Perchance to Marry (9 page)

“A very distant one,” said Marcus. “He’s no more my cousin that you are.”

“Oh, I naturally thought, as you took charge...”

“I did that for Dona Inez,” he said. “For her sake I’ve tried to get Josef to take a job in Spain. But the minute you speak of work he knows of some easier way to get money.”

“That’s not quite fair. Some people find life much more difficult than others, and that’s particularly true of the creative type. Is he really an artist in ceramics?”

“Yes, he’s pretty good.”

“You sound grudging. If he’s good, why can’t you help him to get the factory he wants?”

“Because I’d probably be left with it on my hands after a year, or less. You don’t know Josef at all. I know him too well.”

“Well, can’t you help him to get started in the same thing somewhere else? I mean, couldn’t he become a partner to someone who’s already established? Then if the time came when he wanted to back out...”

“I wouldn’t wish Josef on to anyone. When it suits him he can be strong-minded and independent, but you never know quite what he’s up to. I haven’t seen him for two years, but I know he’s been trying to get some cash, through Katarina.” He stopped speaking, turned into a lilac-bordered lane and then added, “Josef upset a very sweet San Palos girl when she was on the point of marrying someone else. The engagement was ended, but after Josef had been absent for some time we all thought the young couple might come together again. His return just now may set the thing back a couple of years. He’s a damned nuisance.”

“He’s not fit,” Sally said. “Hasn’t he a home somewhere?”

“No.” Marcus spoke dismissively, in hard tones. “Be careful what you say to him. If he should suspect our engagement we’re finished ... and so is Dona Inez.”

Sally would have liked to defend the dark young man with the pale face and black curly hair above the white bandage. But they were approaching a long low house which was set in a small formal garden among the lilacs, and she could see a middle-aged man and woman rising from their chairs on the lawn and coming to the drive, to greet them.

Marcus bowed over the woman’s hand, shook that of the man. “Don Pedro and Dona Isabel ... this is Miss Sheppard. Senor and Senora Suarez,” he said to Sally. “Carlos’s brother and sister-in-law.”

They were also Marcus’s relations, presumably, but perhaps because they were in their fifties he spoke to them distantly and politely. Don Pedro, he explained, managed the perfume distillery.

The woman, dark-skinned, wearing black with a touch of white and an ornamental comb in her coiled grey-black hair, smiled agreeably at Sally and took both her hands. Her English was guttural and abominable, but that rather endeared her to Sally.

“So you are zees
novia
of v’ich ve’ear. Ve ’ave vondered ven Marcus bring you to see us, and den, soddenly, ’e say zis morning you vill com’. So ’appy ve are to meed you,
senorita
!”

Her husband spoke as Carlos did, in good English heavily accented. Obviously they had been prepared for this visit, for no sooner were the four of them seated under a wide magnolia tree than an oldish maid who was bad on her feet wheeled out a wrought-iron trolley loaded with coffee and chocolate and fancy cakes. Sally answered their questions. Oh, yes, she liked San Palos very much, though she hadn’t yet seen much of the coast. The nursing home? Dr. Suarez had taken her there yesterday. No, she had never before seen this variety of lilac; the flowers looked enormous and the scent, even before they were full-blown, was heavenly.

“The essence,” Senor Suarez assured her, “is not heavenly at all. It is too concentrated. From each kilo of flowers we extract only two or three drops, so that an ounce of the essence is worth much money. We will ask you,
senorita,
to honor us this year at the Lilac Fiesta—to be our queen, if Marcus will permit it.”

“Why not?” said Marcus, with an amused smile. “She’ll be the fairest queen you’ve ever had.”

“But I don’t belong here,” Sally said hastily. “Please choose someone else!”

“You do not understand,” the Spaniard murmured reassuringly. “Our Lilac Fiesta is not like the Mardi Gras or the Battle of Flowers. The pickers work unceasingly, day and night, for perhaps two weeks. When the final batch is in the presses the pickers collect their pay—and what is the good of money if there is no way of spending it soon? So for two days they rest and prepare. In the field near the distillery they erect sideshows and cafes, a platform for their band, and a throne of lilacs for the queen, who must be gowned in white with sprays of lilac.”

