Fascination (13 page)

‘Carlos is not having an affair!’ seethed Hydee, sparks of fury igniting in her eyes. ‘You’re just trying to make mischief, Isobella, because Carlos didn’t marry the girl you wanted him to! But it’s wicked to say he’s having an affair with Arminda, because you know it’s all lies!’ Control was almost gone, but by a supreme effort Hydee recovered, and her head was lifted with pride, her shoulders squared, as she looked into the arrogantly hostile face of the woman who had hated her from the moment of their first meeting—no, even before that, before they had even met.

Slowly Isobella moved to the chair on which she had left her bag. ‘It’s natural that you should try to convince yourself that what I’ve said is untrue,’ she sneered, ‘but if you don’t believe
me
, ask Gasper. He’s so clever, poking into the private affairs of every one of us so that he always has something to hold over us. Yes, ask him about Carlos and Arminda. They became lovers almost as soon as Arminda and her mother came to live in this district.’

‘Isobella,’ Gasper hissed through his teeth, ‘will you take your bag and get out of here?’

The door closed more quietly this time. Hydee turned to Gasper and said on a note of dull resignation, ‘What she said is true, isn’t it? Carlos and Arminda
are
lovers. They wouldn’t be together in London now if they weren’t.’

The frown that creased his forehead answered her, and something sharp and cruel slashed its way into her heart, coiling around it like a poisonous snake. Only now did she fully realise that, despite all that had occurred, all that looked black against her husband, deep within her she had clung to a ray of hope and trust. For although she had admitted that Carlos cared for Arminda, Hydee had been unable to accept that he was her lover.

‘I’m sorry, Hydee,’ said Gasper hoarsely. ‘I’d have done anything for this not to have happened. Isobella… she’s poison! I’ve said so before, and I say it again!’

‘I’d have found out sometime,’ said Hydee with a little choking sob. She could not help thinking about her new relationship with Carlos, a relationship which she had cherished with tenderness and the hope that, one day in the future, he would return her love.

And now there was no hope for her, no future, because she was unable to see herself living with a man who had a mistress as well as a wife. Yet what about the children? How could she leave them now that they had grown to love her?

‘Hydee….’ Gasper’s voice recalled her and she looked at him through eyes shadowed by unhappiness. ‘What can I say, Hydee, dear? How can I help?’

A bitter smile twisted her mouth. ‘No one can help, Gasper,’ she answered gently. ‘My friend Ellie warned me I was making a mistake, and now I know she was right. I wouldn’t listen because I thought I knew what I wanted. It never occurred to me that I’d fall in love with my husband…. It all seemed so nicely cut and dried in the beginning, but fate stepped in, and now where are all my well-laid plans and resolutions?’

‘Try not to be bitter, Hydee. It will destroy you swifter than anything I know. Look at Isobella—she’s bitter over Carlos’s choice of a wife, and the bitterness is eating into her very soul.’

‘She’s still hoping that Arminda will one day become Carlos’s wife.’ A pause, but Gasper did not speak. He had pulled the bell rope and Hydee realised he felt the need of a drink—a strong one, probably. ‘Perhaps she’ll achieve her ambition—I don’t know. I can’t even think clearly.’

‘It’s understandable.’

‘Are you taking me out to lunch?’ She scarcely knew why she said that; all she did know was that a certain lethargy was slowly creeping over her, soothing her in some unbelievable way, almost numbing her mind to the pain inflicted on it within the last few minutes. Reaction would undoubtedly set in, she knew, but for the present she wanted only to get away from here, away from the Palacio and especially this particular room, which she felt she would always hate.

‘Shall we have it at my home, or would you rather go to a restaurant?’

She considered a moment. ‘At your home, I think, Gasper.’

‘You do know that Carlos won’t approve?’ Gasper watched Hydee intently as he spoke.

‘I shan’t tell him what I’ve been doing while he’s been away.’ Hydee’s words had an object tive quality which produced a frown on Gasper’s brow. She knew he was remembering that she was in love with her husband, and yet she had no incentive to guard herself against Carlos’s displeasure.

‘Very well, Hydee, my home it is.’

