At the Villa Massina (9 page)

“So I find you here in the porch, babies! And how are you after so many days?”

“All right, thank you,” said Tony, “but we’re not babies.”

“No? But you sleep here like babies in the long chairs. And how is the little Rina?”

“Very well, thank you, Don Ramiro,” came sedately from the little girl. “We haven’t seen you for ages.”

“Four long days,” he concurred. “I was kept in Cadiz on business. You must tell me what has happened since I left.”

“Well,” said Rina considering, “there hasn’t been much. Yesterday Juliet and I bathed while Tony went fishing with Juan—he’s Luisa’s son, you know.”

“Yes, I know him—he is a fine boatman and handsome.”

“And he wears earrings. The day before that we went to a birthday party—and do you know, Don Ramiro, all the girls wore white frocks with sashes and the boys wore sailor suits.”

“Ah, the latest fashion,” murmured Ramiro understandingly. “It was also the latest fashion when I was a little boy. Tia Inez tells me you have not been to see her.”

“No, we haven’t,” replied Rina candidly. “I told Juliet that we go to the Castillo often when Mummy’s here, and she said we must wait till Mummy comes, then. I don’t think Juliet likes the Castillo as much as we do.”

“I think,” said Tony pompously, not to be outdone, “that she doesn’t like Spain.”

“But you are quite wrong,” Ramiro said, with an inflection that Juliet could not quite place. “Your Juliet is more of a stranger than you are, that is all. She does not wish to deprive you of anything.”

“Oh, we know that,” said Rina quickly. “Juliet’s great fun.”

“Hush,” said Ramiro sternly. “One does not say such things! The parents are always first and best—in everything.”

“But they’re not,” contributed Tony, practically. “I do think I’ve got the best Daddy, though.”

Ramiro apparently decided to leave it there. “And what are you doing now—waiting for lunch?”

“Yes, we’ve been swimming again—Juliet gave me a lesson,” said Rina. “She says I’m going to be a good swimmer.”

“Not as good as me,” boasted Tony. “I shall be a man, and men always do everything better than girls.”

Ramiro laughed. “I should not be too sure about that, nino. Where is Juliet now?”

“Indoors, mending Tony’s shorts. He slipped down the dunes and caught them on a twig.”

“It is very sad, that. You will excuse me, senorita? I will find this mender of trousers!”

Rina giggled at being called senorita, and Tony guffawed at something else, and then Ramiro came into the hall and stood in the sitting-room doorway. Whatever of gaiety there had been in his expression while he talked to the children was gone now, but he did have a cool smile on his lips.

“Ah, Miss Darrell. No, do not get up. I will sit, if I may.”

“Please do.” She herself was placed with her back to the window, her hair cloudy about her face, which was in shadow. “Did you want to see me about something?”

“I was concerned because my sister told me she had not seen you for several days. It seems she expected you.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“There was a letter yesterday from your cousin with the news that she will not be coming here for some weeks. It is a great pity.”

Juliet looked down at the needle she still held. “Yes, it is. I’m not really a good substitute for the children’s parents.”

“I did not mean that; if they must have a substitute you are very much the best choice. It keeps you tied, that is all. Had Ruy and his wife decided to arrive when we expected them, you could have been free to make some excursions in the district.”

She shook her head. “I was going home.”

His smile had sharpened slightly. “We would have persuaded you to stay for a while, I think. However, there is no doubt about it now. Inez wishes me to tell you that she will be happy to have the children at the Castillo whenever you feel the need for relaxation. I suggest you should feel that need on Saturday, when I am taking a party into the country.”

“It’s very kind of you, senor,” she answered with reserve.

A hint of satire in his voice, he said, “And you accept with joy. Bueno, let us talk of something else. You know that there is motor racing next week along the coast of the Bahia de Manca?”

“Yes. Old Pablo, the gardener here, was telling me about it.”

“Did you also know that Mario Perez has entered a new racing car?”

