Conde,’ she said formally, ‘I’m sure I shall. And I hope your niece and nephew will be happy with me.’

  He inclined his head, and she stood up. Obviously the interview was at an end. The Conde moved to the door, then checked. ‘There is just one other small point, senorita ...’

  She stood very straight and slender, for the moment utterly off guard, and smiled, ‘Yes, senor?’

  ‘It is the little matter of parading on your balcony en deshabille. ’

  Her smile died. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I regret that your balcony does not afford quite that degree of privacy. You will forgive me this indelicate reminder?’

  Memory filled the blankness and colour flowed into her cheeks. ‘Oh—! This morning ... I didn’t think ... Oh, no, senor! It never occurred to me that—’

  ‘That you were observed?’

  ‘No.’ Her face felt stiff. ‘I’m sorry. I quite understand your objection. I forgot that here it is—’

  He held up his hand. ‘Please do not apologize. Objection is a harsh word - in this particular context, senorita. Personally, I thought your joy of the morning most charming to behold. But a charm, none the less, which I should prefer all and sundry of my household not to behold. Entiendo?’

  ‘Perfectly, Senor Conde.’

  No one could fail to notice the wicked glint in his eyes that marred the otherwise perfect gravity of his composure, and as the full significance of his remarks dawned on her she went scarlet.

  He held open the door and she made a decidedly flustered exit.

  For a long time she would not forget the eyes of a conquistador, and this time they were not the painted ones!

  CHAPTER THREE

  Hilary was not sure whether to be thankful or sorry when business took the Conde away from the quinta later that day and kept him away almost a week. When she discovered his absence she was suddenly aware of the disquieting sense not unlike that experienced by the novice swimmer when first pushed into the deep end! On the other hand she did not regret the short respite in which to acclimatize herself to her new surroundings and recover from the equally disquieting effect of those final minutes of that interview on her first morning in Lima.

  She accepted as natural the trace of stiffness dominating the atmosphere during those first few days. Although she was treated with scrupulous courtesy by family and servants alike, she could not help feeling strange when faced with the confliction of rather aloof formality and emotional excitability which seemed to colour the Latin temperament The vivid and exotic land of Peru fascinated her, and though shy at first she soon discovered that a smile was an open sesame, that Lima was an attractively laid out and well-kept city, and that the people were open-faced and friendly to the stranger in their midst.

  But at the quinta it was slightly different.

  Joaquin and Juanita were patently on their best behaviour, instructed thus, Hilary suspected, by the Conde himself or their great-aunt, Dona Elena, who was suffering with her arthritic hip at the time of Hilary’s arrival and remaining in her own apartment.

  Several days passed before Hilary was summoned to present herself to Dona Elena, and, conditioned by Joaquin’s and Juanita’s awe of their great-aunt, she went prepared to meet an autocrat and discovered a fragile, diminutive old lady whose gracious beauty and manner was completely disarming.

  Despite this the charming inquisition was thorough. Dona Elena sat erect, a small indomitable figure in a high-backed carved ebony chair, soft silvery lace at her throat and snowy hair beautifully dressed, and dark eyes which had gained the shrewdness of age without losing the fire of their youthful beauty. First she encouraged Hilary to broach her impressions of her new surroundings, and then proceeded to draw from her quite a lot about her own home and family back in England. She studied the few snapshots Hilary had brought with her, and lapsed into silence for a few moments after she

  handed them back. At last she said:

  ‘Yes, I think my nephew has chosen well. I was extremely doubtful when I heard of your youthfulness. Oh yes,’ she smiled, ‘you are very young, a mere two years older than my grand-niece, but two years in youth can effect as great a change as two years in the age of senility. I trust you will use those two years’ seniority with wisdom and not allow her to override your discipline.’

  ‘I’ll try to do that,’ Hilary said seriously, ‘but I hope to be friend as well as companion, if she will accept me as such. ’ Dona Elena nodded. ‘I am sure she will. But there is one thing I would mention concerning yourself. ’

  Hilary tensed, wondering if it was warning she read in those dark, shrewd eyes.

  ‘You may find our customs strange,’ Dona Elena went on, ‘and you may meet problems which you have not foreseen. Should you do so, please remember that we will tr
y to understand and advise. We wish you to be happy and contented here.’

  ‘I’m sure I shall be. Thank you - you’re very kind.’ Impulsively Hilary moved forwards and stooped to kiss Dona Elena’s soft cheek. As she straightened she was already wondering if she had offended, but when she looked at the old lady she saw there was a faint glint of amusement in the fine dark eyes.

