Dear Conquistador Page 9

  - as she stared dreamily at the peach she was slicing.

  Hilary’s eyes went tender with understanding as she looked at the young, sensitive face; she was looking forward to seeing Juanita’s delight when she told her that the assignation

  was arranged.... Hilary sighed softly. How wonderful was the

  transformation love could work in a person! Only a few hours ago Juanita had been downcast, not caring what the day might bring, but it had brought joy after all. Somewhere, chance had decreed an emergency in a stranger’s life, he was unable to keep a business appointment, and so the Conde decided to meet his family and friends at the corrida. And Ramon came too ... It put the week-end in an entirely new perspective...

  When the long leisurely meal was ended at last Hilary

  was tense with a pleasurable feeling of anticipation. The tension snapped, gave a strange little kick over her heart and tightened again as the Conde stood when she did and drew her chair out of her way.

  ‘You are going to join in the dancing, senorita?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes - the moment I have changed and made sure that Joaquin is safely installed in bed,’ she smiled back.

  ‘Till then, senorita.’ He inclined his head gravely and waited until she slipped past him before he turned to another guest.

  Hilary’s cheeks were glowing and her eyes were brilliant when she faced the tiny mirror in her room. It was going to be wonderful. She need never have had a moment’s doubt about her decision to take this job. And the possibility for which she had prepared herself - that she might be treated like a servant - showed no signs of arising. She had heard some au pair tales that were hair-raising, but this time her instinct hadn’t let her down. No employer could have been more kind or considerate, even though a somewhat dictatorial element was present at times ... The only fly in the ointment was Consuelo - thank heaven Consuelo wasn’t a member of the Pacquera clan!

  Quickly she slipped into the white voile dress with the silver embroidery at the neckline. It was flowing and misty, and she was glad she had brought it. The Conde plainly intended to join the dancing himself... it was going to be a wonderful experience to be able to dance out of doors at night, under the stars... something that the English climate rarely allowed back home ... What was the Conde like as a dancing partner...?

  But first she had to find Juanita.

  The strains of music floated in from the night and the scent of white roses massed on the ornate gilt gables in the wide hall rose to meet Hilary as she came downstairs. It mingled, not unpleasantly, with the rich aroma of cigar smoke coming from the open doors of the sala where some of the male guests were still gathered with their host. Hilary’s steps flitted lightly across the parquet, and more than one male head turned to watch the slender golden-haired girl who seemed to float in a mist of white and silver towards the wide doors opened to the patio.

  The night air came warm and velvet-soft to her bare throat and arms, but for the moment she was oblivious to it. Juanita seemed to have vanished.

  Only a few couples were dancing. Others stood or sat around on the garden terrace, and under the glow of the lanterns she saw the tall figure of the Conde, now immaculate in a cream tuxedo and dark elegant trousers that seemed to increase his height. He was talking to Sanchia and Consuelo, and biting at her lower lip Hilary turned away and made for the pergolas. A suspicion was now giving her some concern. There was no sign of Ramon, either, and it didn’t require much imagination to guess what made two. But where were they? The Navarre grounds stretched a considerable distance, and once away from the illuminated section near the house they were inky dark and strange with pitfalls for unfamiliar feet.

  Hilary gave a sigh of exasperation and at last turned back. She might search for hours for the young idiots. But what if someone else, not so sympathetic, came upon them accidentally? She emerged from the shadows and almost instantly she was caught by Consuelo.

  ‘We’ve been looking for you,’ said Consuelo. ‘Or rather Bruce has.’

  It seemed like the beginning of a conspiracy that night. She danced with him, twice, then was drawn into a group to have iced drinks, and left alone with him again.

  It was all done gaily, by most of the guests. She was English; Bruce was English. Therefore they must have lots to talk about; they must be drawn to each other, two compatriots meeting on foreign shores. Esta claro!

  Bruce laughed softly, as though he guessed at her thoughts, and guided her steps skilfully to the sensuous South American rhythm. ‘You might as well give in,’ he said against her ear. ‘You’re landed with me now, whether you like it or not.’

  ‘You’re landed yourself - whether you like it or not,’ she returned wryly.