“Mos’ bewdiful,” crooned his wife. “You vill look sharming!”

“I really couldn’t,” said Sally desperately. “Marcus...”

But he was no help at all. “Why not give the folk a treat?” he said reasoningly. “You won’t have to do a thing except sit in your bower and smile for about half an hour. After that, you dance a couple of times and then disappear.”

“But isn’t the whole affair an island celebration? Isn’t it more fair to have one of the local girls as queen? And in any case, in three weeks’ time I’ll ...” She broke off, dry lipped.

Marcus said suavely, “Don Pedro, as the head of the business, has invited you, and you can accept provisionally. He doesn’t expect more than that at the moment.”

“Of course nod,” came throatily from the gracious Dona Isabel. “Vill you some more shocolate like?”

Sticky from the moments of apprehension, Sally politely declined, and to her relief Marcus said they must go. But the ordeal wasn’t over yet. Senora Suarez rang the bell on the trolley and spoke swiftly in Spanish to the woman who had hobbled out to answer it. Sally caught a swift glance of warning from Marcus, and was glad, in the next few minutes, that she hadn’t missed it.

For the servant went off and returned carrying a six-inch silk-covered square box which Senora Suarez took from her.

With great decorum, holding the box in both hands, the Spanish woman presented it to Sally.

“Please to receive this, vith our vishes from the ’eart. My ’usband will explain.”

Senor Suarez bowed, and spoke quietly with a smile. “Marcus understands these customs of ours, but as an engagement happens only once in a man’s lifetime he will not, perhaps, be fully aware of what this betrothal means to us, his family.”

“It still isn’t official, you know,” Sally said desperately. “Couldn’t you please...” Marcus’s hand closing tightly about her elbow magically cut off the flow.

The
senor
shrugged comprehendingly. “This gift is not for the engagement. It is for the woman who has come into our family—a personal gift from my wife to you. Please open the box.”

With quivering fingers Sally lifted the lid. Inside the box, separated by folds of fine white velvet, lay two exquisite crystal perfume containers; one was a bottle with a glass stopper and the other was spherical with a gold spray cap. The latter held a champagne-colored liquid.

“San Palos lilac,” said Don Pedro. “It was blended in Paris.”

Somehow Sally kept a hold on the box and managed to stammer her thanks. The two were benign and understanding, and touchingly pleased that their gift should make such an impression on Marcus’s fiancée. Perhaps for safety’s sake, Marcus took charge of the precious box before he added his thanks to Sally’s and put her into the car.

Sally said her goodbyes and waved her hand, felt the trembling leave her limbs and vexation fill her throat like angry tears. They were back on the road when she eventually trusted herself to speak.

“That’s the ninth gift! Why do you let these people keep giving me things? Those presents from guests the other night and the set of leather-bound books from Carlos. They’re not mine and I don’t want them!”

“Just an old del Moscado custom,” he said with infuriating
calm “I
can’t get worked up about a few scent sprays and books and trinkets. There’s too much else involved.”

“Well, why in the world do they have to anticipate the official engagement?” she choked. “I can’t stand it!”

“Oh, come, you’re losing your sense of proportion. They’re my relatives and the gifts are the customary tokens. Put them away and forget them.”

“What about this beastly
fiesta
?” she returned crossly. “I’m darned if I’ll be their lilac queen!”

“But just imagine,” he said mockingly. “A white gown sprayed with lilac and the little flowerets forming a crown on your hair. Mos’ bewdiful. You vill look sharming!” Suddenly, because in spite of being angry she was amused by his atrocious mimicry, she laughed aloud. He slipped his arm round her shoulder and squeezed it, and for a startled moment she looked up. As she did so her nose brushed his chin and he turned a light kiss upon her cheek. She drew a quick breath and got back into her corner.

“That’s not in the bargain,” she said in controlled tones. “Don’t do it again.”

