The Mountains of Spring (12 page)

‘
I think he tried to give me the impression that he hadn
’
t behaved very well. If he had explained things differently
...’

The old lady looked thoughtful.
‘
Yes, Diego can be strange, sometimes. He is too—what is the word? whimsical, I think.
’
And then, abruptly, she dropped Diego as if he were of no further interest.
‘
Tell me about your brother, my dear. He was very happy to see you, I expect.
’

C
aroline looked wry.
‘
Yes, I think so—I hope so. He feels a little uncomfortable, though. He hadn
’
t written to me for a long time, you see; that
’
s why I came to look for him.
’
She didn
’
t mind in the least discussing Peter with Senora Rivel. Somehow it seemed perfectly natural.

‘
Young men are often inconsiderate,
’
the Senora observed tranquilly.
‘
Especially where their relatives are concerned. I had a brother once
...
He was to have been a diplomat, but he thought he would like very much better to be an explorer, so he went away and travelled around the world for years, exploring tropical jungles. He never wrote
to any of us. And then one day he came back
...
with a long beard, very bad malaria and an Indian wife.
’

The English girl smiled.
‘
That must have been a shock to you.
’

‘
Yes, it was; the beard most of all, I think. The malaria he only had from time to time, and the wife
...’
Her brown eyes twinkled.
‘
She was a very elegant young lady. She had been brought up under the British Raj, and she thought that we in Mexico were quite primitive. She lives in Paris now—my brother is dead—and buys all her clothes from Givenchy. She is younger than I am, you understand.
’
And the Senora laughed as if the thought of her sister-in-law were a never-failing source of amusement to her.
‘
I do not know whether your brother has a beard, my child, but I think he cannot suffer from malaria, and I know he has not yet found himself a wife.
’

Caroline laughed,
‘
No.
’
And then she remembered the one thing about Peter that still worried her—in actual fact it was a brand new worry—and she felt an immediate urge to talk the whole
thing
over with this aged and extraordinarily sympathetic Spanish lady. She needed advice, and Senora Rivel was really the only person she could turn to.

‘
I was rather relieved to find that Peter hadn
’
t married,
’
she confessed.
‘
Getting to know a sister
-
in-law who was a complete stranger might have been rather an ordeal.
’

‘
A great ordeal,
’
the Senora agreed with feeling.

‘
I remember what it was like to get to know Shamira!
’

‘
I don
’
t know,
’
Caroline went on,
‘
whether there
is anyone in whom he
’
s—well, interested. But,
’
coming to the point with a rush,
‘
he paid a great deal of attention to someone he met last night!
’

‘
Ah, he did! Who was that?
’

‘
Senorita Dominguez.
’

The old lady drew a deep breath, and exhaled very slowly. Then she leant back in her chair.

‘
That one! You mean that you think he was attracted to her?
’

Caroline considered the matter.
‘
I think she made an impression on him. He doesn
’
t usually—well, he used not to flirt a great deal. And she
’
s
...
she
’
s a cripple.
’

‘
You mean that he would not be likely to
“
trifle” with her, as they say in the old novels?
’

She supposed that was what she did mean.
‘
But I don
’
t understand it,
’
she went on.
‘
And I
’
m rather worried. Peter must know that—that Miss Dominguez is engaged to your grandson.
’

Instantly the Senora
’
s eyebrows shot upwards. She had very expressive eyebrows.
‘
Is
Miss Dominguez engaged to my grandson?
’

Caroline stared at her.
‘
I thought you must know all about it,
’
she said. She sounded a little bleak—rather less light-hearted than she had done a few minutes earlier.

‘
I know nothing about it,
’
the old lady assured her.
‘
Who told you such a thing?
’

She thought for a moment.
‘
Why, your grandson. ... He told me himself.
’
And then, even as she spoke, she realized for the first time that Diego had never actually said he was going to marry Isabel Dominguez. At least
...
Her thoughts flew back to the previous evening. Last night he
had referred to her as his
‘
future wife
’
—but only, as far as she could remember now, after she, Caroline, had already spoken of her as his
fiancée
—but the fact remained that there had been no hesitation on his part. She regretted having jumped so quickly to conclusions
...
she should, of course, have waited until she was absolutely certain about the relationship between them before assuming so much. But one only had to see them together to realize that the Mexican girl adored Diego, and that he took at least a
v
ery strong interest in her. And he had told Caroline that she was
‘
of the greatest importance
’
to him. There couldn
’
t be much doubt.