  ‘I’m all for that. Shall I tell you a secret?’ he whispered.

  ‘Then it won’t be a secret any more.’

  Again he put his lips close to her ear. ‘It’s wonderful to have a cool, sweet English girl in my arms again. ’

  ‘Oh, are your arms so scorched after a succession of dark smouldering beauties?’ she teased.

  He groaned comically. ‘I always lead with my chin. Actually, I’ve led so pure a life during the past three years any convent would open its doors and say welcome. It’s true,’ he said indignantly when she laughed. ‘My God, they guard their daughters like rubies round here. And as for their wives—!’

  ‘Maybe they’ve got reason to while you’re around.’

  ‘Is that supposed to be sympathy?’

  ‘No, a search for the truth.’

  ‘Meaning that man never tells it?’

  ‘Does he?’

  ‘Always!’

  She laughed. He was proving terribly easy to talk to, and to fall back with into the old pattern of chaff and banter that didn’t commit either party one single iota. ‘Tell me about your work,’ she suggested.

  Nothing loath, he launched into an account of his day-to-day life as ranch manager of an estate into which his county at home could have been fitted easily and with room to spare. Listening to him, she realized that under the light, almost frivolous air he had displayed when they began to dance Bruce Gilford must be hard, capable, and immensely strong. Yet there was no trace of boasting, or the swaggering rough range rider about him, and she knew that he had a genuine love in his work and pride in his knowledge of stock.

  ‘Of course we’re mainly crop country here,’ he told her. ‘The Argentine’s the place for herds and horses, the rolling miles of ranges and the round-up that most people imagine as soon as you tell them what your job is. ’

  She nodded, suddenly glimpsing Juanita across Bruce’s broad shoulder. Juanita was dancing with her uncle, and in his arms she looked small, sweet and demure. As though she felt Hilary’s gaze she glanced up and gave a little smile of acknowledgment. Hilary gave a sigh of relief; there was no sign of Ramon among the dancers, but the Conde was the safest alibi of all for his niece.

  ‘I’d like to show you around, some time,’ Bruce was saying, ‘if you’re interested.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ Hilary responded.

  ‘Can you ride?’

  ‘Only on four feet with tyres,’ she said flippantly, and he laughed.

  ‘You’d better not say that to any South American.’ He paused, his brow frowning. ‘We must arrange something. Of course the ideal thing would be to have you come for a weekend - it’s the only way you could see around at leisure. But-’

  ‘Your place?’ she broke in.

  ‘I have my own house, with a couple who live in. Maria housekeeps and her husband Pedro does odd jobs along with working in Don Alonso’s gardens. So how about a day with me?’ he grinned. ‘The eyebrows would rise to heaven round here if you made it a week-end. ’

  ‘Thank you - I’d love to.’

  ‘Next week-end?’ When she nodded he said, ‘Fine. But you’ll have to make an early start or half the day will be lost with the travelling. If I picked you up at eight...’

  Making plans, he drew her to one of
the lacy iron seats dotted round the sides of the patio and got a drink for her. Presently Sanchia spotted them and came across, her smile friendly but still holding its hint of sadness. She said, ‘You and Bruce will have much to talk about. It is good that you should meet him. He will be able to show you round Lima and introduce you to his other English friends.’

  She turned as her sister approached. Consuelo was accompanied by a thick-set, swarthy-featured man called Miguel whose smile was bland and did not reach his eyes. He bowed formally to Sanchia and drew her away from the little group.

  Consuelo watched them, a faint frown between her heavy brows, then said abruptly: ‘Where is Juanita?’

  ‘She was here a moment ago.’ Hilary tried not to be ruffled by the other girl’s peremptory tone. ‘She was dancing with her uncle.’

  Consuelo stared across the patio. The music had stopped and there was no sign of Juanita. Fortunately, there was no sign of the Conde.

  Hilary said evenly: ‘I expect he’s getting her a drink. Would you like me to go and look for her?’ she offered.

  ‘No. You stay with Bruce.’ Unexpectedly, Consuelo bestowed a remarkably expansive smile on Hilary. ‘It must be exciting for you to come all this way and meet someone who lives almost next door to you at home. Bueno?’ she added to Bruce.