She looked at him swiftly. “But I thought all the drivers were professionals! Isn’t it very dangerous for anyone who’s inexperienced?”

A shrug. “Mario has driven in such races before, but never in this one, which is extremely trying. However, we shall see.”

“But can’t you dissuade him?” she asked, disturbed. “He may have raced before, but I don’t believe he’s the true type for it. Can’t his parents stop him?”

“Miss Darrell,” he said with deliberation, “when a man finds it necessary to prove his manhood in some demonstrative fashion it is both unwise and unkind to stop him.” He paused. “It is a strange thing about Mario. Quite suddenly he is tremendously alive and must taste everything. You are an astounding young woman.”

“It hasn’t anything to do with me, as a person,” she retorted. “Perhaps to someone shy I seemed more understanding than the sloe-eyed senoritas who expect him to be an expert...” she stopped suddenly.

“What were you about to say?” he asked softly, with a penetrating stare. “An expert lover?”

“Yes, I was, as a matter of fact,” she returned casually. “Not that he made love to me. But he did realize that I knew about as much on the subject as he did, so he didn’t have to be on guard!”

“You must have had many happy moments together!”

“The strange part of it is that I hardly know him. He’s trying to prove things to himself, not to me.”

“That is a wise conclusion,” said Ramiro. “It is exactly what he is doing. This motor racing is not for you, but for himself and for everyone who has known him all his life, for all those who have perhaps hinted that he is an exemplary young man but without much ... what is your word ... pep.” A smile, and an alien lift of the shoulders. “Now we have agreed upon that there is no need to discuss Mario further.”

As it happened, there was no need to discuss anything just then. The children came in, and they were hardly in the room when Luisa appeared at the door. The servant saw the Conde, curtseyed in much confusion and was about to withdraw when Tony caught her hand.

“Did you want me, Luisa?” asked Juliet.

“It is nothing senorita. Nothing urgent.”

“Well, is lunch ready?” demanded Tony. “I could eat a big fat dog.”

“That is esqueroso ... nasty!” Luisa was forced to tell him severely. “You will have no such thing.”

“I should give him the big fat dog for his lunch,” said Ramiro gravely. “It would certainly cure him of such tastes.”

Tony laughed. “I really want a pork pasta and peas,” he said. “Will you stay to lunch with us, Don Ramiro?”

Luisa went pale. “I have not prepared for the Senor Conde. There is only the cooked chicken and ham with salad. It is not fit...”

“As if one did not know,” interrupted Ramiro with a charming smile, “that chicken and ham cooked by the good Luisa is the best in San Federigo!” He slanted a faintly mocking glance at Juliet. “If the senorita will permit, I shall be most happy to accept your invitation, Tonio.”

Luisa loosed herself from the child, curtseyed again, frantically, and rushed back to the kitchen. Juliet sat still, while the children, too young and uninhibited to be awed scuffed out to wash their hands.

“You are not very cordial, Miss Darrell,” said Ramiro evenly.

“I’m sorry. I feel a little like Luisa—that I’d rather have had notice. For the children’s sake we eat plain food.”

“But naturally. Do not concern yourself with it. I have no wish to embarrass you, and if you would rather I did not stay...”

“I didn’t mean that,” she said hurriedly. “Please do, if you’d like to.” She hesitated. “Thank you for complimenting Luisa.”

“It was no compliment,” he replied suavely. “Only the truth.”

Luisa breathlessly announced that lunch was ready, and when they came into the dining-room Juliet was amazed at the changes the servant had managed in ten short minutes. The usual white damask cloth had been replaced by a pale blue linen one, embroidered in white, and the matching napkins were neatly arranged as a pyramid at each place. There were crystal tumblers and wine glasses, a small crystal vase of smilax and the best cutlery. Ramiro, of course, took it all for granted, but Juliet flashed Luisa a grateful smile, and all through the meal, which was unexpectedly garnished here and there with something quite unusual, she and the servant were anxious conspirators.

