Dear Conquistador Read online

  But the same could not be said for Juanita. Her dark eyes glowed with inner fire and her whole being radiated joy. Hilary felt a wave of concern and impatience. If all were as Juanita stated why did she virtually cry her secret to the world? The old saying, her heart in her eyes, flashed into Hilary’s mind and at the same moment she felt the presence of other eyes.

  The Conde had entered the sala and there was a slight frown between his brows.

  He moved across the room and it seemed plain he intended to show disapproval.

  Acting on impulse, Hilary began to say the first thing that came into her head, mentioning a well-known flamenco singer, and trying to interpose herself between Ramon and the starry-eyed Juanita.

  Ramon seized the cue instantly, and the next moment Hilary found herself being invited to attend a flamenco performance with him and some friends. She could do little but accept and settle an evening the following week, but she did not know which was the most daunting: Juanita’s hurt expression, or the flash of sheer arrogant disapproval that darkened the Conde’s face as she turned to him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE Navarre hacienda lay in one of the rich, fertile valleys that split the dry coastal plain and provided yet another contrast in a land filled with fascinating diversity of terrain.

  The drive took slightly less than two hours and gave Hilary her first real sight of the countryside outside the city. Joaquin was full of excitement and appointed himself chief pointer-out of landmarks he considered of main importance, and Dona Elena nodded approvingly as he identified the distant snow-capped peak of Cerro Huascaran, the highest mountain in Peru.

  Only Juanita remained silent and withdrawn, responding in a small voice when addressed but showing no joyous anticipation of the week-end ahead. It was plain she had not yet forgiven Hilary’s small intervention the previous day and when the party reached the hacienda and were greeted by Consuelo and Senora Navarre she slipped away afterwards with barely a word of excuse.

  Dona Elena frowned slightly and Hilary gave a small inward sigh. Courtesy forced her to remain in the group until Dona Elena was drawn away by her old friend, Joaquin was claimed by two small boys somewhere near his own age group, and she was left to face the delicately arched tilt of Consuelo’s brows.

  ‘Sanchia will be with us soon,’ the Spanish girl said smoothly, ‘and you need not worry about your young charge. He has visited with us before.’

  Hilary nodded, aware of the subtlest allusion that she was not quite a guest, and waited politely for Consuelo to make the next move. They were standing on the shaded terrace, overlooking a broad lawn edged with brilliant flower beds, and behind them the big terra-cotta tiles stretched like a checker-board under the old Spanish Colonial style balcony of the floor above. The cases had been taken indoors by the chauffeur, and the small flurry of the guests’ arrival had now dissipated.

  Consuelo turned. ‘Pepita will be here in a moment and she will show you to your room. If there is anything you wish she will attend to it. ’

  The other girl sounded faintly bored and again Hilary could only nod and murmur an acknowledgment. She could hear the voices of Joaquin and his companions from somewhere at the side of the house, but the children themselves were not in sight. Hilary hesitated, then said: ‘I wonder where Juanita is. Perhaps I should find her. ’

  ‘Ah yes.’ Consuelo’s brows arched again. ‘The pequena appeared to be somewhat upset today. She is not indisposed, I trust. ’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Hilary said guardedly.

  ‘ She is at an excitable age,’ the other girl said in an offhand manner. ‘No doubt she will soon be imagining herself in love with every attractive young man she meets.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Coolness entered Hilary’s tone. ‘You must remember that it’s little more than two months since she lost her parents.’

  ‘How could I forget?’ Consuelo said softly. ‘Ah, here is Pepita. We will see you in the sala later. Adios.’

  ‘Adios,’ murmured Hilary under her breath as she followed the little maid to the small bedroom she had been allotted; already she knew her initial wariness of Consuelo had not been misplaced.

  She was not surprised to discover that her room was a considerable distance from those of Joaquin and Juanita, or that it faced the full heat of the sun and was stifling and airless. She was not going to allow that to worry her unduly; it was only for two nights and then she would be back in her own delightfully comfortable room at the villa. After a quick freshening of her face and hands she went in search of Juanita. As she had suspected, she found her sprawled on her bed, a tray with biscuits and an iced drink at hand, and an opened magazine face down on the pillow. She turned her head when Hilary entered, then returned her sombre gaze to the ceiling.