“Why?” with satire. “Are you afraid you might want to kiss me back?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I’ve agreed to stand in for Nadine Carmody, but only up to a point. And that point doesn’t include kisses, matey or otherwise.”

Abruptly, he withdrew his arm and let his foot go down hard upon the accelerator. They shot forward. Not another word or look was exchanged between them, but when they reached Las Vinas she saw the bitterness lining one corner of his mouth, and heard cynicism in his voice as he said, in the hall,

“You’re quite attractive, damn you. But I sure picked a fledgling in you, didn’t I? Run along.”

She went up the staircase to her room, carrying the pink silk box as if it were a bomb. But inside the room she stood rooted, staring at the confusion on the writing table, the half-open drawers.

CHAPTER FIVE

IT was not a wanton confusion; Sally saw that at once. Rather it was as though the person who had been looking for something had had little time in which to do it; had she been absent another ten minutes Sally might never have known that her room had been searched.

She moved forward and placed her box on the dressing table, where things had merely been pushed aside to clear a space for operations. But what operations? What had they hoped to find here? More important, what had they
found
?

Quickly, her fingers uncertain, Sally went through her belongings. Lingerie had been hunted through and left lumpy, the wardrobe doors were ajar, the small valise she kept in there had been lifted out and opened. It was the contents of the valise which were scattered on the writing table; letters, her passport, birth certificate, bank book and a few odd papers relating to St. Alun’s. The strange thing was that not a single item seemed to be missing. What in the world had they wanted? Had they heard the car returning, perhaps seen it from the balcony, and had to slip away before completing their search? If so, they might try it again.

She shivered in the midday warmth, went across to the balcony and looked down on to the only part of the courtyard which was visible—a length of the wall and the top of the steps. Josef, in a white shirt and dark trousers, stood there, looking worn and disconsolate. He had apparently called for a drink, for as Sally watched, Katarina brought him a glass and he thanked her for it. They spoke for a minute, then Katarina touched his hand with the familiarity of an old retainer and went away.

Sally backed into her room, passed a hand over her forehead. She ought to report this upheaval in her room to Marcus, wouldn’t have hesitated but for those last minutes in the car. Better to think it over a little, anyway.

As she tidied the desk and dressing table Sally’s mind did its utmost to focus on the seemingly senseless rooting among her possessions. One of the servants? It was most unlikely; they’d expect her to tell Marcus and be terrified of the consequences. Josef Carvallo? Poor Josef; according to Carlos his wound was deep and might throb for days when he moved his head quickly. He was certainly in no condition to make a lightning trip upstairs and a hurried search. And what would he be looking for? What would
anyone
expect to find in Sally Sheppard’s room?

There came a rap at the door and she called, “Come in.” But Katarina remained in the opened doorway. “Dona Inez says she has missed your visit with Don Marcus this morning. Don Marcus is now with guests who have been waiting for him, and the
senora.
says she will see him later. But you will come now,
senorita
?”

“Alone?” asked Sally, perturbed. She hadn’t yet seen the old lady alone.

“It is what she asks,” stated the woman with a shrug. Her dark eyes were blank, but the mole near the left corner of her brown lips twitched as she added, “Do not forget the ring you always wear for Dona Inez. If it is absent she will notice.”

Sally slid the ring on to her finger, and as she straightened she looked at Katarina, .the faithful servant who fiercely loved the old
senora
and Marcus. Clearly, she said, “I’ve had a most disturbing experience, Katarina. When I came in fifteen minutes ago this room was almost a shambles. Someone had been searching through my things.”

Katarina looked startled. “
Dios
! Is that true? How could it be so? Up here there has only been the
senora
and myself and Maria, who cleans the rooms. I have been with Dona Inez all the morning until a few minutes ago, when I made a tisane for her and gave some to Josef, who has been complaining of pain in his head. I cannot be completely sure that no one has come to this side of the house, but it is most unlikely.”

“Well,
someone
did it.”

“Then you must tell Don Marcus at once. Something was stolen?”