Chapter Eleven

A gentle breeze stirred the pine trees and chestnuts and the flag on the central tower of the Palacio as Hydee stood on the terrace listening to the children’s laughter and recalling vividly the first time she had heard it. So much had been at stake then… and so much had happened since that it was hard to believe it was little more than two months since she had come to Portugal and to the Quinta de Manrique.

Two short months since she had been plain Miss Merrill, and now she was the Marquesa de Alva Manrique, wife of a Portuguese nobleman with whom she had made a marriage of convenience and with whom she had been foolish enough to fall in love.

In love with a man who, she knew, loved another woman, the beautiful Arminda, whose background was as noble and illustrious as that of the man she had hoped to win for a husband.

Hydee’s thoughts returned to the children as she heard them laughing again, and then the laughter stopped and they were speaking in Portuguese. It was impossible for her to understand the conversation they were carrying on as they played and ran about, but she heard the word ‘mama’ and a smile touched her lips to give her face a glancing tenderness and enchanting beauty of which she was entirely unaware. She listened intently, hearing it again, this time from Ramos, who then said in English, ‘I love her more than you do!’

‘No you don’t!’

Happiness lit her eyes despite the bitterness within her, and it was at that moment that she heard footsteps and swung around to look into the bronzed and handsome face of her husband. Her heart grew cold but her expression did not change to reveal her torment, and she heard Carlos say, ‘You look particularly charming today, Hydee. What is it?’

‘I was listening to the children,’ she answered coolly. ‘They were talking about me.’

‘Yes, I heard them. They were arguing as to which one loves you the most.’ He paused, but she had nothing to say. It was a silent moment, tense and with something unfathomable in the atmosphere.

‘It was wonderful to hear it,’ she said stiffly.

‘Very gratifying,’ he agreed. And then, ‘You’re obviously happy about the children and the way they’ve accepted you, but are you still happy about our relationship?’

Her eyes flew to his. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she quavered, wondering if he were about to tel! her he had made a mistake in marrying her. He’d been home less than four hours, having arrived at half-past eleven that morning, and when she inquired if his business had been conducted successfully, he merely said yes, offering nothing more. But he had seemed preoccupied, and across the luncheon table Hydee had caught him looking oddly at her as if he had something on his mind which concerned her as much as himself. But he had gone to his study afterwards and she had not seen him again until now.

‘I just wondered, that was all.’

‘It’s a strange thing to bring up, Carlos.’ Her voice was low and dignified; she seemed to be imbued with an added pride, as if nature were providing her with an armour against the feeling of inferiority she had known from the very first, caused mainly, she supposed, by the attitude of her husband’s family rather than by Carlos himself. ‘You must have a reason. What is it?’ Her words were a demand, and she saw his eyes darken a little as if he resented her temerity.

‘Never mind,’ he returned abruptly. ‘Forget it.’ And he strode away, going back to his study. The next time Hydee saw him was at the dinner table. It was an almost silent meal, and when it was over Carlos said he was very tired and was going to bed.

Hydee forced herself to take a stroll in the garden, choosing one of her favourite paths through delightful masses of flowers—azaleas and roses, arum lilies and camellias and many others, some blooming together, others having been planted for the purpose of having colour in the garden for most of the year. Now, in the moonlight, only the perfumes were real. Hydee inhaled over and over again, trying desper ately to divert her thoughts, seeking relief from the pressing agony of her situation.

As the moments passed, anger transcended all else, anger against the man who had brought something intimate and personal into a relationship which ought not to have been closer than that of nanny and employer. That was how it had begun and how Carlos had given her to understand it would continue. The fact that she had fallen in love with him had no bearing on the matter, because it was her own private affair, a circumstance unknown to Carlos, who had taken her for the pleasure of the moment without thought to what her feelings might be.

Her anger had abated somewhat by the time she was in her bedroom, yet as she stared at the closed door behind which her husband was probably sleeping soundly by now, she was assailed by a surge of indignation and humiliation which swiftly brought in its wake a resolve to keep him out of her room altogether. If he wanted physical satisfaction, then let him go back to Arminda!

She showered and slid between the cool white sheets, only to lie awake for several hours before falling into a short and fitful sleep. So she was not at her brightest when she went into the nursery to get the children ready for school the next morning. However, she did manage to hide her tiredness so that neither the children nor Carlos noticed anything unusual.