  ‘Have you got a headache?’ Hilary asked softly, standing by the bed.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ Hilary asked after a brief pause.

  ‘No.’ Juanita turned her head. ‘Why do you not have a siesta like everyone else? You always wander out even on the hottest days.’

  ‘Mad dogs and Englishmen ...?’ A ghost of a smile curved Hilary’s mouth. ‘I couldn’t go to sleep in the middle of the day even if the weather was like a furnace. Besides, we’ve only just got here. I’d feel as though it was bad form to retire to my room straight away.’

  Juanita made a small movement of her shoulders and did not reply. After a moment or so Hilary sat down on the edge of the bed.

  ‘It isn’t that, and you know it,’ she said bluntly. ‘I upset you last night by trying to help you. Won’t you believe that? I

  did it for the best.’

  Suddenly Juanita sat up, and her oval face was bitterly accusing. ‘You have been here less than two weeks and already you have made a date with Ramon. The very first time you meet him. Is that how you try to help me?’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Hilary was so surprised she could have laughed, had not the situation been so sad for Juanita. Her expression gentle, she tried to explain a motive that should have been instantly clear to Juanita and the reason so obvious for her acceptance of Ramon’s invitation.

  ‘If I’d refused it would have made it even more awkward with your uncle being there,’ she went on. ‘Don’t you see? Ramon knew instantly that I was helping to cover up. ’

  ‘Cover up?’ Juanita frowned, plainly wanting to be convinced but not sure. ‘I do not understand.’

  ‘It’s a very old ploy, or trick. If two people are in love and wish to conceal it for any reason they pretend an interest in someone else. Ramon certainly didn’t intend to ask me out anywhere,’ Hilary said firmly, ‘but it just happened because you were looking so starry-eyed, and your uncle was watching, and I remembered what Consuelo had said about the riding, and so...’ she shrugged. ‘That’s how it was.’

  ‘I see. So you and Ramon will pretend to have an affair so that my uncle does not suspect us.’

  ‘Well, not exactly.’ Hilary experienced a flutter of alarm. ‘It was a momentary impulse. I don’t intend to have an affair with anyone, certainly not Ramon. ’

  ‘You don’t like Ramon?’

  ‘Not that way. He’s very charming and very attractive, but I could never fall in love with him. ’

  ‘He is wonderful.’ Juanita heaved a sigh and wrapped her arms round her knees. ‘I shall love him for ever and ever.’ ‘Yes, but it’s going to be difficult to keep it secret if you go around looking like you did last night,’ Hilary said dryly. ‘I’ve heard about the language of the eyes and how a Latin can enchant without words, but I’d never realized j ust how telling it was. However, that wasn’t what I was going to say. I’ve had an idea.’

  Juanita glanced at her, looking more hopeful. ‘Yes? About us?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t you come with us to the flamenco?’

  ‘Tio would never allow it?’

  ‘Have you asked him?’

  ‘It would be useless.’

  ‘Well, I will a
sk him. ’

  ‘His answer will be no. In fact, he may object to you going with Ramon. ’

  Hilary’s mouth tightened. ‘He’d better not. Your uncle is most kind and charming, but he must not dictate to me what I do in my free time, or there’ll be sparks flying.’

  ‘Sparks?’ Juanita giggled, having regained her good humour. ‘But you do not know my uncle. He is very wise and he does not like to be defied, and he can be very very angry if he is not obeyed. ’

  ‘I suspect that, but with all due respect to him my situation is somewhat different from yours, querida. As long as I do my job, for which he pays my salary, exactly to his satisfaction, he can’t criticize my actions in my personal life.’

  ‘That is how you look at it,’ Juanita said steadily, ‘but you will find that it is different, so don’t say I did not warn you.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Hilary promised, and dismissed the serious little warning immediately as born of Juanita’s still childlike awe of her uncle, the Conde. But she herself was different, Hilary decided, the prickles of indignation still sharp at the idea of the Conde trying to impose the same standards of conduct and restrictions on herself as on his young niece. He would never dream of questioning her personal affairs.