  ‘Bueno, senorita.’ He laughed, perfectly self-assured, and Consuelo moved away, presumably to search for Juanita herself.

  Bruce looked at Hilary. ‘Bueno?’ he whispered. ‘You don’t look very sure.’

  ‘No, it isn’t that.’ She had no responding smile to his teasing whisper. She hesitated, glancing round to see if they were alone for the moment. The instinct to trust him and the impulse to confide were too strong and she said in a low voice: ‘Bruce, I’m worried. You see, I’m sort of responsible for Juanita, and she keeps disappearing. And for some reason Consuelo seems to dislike her. I—’

  ‘I know.’ Bruce gripped her arm and stood up. ‘You’re afraid that young hearts are a-flutter and it’s strictly verboten!’ He drew a dramatic hand across his throat and led her out of the circles of illumination cast by the lanterns above. ‘Come on, we’ll winkle the young idiots out, wherever they are. Who’s the boy?’

  Hilary shook her head. That was one secret she had to keep, even as she feared that Consuelo had been in possession of it for quite some time. The music started again, and Bruce said wryly: ‘I’m in need of an excuse to miss out on the pasa doble! He seemed fairly well acquainted with the geography of the Navarre grounds - and the small secret sanctuaries that invited lovers to escape the crowd, or authority. The second one yielded Juanita, and a guilty, worried Ramon. Somewhat to Hilary’s surprise, Bruce played it as though he deeply regretted such an unwarranted intrusion. With a warning aside and pressure on her arm, he drew her away and into the shadows of an arbor. A moment later the ghostly white of Juanita’s dress flitted along the path in the direction of the main part of the garden; the dark figure of Ramon moved along the opposite path.

  ‘You see, said Bruce, preparing to move on. ‘Far better not to say anything. They’ve had a shock and they’ll be too scared to indulge in any more nonsense tonight. ’

  ‘Yes, I didn’t think of it that way.’ Hilary wondered why she hadn’t and chalked up a mental compliment to Bruce’s wisdom. Poor Juanita; she would be terrified if she hadn’t recognized the intruders. Impulsively she touched Bruce’s arm.

  ‘You won’t tell a soul about this, will you? I know I should scotch her little romance, but I haven’t the heart. It seems so harsh, this not letting her choose her own friends. I mean, conventions are all very well, but there’s a limit. How is she ever going to learn to judge human nature for herself?’

  ‘She doesn’t have to,’ Bruce said flatly. ‘It’s done for her, as her suitors will be judged for her and she’ll be expected to make the right choice.’

  ‘I could never make a marriage that way. I’d rather not marry at all.’

  ‘You’ve had a different upbringing.’ Bruce took out his cigarettes and when Hilary refused put them back in his pocket. ‘You must remember that in your dealings with Juanita. You have to realize that she’s been conditioned from childhood to accept a much more restricted mode of behaviour than you have. Given your freedom it’s doubtful if she’d be any happier. It’s the old spice of forbidden fruit. If she was free to throw her hat over the windmill with this boy he’d probably not seem nearly so attractive.’

  ‘But that’s the whole point,’ Hilary exclaimed. ‘I’m sure being free to choose friends helps a person to judge character.’

  ‘I agree, but if I were you I’d keep clear of any dispute and whatever you do don’t get involved in their intrigues. No matter how sympathetic you feel. Because no one outside their own circle really understands just how they’re going to react. You could find yourself involved in a first- class family explosion, and believe me, they’re no picnic. I know.’

  Something in his tone made Hilary check her step. She looked up at him. ‘You sound as though you speak from personal experience.’

  ‘I do. So take my advice, if you’ve a notion to help love’s young liberation along - forget it.’ He put one arm lightly around her shoulders to duck under a low hanging bough, and as they straightened he said in a lighter voice: ‘I’ll have to be getting back. When am I going to see you again?’

  ‘I thought we’d fixed that for next week-end,’ she said in equally light tones.

  ‘Yes, I know. I wondered if you’d be in town during the week. I have some business to see to mid-week.’