“No, nothing. I don’t want to upset the household, so I won’t tell anyone unless it happens again. Are you certain there’s been no one up here?”

“I have been all the time with the
senora
—how can I be certain? All I can say is that there have been only four servants, Dona Inez and Senora Sheppard in the house—except the guests who arrived half an hour ago and were greeted by the
senora
your mother.”

“Who are they?”

“Captain Northwick, Mr. McCartney of the hotel, and the Commander of Naval Bay, with his wife.”

“Mr. McCartney? Has he been here as a guest before?”

“A few times.” Katarina’s shrug indicated her opinion of the hotel proprietor. “There is some business deal, I think.”

“Would Mr. McCartney be able to get up here?”

“I think not. Why should he search your room? Why should
anyone
search your room?”

“I wish I knew the answer to that. If I discover it was a maid,” she said distinctly, “I’ll get her sacked.”

“It was no maid,” returned Katarina. “They are much too happy, all of them, to have you here as the fiancée of Don Marcus; they would not risk your displeasure in any way. You would be well advised to tell Don Marcus. He will get to the root of it. Will you come now? The
senora
takes her luncheon at twelve-thirty, and it is nearly that time.”

Sally slanted a hurried glance at herself in the dressing-table mirror as she passed it to go from the room. Luckily she didn’t look as flustered as she felt. She followed Katarina along the corridor, past the landing and on into the far room. Alone, she entered it.

Dona Inez, looking smaller than ever, was lying back among her pillows. Today her bed-jacket was a delicate pink which made the skin of her cheeks look thinner and paler; her eyes were dark, but not quite so fiery as usual, though they followed Sally’s movements with birdlike keenness.

Her voice sounded a little hoarse this morning. “Come and sit, my dear. For the first time we are alone, no?”

Sally took the chair beside the bed, smiled gently. “It’s against the rules, I believe.”

“The rules of Marcus, yes. Early this morning he told me you two would come to me for tea this afternoon. But I knew you had returned and that he would be with the guests, so I told Katarina to see if you were in your room. It is time we had a talk. When Marcus is here you say nothing.”

“Is it good for you to talk today,
senora
?”

“It is good,” she answered firmly. “We will not discuss, only chat. Tell me where you and Marcus have been this morning.”

This was easier than Sally had anticipated; she relaxed slightly. “We visited Don Pedro and Senora Suarez.”

“Ah, I like Pedro, and my niece Isabel is a good woman, even though she has the speech of a
campesina.
You enjoyed the visit?”

“Very much, and I thought the lilacs enchanting.”

“Soon they will be unbearably beautiful, and then they will vanish.” The gnarled, bony fingers of her hands became hooked together like claws. “And Marcus—do you find him also enchanting?”

“Not exactly. He’s too down-to-earth for that.”

“But no. One’s companion in love
should
be enchanting.” She paused, rested her gimlet glance once more upon the fair young face. “There are perhaps things about this being in love that you do not understand. When you are in here with Marcus I can feel it. He is a man of strong reactions and you are young and inexperienced. Does it worry you that you do not make him happy?”

Alarm sent a chill through Sally. For a second she was on the verge of a vehement disclaimer, but the next moment it came to her that this was an opportunity she might use, very carefully.

“You feel Marcus is not happy,
senora
?” she asked quietly.

“I have always felt his moods. We have always been very close, Marcus and I. Over the years our more intimate contacts have necessarily been fewer. He is a man, with a man’s appetites and needs, and I am only an old woman who cares more for him than for anyone else, but who knows nothing of his world outside San Palos. Since he has returned with you he has not been himself. He is too suave, and his good humor does not go deep. Underneath, his mood is dark.”

And good reason for it, Sally thought bleakly. He’d been turned down by the woman he had chosen; he’d shown intolerance, really, but to his autocratic mind it didn’t look that way. The way he saw it, a few months of acting in America had taken his place in the heart of Nadine Carmody.

“That’s something I can’t explain, I’m afraid,” she said. “I’m not at all sure what it takes to make Marcus happy.”