  Perhaps if she had pondered the thought a little more deeply she might not have dismissed this outrageous idea quite so quickly, but the sudden squeals of childish voices raised in argument distracted her attention. With a murmur to Juanita she went to the french windows which gave access to the balcony.

  Below, three small flushed and excited boys were wrestling fiercely for possession of a large ball. As she smiled and Juanita came to her side the little group broke apart leaving Joaquin the victor, triumphantly clutching the ball.

  ‘I tell you no!’ He sprang back and bounced the ball. ‘Not that way. Pele would do this! This way!’

  He aimed an almighty kick which sent the ball soaring over the boys’ heads and the scarlet hibiscus hedge that bounded the lawn.

  ‘Ole!’ Hilary applauded, then stifled her laughter as an angry cry came from beyond the hedge.

  The smiles of the three small football enthusiasts also faded as Consuelo appeared. Her dark features were furious as she brushed at a smudge on her hitherto immaculate cream dress and a torrent of rage broke from her when she saw the culprits. Joaquin stood his ground, his small face defiant, and said stiffly: ‘I did not mean to hit you, Senorita Navarre. We

  did not know—’

  But Consuelo ignored him. She had seen Hilary on the balcony. She glared upwards and cried: ‘Can you not control these children? Do you see what they have done? It is a disgrace! My dress is ruined! You—’

  ‘I’m sure it isn’t.’ Hilary kept her voice even. ‘I can’t even see any mark on it. ’

  ‘You can’t?’ Consuelo gestured. ‘You are not even trying. Why are they not having their siesta instead of behaving like young picaros?’

  Hilary sighed. Perhaps the ball had left a trace of dust on Consuelo’s person, but did she have to go on like this? Joaquin was gazing up anxiously while the other two culprits were quietly stealing out of the way. She said placatingly: ‘They’ve had their siesta. You can’t expect three healthy children to sit and twiddle their thumbs all day. I’m sure they didn’t do it on purpose - in fact they didn’t - I saw it.’ The placating quality disappeared from Hilary’s tone and she added firmly, ‘I’m sure it’ll brush off if you—’

  ‘It will not! The dress is ruined and I shall never wear it again,’ Consuelo declared dramatically. She swung round. ‘And it is all your fault, Joaquin. Your uncle shall hear of this. Go indoors instantly, all of you. I shall see that you are punished.’

  ‘I think not!’ Suddenly Hilary lost patience and began a rapid descent of the stairs at the end of the balcony. The pink flush of annoyance was in her cheeks as she faced the angry girl. ‘It was entirely accidental. I doubt if they even knew you were there. But they will apologize, and I will personally remove the mark from your dress. And that will be the end of it. Children! ’

  They came meekly, to Hilary’s secret surprise, and Joaquin apologized meekly, giving a small bow as he did so, and the other two followed his lead. Hilary suspected that imps of mischief lurked in the dark eyes, but when they glanced up at her, as though to seek her approval, their faces were so utterly solemn as to disarm the most suspicious disciplinarian.

  But Consuelo was not mollified. She seemed about to break into further upbraiding, then muttered something that Hilary could not catch and flounced away. The moment she was out of hearing Joaquin moved nearer to Hilary.

  ‘Will she tell Tio to punish us? I did not mean to hurt her, Senorita Martin. ’

  ‘I know you didn’t. But if she does tell him then I shall tell him the truth. I’m sure he will understand that it was an unfortunate accident. ’

  Joaquin looked slightly less worried and in a very short time he had become his normal imperious little self. Not so Consuelo. When she reappeared, having changed into a superb white and black outfit, her expression made no secret of her dislike when she saw Hilary.

  She was accompanied by a slender, graceful young woman whom Hilary had not seen before. Juanita whispered: ‘That is her sister Sanchia. You will find her more pleasant than Consuelo - sorrow has made her sweeter.’ Whether Juanita’s terse little surmise were true or not, the sad-eyed young woman was entirely different in temperament from her sister. Sanchia was softer-voiced, more restrained in her gestures, and with a graciousness entirely devoid of arrogance.