  ‘Maybe I’d better leave it till the week-end,’ she said slowly. ‘I’m not sure when I’ll be free.’

  ‘Next week-end, then. Mucho bueno, senorita!’ he said in dramatic tones, giving her shoulder a shake that was almost brotherly as they passed out of the same shadowed patch which Hilary had trod a few hours earlier with a companion much less predictable in mood.

  The soft radiance of the lanterns fell on her upturned face and the smile parting her mouth as she was about to make a light-hearted response to Bruce Gilford. It was never spoken. The dark shadow of the Conde fell across her path and stilled.

  He said with formal politeness: ‘You are enjoying the night, senorita?’

  Her face felt stiff and she wanted to wrench free of the friendly arm round her shoulders. She made herself remain composed and said steadily: ‘Very much, senor. It is a beautiful evening.’

  ‘Bueno.’ With an aloof inclination of his head towards Gilford, he moved away.

  Hilary watched him, unnoticing that Bruce had let his hand fall from her shoulder.

  'Bueno,’ she whispered. But it wasn't!

  They returned to the villa early on the Monday morning and Hilary had no regrets for the passing of the week-end. The Sunday had been unbearably hot and she had missed Bruce Gilford; it was the first time she had been conscious of being among strangers and the sensation was faintly disquieting.

  She unpacked her week-end case and tried to dismiss the trend of her thoughts. So Saturday had been a winner; despite the fiasco of the corrida she had enjoyed it, but why this urgency to analyse the why and wherefore of one day bringing pleasure and the next day dragging its hours through strained sociality?

  A blouse slipped off its hanger as she reached into the wardrobe and she exclaimed annoyance under her breath as she stooped to pick it up. Why didn’t she take out the stupid little thought and see its very stupidity? It was quite plain that the Conde believed she had been flirting with Bruce Gilford in the secret shadows of the garden; only hours previously he had issued a dictum regarding her mode of conduct in future, and she had never been left in any doubt of his opinion of femininity that did not conform. We do not respect...

  But she was different! And Bruce was English. What right did the Conde have to look down that disdainful nose of his? Did he think Bruce was starting to get fresh already, just because of his putting an arm round her? He must have a suspicious mind, she th
ought furiously. Anyway, the way they’d all gone on they’d practically thrown her at Bruce from the moment he arrived.

  ‘You look angry, my Hilary. What is the trouble?’

  She spun round. Juanita had come to the half-open door and peeped in curiously.

  She forced a smile. ‘Just thoughts. Where’s Joaquin?’

  ‘At lessons - we have peace for an hour or so.’ Juanita wandered into the room and studied herself in Hilary’s dressing table mirror. ‘Did you enjoy the week-end?’

  ‘ Some of it - most of it,’ she amended hastily. ‘And you?’ Juanita heaved a great sigh. ‘I’m so happy. And no one saw us except you and Mr. Gilford - he will not betray us, will he?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘He won’t betray anyone,’ Hilary said, too touched by Juanita’s youthful trust to be amused by her love of exaggerating everything in a dramatic manner. She said, ‘But you ran a risk, you know. Did you think you would have the garden to yourself for dalliance - on a moonlit night with all those guests there? What if it had been Consuelo instead of me?’

  ‘Caramba!’ Juanita giggled. ‘What man in his senses would choose Consuelo for dalliance in the moonlight? She is bad-tempered - and corregidora! I do not even consider her to be very beautiful. You know,’ Juanita lowered her voice confidentially, ‘she would like to be Condesa, but I do not think Tio will choose her. Sometimes I do not think he will ever choose anyone.’

  Hilary stayed silent. She looked down at the empty case and dosed it rather abruptly.

  Juanita said, ‘Do you remember Don Miguel?’

  ‘I think so.’ Hilary cast her memory back over the many guests who had gathered at the Navarre hacienda.

  Juanita, who seemed to be in the mood for confidences, prompted: ‘He is not as tall as my uncle, but mucho’ - she wrinkled her nose - ‘grueso, although he is not terribly old. His eyes are so—’ Again she stopped to convey expression, and Hilary gave a gesture of comprehension.