“In that, he is no different from other men. He needs your love and dependence on him. There are things about him that you naturally do not know, but if you love him well you will learn them. Do you know how I really feel about Marcus?”

“Yes, I think so,” said Sally, very carefully. “He’s ... he’s everything.”

“I did not mean my love for him. There is the other thing—his love for me. Always, throughout the years, he has come back to
madrecita.
Sometimes there have been many months, and once, while he was at university, he stayed away for two years. But then a day came when he walked up the steps and I was there in the courtyard to greet him. He has never been disappointed in me because always I have been here, waiting. Many times he has said, very English, ‘You are a lightweight anchor, old lady, but the strongest in the world.’ Do you comprehend what I am saying?”

“Yes,” said Sally thinly. “I believe I understand very well.”

“Then you will tell me ... plainly, so that I may be sure.”

Sally resisted an urge to moisten her lips. She looked at the frail little woman, managed a smile and replied, “It comes back to something you’ve said yourself, to Marcus; you want him to marry soon. You want to be sure he’ll always have the strong anchor, someone he loves and needs.”

“Good.”

Apparently, having reached that point, Dona Inez had decided she needed respite. She closed her eyes, and Sally hoped rather desperately that she would either slip into a doze or wave her away. The minutes passed. The scent of roses drifted up from the climbers on the balustrade and the dainty gold clock on the mantelpiece sent its merry little ticking across the room. Sally shifted, and at once the old
senora
opened her lively dark eyes.

“You think I am old-fashioned?” she demanded. “You think it is out of date that one should wish a fine old estate to be carried on long after one is dead, by one’s own family?” She gave Sally no time to answer. “The good, solid things are never old-fashioned, but unfortunately one’s years are limited. I do not doubt that Marcus will always give himself to Las Vinas, but I am foolish enough to want to see some way into the future. Tell me,
senorita,
why do you hold back from the official betrothal?”

Sally felt as if she had received a blow in the solar plexus. She swallowed and heard an odd singing noise in her ears. Crazily, she had thought she might get a little of her own way with this small, ancient volcano, but what a hope! All the
senora’s
strength had become concentrated in those sharp wits which circled warily round the one thing that mattered in her universe.

Sally drew an audible breath. “I’ve been here such a short time,
senora.
Perhaps you are expecting too much.”

“You have known Marcus for much longer. He has proposed to you and told you he loves you. You have consented to marry him and, knowing Marcus, I cannot believe he has not urged that you quickly make the engagement official and arrange the wedding. Therefore it is logical to conclude that it is you who are reluctant, no?”

Sally’s fingers were gouging holes in her palms. Dare she reply to this truthfully, dare she try to...? She suddenly saw the
senora’s
face very clearly. There was a dew of perspiration on the lined white forehead and a terrible anxiety in the black eyes; the thin knobbly hands had parted from each other and were clutching the crisp embroidered foldover of the sheet.

Swiftly Sally leaned forward and stroked the hand nearest her. In unsteady, smiling tones she said, “You must give me time, Dona Inez. I have no Spanish blood, only an ordinary English temperament. I love San Palos, and Las Vinas is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, but everything is very new to me and I have to feel my way. Couldn’t you give me a few weeks to get thoroughly acclimatized? By then I’ll know more about myself ... and Marcus.”

“You must know already how you feel for him.”

“Yes, said Sally with fatalistic calm. “I do know.”

“Then there is no need for so much delay. But you are sweet and perhaps shy. We will say no more for the present.”

“You should rest for ten minutes or you won’t enjoy your lunch.”

“Yes, you are right. You were a good nurse, no?”

“I wanted to be a good one.”

“You are not like your mother. She is nervous with me, like a pretty animal under the eye of an eagle. She has looks, but no mental stamina.”

A shrewd valuation which Sally did not contradict; the old
senora
might have been amused, but she wouldn’t have been flattered had she known Viola’s opinion of her. Sally stood up, and as she did so Dona Inez lifted one cheek, as she always did to Marcus. Sally bent and touched her lips to it, and she felt the papery fingers touch her cheek.