At the breakfast table they chatted as was customary, but Carlos seemed in no mood either to listen or to participate, and Hydee breathed a sigh of relief when eventually she was able to say, ‘Come along, you two, it’s time you were moving.’

‘I wish it was a holiday,’ sighed Ramos. ‘How long is it to Christmas?’

‘About seven weeks,’ replied Hydee.

‘That’s a long time.’

‘You’ll be wearing bigger shoes by then,’ laughed his sister, with a saucy glance in her father’s direction, ‘so you’ll get more in the one you leave on the mantelpiece!’

‘Shoe…?’ Hydee looked from one to the other, a bewildered expression on her face.

‘In Portugal we put a shoe on the mantelpiece at Christmas and we have our presents put in it.’

‘Some of our presents,’ submitted Luisa. ‘Only the little ones; the big ones are put in a bag and set on the hearth, aren’t they, Papa?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’ He was looking at his wife as he spoke. ‘It’s our custom to put our shoes out on Christmas Eve before we go to bed.’

‘That sounds an unusual and charming idea.’

‘It’s unusual to you, Hydee, but not to us; it’s what we’ve always been used to.’

Later, Hydee went out for her driving lesson, and on her return she saw Arminda’s beautiful sleek limousine standing on the forecourt of the Palacio, and something froze within her. How dare the woman come here!

Fury born of jealousy led Hydee to the salon, where she suspected Arminda would be. But as she reached the half-open door, she heard her name mentioned and stopped abruptly. It was Arminda’s mother, Dona Lucia, who was speaking, in English, much to Hydee’s surprise.

‘Arminda’s heartbroken, Carlos—but you don’t need me to tell you that. What is to come of this business? Why did you go to London, to be with her all that time, if you had no intention of doing something about this impetuous marriage of yours?’

‘You know why I was with her in London.’ Carlos paused, but the woman did not speak, and after a moment Carlos added, ‘Arminda wouldn’t have made a good and affectionate mother for my children. You must realise, Dona Lucia, that whatever my feelings are for Arminda, I must put my children’s happiness first.’

‘You say this about my daughter, implying that she’s hard and wouldn’t take to another woman’s children, but you have no proof, Carlos! You merely make an assumption. Well, I haven’t come here to spend time in that sort of argument or complaint; I have come to see what you intend to do about putting your mistake right. You’ll not deny you love Arminda, I hope?’

An agonising pain struck at the nerves in Hydee’s head as she began to walk away, slowly, because her legs seemed to be leaden weights beneath her.

‘I can’t deny it, can I? But I had to make the sacrifice in order to ensure my children’s happiness, which, Dona Lucia, will always come before mine….’

Going to the telephone, Hydee rang Gasper. ‘I want to come out with you,’ she said dully. ‘Please come and fetch me.’

‘What’s wrong?’ began Gasper, but Hydee interrupted him.

‘Please come and fetch me,’ she begged. ‘I must get away.’

‘All right,’ he agreed. ‘In about half an hour.’

‘I’ll meet you along the road, by the ruins of the old monastery.’

‘I’ll be there,’ he promised, and the next moment there was silence on the line.

Hydee wrote a note for Carlos, which she gave to Caterina. The girl was in Hydee’s room, returning some newly laundered dresses and blouses to her wardrobe, and Hydee sat down and penned the short note saying she was going out with Gasper and would not be in for lunch. Caterina looked at the name on the sealed envelope and then at her sadeyed mistress.

‘I will give it to him, Dona Hydee,’ she said gently. ‘You are going out?’

‘That’s right, Caterina. And as Dom Carlos is presently engaged, I can’t disturb him, so that’s the reason I am giving you the note.’ Aware of the girl’s intent gaze, Hydee turned away, going over to the wardrobe to pick out one of the pretty cotton dresses which Caterina had just hung there. Caterina was puzzled, mainly by the fact that Hydee had not given the note to Bento, who was the more obvious person to deliver it to his master. Caterina probably knew of Bento’s attitude towards his new mistress; he was civil, and that was about all. He often spoke in Portuguese and had to be corrected by Carlos, as he had once been corrected by Gasper. Hydee thought he would have used his own language all the time had he dared.