  ‘I hope I do not need to remind you to be cautious where you bestow your careless English gestures of affection.’ Dona Elena smiled. ‘Our young men are not accustomed to receiving them from, shall I say, acceptable feminine acquaintances other than family and, of course, elderly matrons like myself. Should you forget, I must warn you that their response might prove more overwhelming than you expected. ’

  Hilary could not repress a smile. She had a feeling she was going to like Dona Elena very much. She said as gravely as she could: ‘I shall remember that warning. Dona Elena.’

  ‘Yes,’ the twinkle had disappeared, and Dona Elena sighed, ‘I am forgetting; you may not feel inclined for bestowing your affections anywhere for some little time. Forgive me, my dear, for presuming to issue my ill-placed warning. But ...’ she sighed again and her eyes held the cynicism that the years can bring, ‘times are changing, even here. The old standards are fading, and tradition is becoming something to which one pays lip service but does not always obey. Sometimes I

  wonder—’

  She stopped as a brief tap came at the door. Almost immediately it opened and a tall girl entered. She paused, gave one brief glance at Hilary, and then swept across the room.

  It was difficult not to stare a little at the newcomer. Her dark, flamboyant beauty was striking, and her smooth complexion was like amber satin against the dazzling white silk dress that caressed her full, shapely form. There was a regal quality about her and obviously she was someone close to Dona Elena, for warmth sparked instantly in their greetings, whose volubility Hilary had no difficulty in following.

  Hilary drew back, hesitating until she could break in to take a polite leave, but Dona Elena turned and gestured, looking at both girls.

  ‘Consuelo - you have not met Miss Martin, have you? She has come from England to help the children with their studies. Hilary, Senorita Navarre is the youngest daughter of my dearest friend.’

  Slim cool fingers brushed Hilary’s and fell away. The dark eyes made their assessment of the cool, fair girl in ice-blue and shuttered over their conclusion. Consuelo turned back to Dona Elena and smiled with a trace of condescension. ‘Yes, Sanchia told me that the Conde had decided to make his own choice. She was a little concerned about this, but I must admit that Miss Martin’s accent is excellent.’ Consuelo paused, then gave a shrug of dismissal. ‘I only hope that she will not influence Juanita to be any more foolish than she already is. Do you know? I saw her riding alone with Ramon last week. I can’t believe it was with the Conde’s sanction.’

  ‘Is this so?’ Dona Elena betrayed shocked surprise. ‘Are you certain of this, my child?’

  ‘Certain, even though neither of them saw me,’ Consuelo said firmly. ‘It is time Juanita realized she is no longer a child and Ramon was reminded that he should not abuse the privilege of his position here.’

  Dona Elena shook her head. ‘I had no idea that Juanita was in the habit of riding alone with my nephew’s secretary.’ Her fine brows narrowed over the almost accusing glance she turned on Hilary. ‘Is this so?’

  ‘I - I don’t know,’ said Hilary with some bewilderment. ‘I don’t even know who Ramon—’

  ‘But of course you don’t!’ Impatience helped to clear the accusation from Dona Elena’s eyes. ‘How could you? You have not yet had the opportunity of meeting the young culprit of whom we speak. A most personable young man, but ... ’

  Dona Elena frowned again and her thin fingers tapped against the silver and ebony cane that lay against her knees. ‘Hm, we must speak of this later, when my nephew returns. Now tell me, my dear, what brings you here today?’

  ‘To ask you when Romualdo is returning,’ said Consuelo. ‘We had no idea he intended to be away so long. Almost a week. You know that Sanchia returned from Madrid yesterday. She is still sad, the poor querida. We are hoping the celebration this week-end will lighten her heart. You will all be coming, I trust. You are recovered, dear Dona Elena?’

  ‘Why do you think I have nursed this accursed infirmity of mine for almost a fortnight?’ the old lady exclaimed. ‘Not to be subject to its mercy or otherwise this week-end. I will most surely be with you all. But I speak for myself,’ she added wryly. ‘For Romualdo I cannot speak, my dear. Who can?’

  Yes, who can? Hilary thought with faint amusement when she was able to withdraw a little later and leave Dona Elena and her young visitor deep in discussion over the forthcoming party at the Navarre hacienda, to which some forty guests had been invited. It promised to be quite an affair - even if the Conde failed to return in time to attend. But he would, Hilary decided, unless he was proof against a barrage of feminine outrage. For, from the way Consuelo had spoken, it seemed that his presence was vital to ensure Sanchia’s enjoyment of the festivities.