Tony, to his credit, forbore to comment upon the changes, though he did take some interest in the bottle of wine. Ramiro’s mood could not have been better for such an occasion; he made dry remarks for the children’s benefit, slipped in just the right number of exclamations to keep Luisa ecstatic, and masterfully relieved Juliet of the task of carving the ham, and serving.

It was odd. There were Juliet and the two children, a man to whom it was no trouble at all to please all of them; yet there was little intimacy. He remained the Conde de Vallos, kindly but aloof, good-humored while retaining that slight hardness.

The children drank milk, said adios and went upstairs to rest. Luisa brought coffee to the sitting-room, and Juliet poured. She clung instinctively to the sweetness of the moment, determinedly avoided meeting that dark intent gaze.

Everything was bright and in sharp focus. The windows with their draped curtains, the old carved tables, the bowls of scabious and miniature lilies; and Ramiro, in his immaculate light suit, his legs crossed carelessly, one hand, showing a crested ring, resting on the arm of his chair.

She stayed there, with her head against the tall back of the tapestry chair, her face small and sensitive, her mouth sweet, but unsmiling because of her thoughts. She drank some coffee with the flat taste of dread spoiling the flavor. And still she postponed the moment of voicing the reason for the dread.

“You are thinking of the bookshop in London?” he asked tentatively.

“No, I rarely think of it now. It seems so very far away.”

“Only a few hours. Tell me about it. Is it owned by some scholarly old man who keeps a bookshop because he likes books, or by some commercial chain company?”

“It’s owned by a man who likes books—he’s not particularly old or scholarly?”

“So? A bachelor?”

She smiled faintly. “Oh, no. He’s a plump sixty and well married. Normally I’m his only permanent assistant, but he’s taken on a substitute while I’m here.”

“You like the work?”

She nodded. “I like reading new books the moment they’re out, too, but I could never afford to buy many, so I get double enjoyment from my job.”

“What is this shop? Perhaps I have heard of it.”

She said quickly, “I don’t think you have; it’s in North London and we don’t advertise.”

“Will you find it easy to go back there, after this?” He threw out an indolent hand. “I see you here very plainly, but I cannot see you there, patiently advising people who
have no notion of what they wish to buy, wrapping up books and making out the small bills.”

“Don’t forget the dusting,” she said. “There’s lots of that.”

His smile displeased, he flicked his fingers. “And you pretend you do not mind! I think you must regard this post in a bookshop as a ... what is it ... stop-gap, till you marry.”

“But I don’t. When ... when the owner retires I may take over the management of the shop. But that’s all in the future. Do you have a library at the Castillo?”

“A small one. Most of my books are at Cadiz, where I have a very large collection. That is something else you must see before you leave us.” There was a short silence; then he said, “Senorita, I still have the cat’s eye ruby.”

The subject was open without her having done a thing about it. Cool indifference, Juliet reminded herself, to still her quivering nerves.

“I suppose so,” she said. “Are you willing to give it back to me now?”

“No. Have you again seen this man?”

“Yes, senor.”

Just faintly, his mouth thinned. That veneer wasn’t so impenetrable after all. “Did you tell him the stone is in my possession?”

Juliet tried to decide quickly whether it would be wise to answer this. For a moment she was tempted to tell him everything; Lyle’s name and occupation, his attraction to Inez, and even a part of the reason she had got to know the man. If Ramiro had not had that look of sharpness about mouth and nostrils she would certainly have used a little frankness, anyway. As it was, she made a decision which was to have far-reaching effects.

She said coolly, “I think you have entirely the wrong conception of the situation, senor. I’m not one of your household, to have my behaviour watched and disapproved of. Whatever you may think, I’m entirely free, and if I choose to be slightly friendly with a man who came from England it’s no one’s concern but my own. I demand that you return that stone to me!”