  Hilary warmed to her, and almost straight away discovered that Sanchia was the Senora Alvedo with whom she should have had that well-remembered interview weeks back in London.

  Sanchia was rueful, smiling with recollection. ‘I was so excited that day - I had only two days in your city and I wanted so much to see your wonderful shops, and it was the first time I had been to Europe since - since my husband ... You understand?’

  ‘Yes, I do understand,’ Hilary said gently.

  ‘And of course my English is not so clear as your way of mine, and I was wondering what I should say to Romualdo that there was no one suitable.’ Sanchia sighed. ‘They were all so hopeless. That child with the bangles and beads, and then she had the chewing gum as well ...’

  ‘Miss Jones?’ Hilary remembered the jaunty young hopeful with her fears lest the job should prove another au pair ‘swizz’. ‘I think she’d had an eye-opener with her previous job’

  ‘Eye-opener?’ Sanchia looked puzzled, then nodded. ‘I know - surprise. If only I had seen you first then I could have saved nearly all my afternoon. And to think that I went away and left you to Romualdo’s tender mercies! Have you forgiven me yet?’

  ‘Nothing to forgive - anyway, it wasn’t quite as bad as that,’ Hilary laughed.

  ‘I am not so sure.’ The amusement faded from Sanchia’s dark eyes, leaving the lingering sadness that was never far from her face. ‘The Conde can be quite - how would you say it? - intimidating to those who are not intimo. Sometimes I am thankful that he is not head of our family, but I dare not say this to Madre! ’

  She was silent for a moment, then exclaimed quickly, ‘But I talk too much of myself! You are happy here?’

  ‘I’m loving every minute of it,’ Hilary said without an instant’s hesitation.

  ‘Bueno! Sanchia clapped her hands and glanced round. ‘We must drink a toast to that. Where is Consuelo?’

  But Consuelo was not to be seen. The little maid came from the house and Sanchia asked her to bring wine, then turned to Hilary. ‘You must not mind my sister. She is one of her - how do you say it? - Tizzy? No, pique, because I will not let her manage me again. It is different for me now. She has never escaped from the family, but for three years I travel and live all over the world with Carlos. We became -cosmopolitan. So marvellously free. And now,’ she sighed, ‘I must conform again, or live alone, unless I marry again.’

  There was a small silence of understanding. Th
en before either of them could speak a big station wagon swept into view down the long curve of the drive. Sanchia sat up rather abruptly, and from nowhere Joaquin and his two small friends rushed down the drive to greet the big, broad-shouldered man getting out of the station wagon.

  ‘It is Senor Gilford,’ said Sanchia, relaxing back again. ‘He is from the neighbouring hacienda. It is - oh, three times larger than ours. He—’

  Her words faded as the boys and the newcomer approached. He was deeply tanned, pleasantly featured, and his fair hair was bleached to pale gold with hours spent in the hot sun. Joaquin was demanding: ‘Are you going to the corrida today, Senor Gilford?’ and the fair man was responding: ‘We are all going to the corrida, amigo.’ His smile changed as he saw Hilary’s companion.

  ‘Hello, Sanchia,’ he said quietly.

  Hilary’s impulse to cry out: You’re English! was checked. She waited till Sanchia returned his greeting and made a normal introduction, and Bruce Gilford made the exclamation instead.

  ‘I might have known - one look at that complexion,’ he said delightedly, holding both her hands in his. ‘I’d heard the British colony had increased by one a few days ago. Now what part? Let me guess.’ He narrowed brilliant blue eyes and pretended to think hard. ‘London?’

  She smiled happily. ‘Surrey.’

  ‘So we’re still neighbours.

  ‘ Senor Gilford is what is known as a true man of Kent, I’m told,’ Sanchia put in.

  ‘Is that born north or south of the Medway?’ Hilary asked. ‘I can never remember.’

  ‘Neither,’ he grinned. ‘It’s east. A Kentish man is born west. ’

  ‘I think perhaps your geography is not quite as good as your languages, Hilary,’ said Juanita teasingly, who had come quietly to join the group.