  This must be the Senora Alvedo of the interview sessions back in London. The Conde had referred to someone called Sanchia when he had taken over the vetting himself, Hilary remembered, culling from a surprisingly vivid recollection of that entire afternoon’s events. So Sanchia was a widow, presumably still very young, and the customary time had arrived to draw her gently from her period of mourning. And her sister Consuelo was naturally concerned for her happiness. But not concerned about Juanita, Hilary decided, making her way along the terrace. There had been a trace of vindictiveness in the way she had informed Dona Elena of her great-niece’s apparent misdemeanour.

  Juanita was still reading by the pool where Hilary had left her an hour previously when summoned to Dona Elena’s presence. She looked youthful and curiously vulnerable as she sat there, a small slender figure in white, her dark head bent over her book. Hilary paused at the end of the terrace, her eyes wondering. What was Juanita up to? She had never even mentioned Ramon, although Joaquin had made a careless reference to Ramon’s swimming skill the first time Hilary had swum in the pool. Apparently this Ramon had taught Joaquin to swim during a holiday the previous year.

  Hilary had thought nothing of the reference, but now she thought back she remembered Juanita abruptly changing the subject. So far the Spanish girl had been both friendly and amenable towards Hilary, but now Hilary began to wonder if the subdued air of shyness was actually secretiveness. So Ramon was a member of the household, and apparently not a suitable riding companion for Juanita. Spanish convention!

  Hilary shrugged off her preoccupation as she glanced at her watch and discovered it was later than she had realized, long past the time to rouse Joaquin from his afternoon siesta.

  She went indoors again, her smile reflective. During these early days she had found the new way of life much as she had expected, more leisurely in pace, a different mealtime routine, and a totally different attitude to time, but already she was discovering that in its way it conformed to a pattern as equally regular as that of home, even if disconcertingly alien at times. Now it was lesson time for Joaquin, until about six-thirty, when he would partake of his meriendo - a kind of chocolate drink with rolls, which he adored - before being put to bed.

  ‘Joaquin - time to—’ She stopped at the door. Joaquin was missing. The small curled-up impression of him still ruffled the counterpane, and there were traces of his having made a hurried if dutiful small-boy toilet, while the much maligned Venetian blinds had been partly opened and now hovered slightly drunkenly two-thirds of the way up the windows.

  Hilary juggled them until they completed their run, restored a damp towel to its rail, and turned off a dripping tap in a hand-basin still securely plugged, and went in search of her charge.

  ‘No, I have not seen him.’ Juanita put down her book and sighed. ‘I’m afraid the novelty has gone thin now he
has come to know you. It did not last very long.’

  ‘You mean Joaquin is back to being himself.’ Hilary smiled. ‘He’s done very well to stay on his best behaviour for five whole days. That’s a long time for a six-year-old.’

  ‘As long as all the next five days of the future are going to seem to us.’ Juanita gave another sigh and stood up. ‘Come, I will help you find him. There are three places where we may find him. The stables, the little hut with the generator motor which controls the fountains, or the Conde’s library. They are the three forbidden places,’ she added resignedly.

  The little pump house was empty, and the garden fountains played serenely in the sun, untroubled by the experimental fingers of a small boy, and Juanita turned to Hilary. ‘I will go and look for him at the stables, if you like, while you see if he is in the library.’

  Hilary hesitated, stables and riding adding up to two immediately, until she remembered that the Conde and his secretary were still absent. ‘All right - and you keep away from that new horse with the uncertain temper while you’re there,’ she added warningly. ‘Meet you back at the pool.’

  She made a purposeful way back indoors, meeting no one but hearing the voices of the servants as they prepared to resume their duties. All seemed silent as she approached the library, but the big double doors were heavy and solid enough to drown any sound within. She opened one and a sharp, guilty scuffle greeted her.

  Joaquin was almost but not quite concealed, and she walked briskly down the long room. ‘Come on out. I can see you, Joaquin. ’

  Slowly he emerged from behind a high carved chair, and Hilary’s amusement faded abruptly as she looked at him. The conquistador’s helmet was now reposing on Joaquin’s small dark head, almost obscuring his eyes, and the sword gleamed dully in hands far too tiny to hold it safely.