‘
I
’
m afraid I assumed rather a lot,
’
she admitted.
‘
It—well, it just seemed obvious, somehow. I thought they must be engaged. And then last night, when I was talking to your grandson, I spoke of Miss Dominguez as his
fiancée
, and he—he didn
’
t seem at all surprised. He talked about her in the same way.
’

‘
Indeed! How very romantic!
’
But the Senora looked and sounded as if she thought it anything but romantic.
‘
He has said nothing to me of this. Of course, it is true that they have known one another all their lives, and they are absurdly fond of each other—Isabel is the daughter of a very old friend of Diego
’
s father—but I would not have thought ... I would never have believed that they were likely to marry.
’

‘
Perhaps I shouldn
’
t have said anything,
’
Caroline murmured uncomfortably, and rather flatly.

‘
Why, my dear child, if Diego has made up his mind he is unlikely to object to my knowing!
’
the old lady informed her with more than a touch of
dryness.
‘
He and Isabel are both completely independent. There is nobody with the smallest right to tell either of them that they cannot do what they like, and if there were I am afraid Diego would pay little attention! Which makes it all the more difficult to understand why, if this is true, I have not been told.
’
She paused.
‘
I have nothing against Isabel—except for the fact that I object to her living the life of an invalid when she has no need to do so— but I would not like to see her married to Diego. They would not suit one another.
’

Caroline
’
s attention had been caught.
‘
You say that Miss Dominguez has no need to live the life of an invalid? But surely—
’

‘
Well, she
’
s not a cripple, my dear! There is a paralysis in one of her legs, but they say that it is—I can never think of these words! —a psychological trouble. She does not wish to recover the use of the leg.
’
The old lady looked disapproving.
‘
At least she does not have to sit in a chair all day—she doesn
’
t have to be carried about. If she employed a stick, she could walk very well by herself. But her mother spoils her, and Diego spoils her, and now she thinks it her right to be looked after.
’

Caroline began to grow a little weary of the conversation.
‘
Perhaps,
’
she suggested,
‘
your grandson enjoys spoiling Miss Dominguez.
’

‘
Yes, perhaps he does. But I still refuse to believe that he is in love with her.
’

‘
Well ...
of course, you know Senor Rivel better than I do.
’
Caroline felt that she had already said more than she should have done.
‘
The thing that worries me,
’
she went on more briskly,
‘
is that if there is anything between them Peter obviously
doesn
’
t know about it. And your grandson very much disliked his taking such an interest in Miss Dominguez last night. He—he told me so.
’

‘
Who told you? Your brother or my grandson?
’

‘
Senor Rivel
...
He said he was afraid he had made a mistake in introducing them.
’
As she spoke, certain other remarks which the Mexican had seen fit to make on the previous evening came into her mind, and once again she flushed slightly.

‘
Did he make himself unpleasant about it?
’

‘
No. No, actually he didn
’
t.
’
For the first time it occurred to her that he had really been remarkably restrained.
‘
It was a very—very pleasant evening.
’
It
had
been; after the first awkward half hour or so—after—in fact, his dance with Caroline—Diego
’
s temper had improved noticeably, and he had gradually turned into a positively genial host
...
or at least, he had been as genial as it was possible for him to be when everything he did was always unfailingly correct. Whether or not his description of herself as being reminiscent of a white rosebud in a moonlit garden had been absolutely correct in the circumstances was a point she didn
’
t go into, but although the thought of the compliment had embarrassed her for some time afterwards she felt that he had been putting himself out to be charming to her in order to make up for his earlier behaviour, and she had to admit to herself that her attitude towards him had undergone a complete change. Not that she had been swayed by being likened to a white rosebud—that, she considered, was simply the sort of extravagant remark that any South American, however formal and reserved, might occasionally resort to when putting himself out to be pleasant to a woman—but in the course of the previous evening he had somehow seemed to emerge as somebody quite different from the person she had imagined he was. He had been perfectly affable to Peter, and as the conversation around their table became more general the latter
’
s embarrassing attempts to monopolize Isabel Dominguez had ceased to be noticeable. She didn
’
t think that Peter had lost interest in the Mexican girl, and she very much wanted to have a talk with him about it—to warn him. But by the time their party had broken up the night before there had seemed so little tension in the air that she hadn
’
t thought it desperately urgent, and she had decided that it could safely be left until the next time she saw her brother. When they left the Casa d
’
Espana it had been far too late for her to have a serious talk with Peter, and she had simply assumed that it wouldn
’
t be long before she saw him again. And now, thanks to what could only be taken as a kindly gesture on the part of his employer, Peter would be remaining in Mexico City for a fortnight, and she wouldn
’
t even have to follow him back to Toluca. Everything was simplified.