Sweet Revenge (17 page)

Laura tossed her head. 'A mere formality, I can assure you. We do not rush carelessly into things here as you do in your country, making mistakes and paying for them with a lifetime of misery!' She halted. 'Estelle - the Senhora de Calle, that is - warned me about you! Told me what a snake in the grass you might be!'

Toni got unsteadily to her feet. 'Will you go away?' she said weakly. 'I don't have to listen to this kind of talk from you!'

'Sit down,' and as Toni protested, Laura almost shouted the words: 'Sit down,
senhorita.'

Astonishment vied with disbelief on Toni's face as she sank back into her seat. Then Laura put her hands on her hips, studying her insolently.

'Now,
senhorita,
I will tell you something that you might find interesting.'

'I don't want to listen!' Toni put her hands over her ears, but she could still hear Laura's raised voice.

'Haven't you ever wondered why Paul is not welcome here,
senhorita
? You must have done! And do not deny that you are curious about Raoul's dreadful scar!'

'It's not dreadful!' The words were wrung from Toni's lips.

'It is - it is nauseating!' exclaimed Laura furiously. 'But it is of no matter. When we are married I shall persuade him to have plastic surgery to remove it.'

Toni turned away. Already Laura was planning to change Raoul, even before they were positively engaged to be married. What would his life be like if she actually married him?

Then she chided herself for caring. When had he ever cared about her!

'So,' continued Laura relentlessly, 'I will tell you. Paul - your so-called friend and erstwhile so-called fiancé - was having an affair with Elise, Raoul's wife!'

'What!' Toni at last looked at her in amazement. 'But - but ten years ago - Elise had a daughter of three!'

'That is so. Ten years ago she was twenty-five - Paul was a mere twenty, but that did not stop them! Elise's marriage to Raoul was never a success - Paul came here, when Raoul's father died, and they were immediately attracted. Elise was bored - Raoul was away a lot. It is a lonely place. Paul was young - and handsome, I suppose - and Elise was not the kind of woman to care who she hurt in the process!'

Toni shook her head disbelievingly. So that was why Raoul hated Paul, and with good reason. But that still did not explain the scar.

'This is not my affair,
senhora,'
she said dully. 'You are disclosing family matters to a comparative stranger!'

'Yes, I am. And with good reason! You must be made to see how stupid you are being!' She stamped her foot in impatience. 'But wait - I have not finished yet. There is more. I must tell you about the day Elise was killed!'

Toni bent her head, despising herself for wanting to know the truth when it could never help her in any way. 'Don't go on,' she pleaded. 'I don't want to know!'

'Of course you do,
senhorita.
You are timid, that is all, afraid perhaps of what you might hear!'

'Maybe I am,' said Toni, looking at her. 'But at least I am honest. I do not pretend to be something I am not!'

Laura gasped. 'You! You dare to say that to me when you are continually living a life of pretence! Does the Condessa yet know you are not Paul's fiancee?'

Toni lifted her shoulders. 'All right, I did pretend to be Paul's fiancee, but quite innocently, I can assure you. At that time I had no idea of his reasons for bringing me here.'

'You expect me to believe that? Did you not yourself expect to get a cut of whatever Paul managed to inveigle out of his grandmother!'

Toni sprang to her feet. 'You - you - bitch!' she exclaimed.

'Do not dare to call me names,
senhorita,'
shouted Laura hysterically, 'or I may call you a few you will not like to hear! Much more descriptive words than that which you use!'

'Well, you are!' exclaimed Toni, her cheeks burning. 'I'm sure Raoul has no idea of the creature you really are!'

'Don't speak Raoul's name so carelessly,
senhorita.
It is not yours to use. He is the Conde della Maria Estrada, and don't you ever forget it.'

'How could I?' exclaimed Toni, tears burning her eyes now.

'Indeed, how could anyone forget a man who is so unique!' Laura calmed down. 'Nevertheless, there is one more thing you should know. The night Elise was killed she was leaving Raoul - to go to Paul in London. Whether Paul actually intended this was what she should do, I do not know, for he never had any money of his own. But he had acted without considering the temperamental nature of a woman like Elise, who after a row with Raoul left here in a blazing temper. It is not difficult to imagine her crashing the car - she was never an expert driver - but when she was killed, it had a destroying effect on Raoul for a while.' Laura made an eloquent gesture with her hands. 'By that, I do not mean he went to pieces entirely. After all, he did not love her—'

'She was the mother of his child,' Toni reminded her quietly, seeing the angry flush rise again in Laura's cheeks.

'A marriage of convenience, nothing more,' retorted Laura. 'However, for a time Raoul seemed restless, he would not settle to anything, and it was then he took up motor racing. You must have noticed his taste in fast cars; he had always driven fast, but expertly. It was not surprising, therefore, that he chose that way in which to assuage his - grief, for want of a better word.'

'I see. And I suppose he must have crashed.'

'Many times,' agreed Laura impatiently. 'Racing drivers are accustomed to crashing. It was only when the final crash occurred, and he almost lost his life, that it seemed to dawn on him that he still had a daughter and a life of his own.'

'I still don't see what this has to do with me,' said Toni, sighing.

'Don't you? Well, I will explain further. You are a little like Elise yourself. She was fair also, and blue- eyed—'

'My eyes are not blue, they are green,' said Toni tautly.

'So? It is of no matter. That you are sufficiently like her is enough. Also, you came here with Paul - you were Paul's friend, and as such a reminder of bitter memories. It occurred to me that Raoul might find it amusing to use you to assuage his bitterness towards Paul and Elise!'

Toni felt her throat was dry, and her tongue seemed glued to the roof of her mouth. With every succeeding sentence Laura seemed to be slowly destroying all the life and hope inside her. She would not have believed anyone could emanate such cruelty, even though Laura might not be aware of the whole extent of the pain she was inflicting.

Was it possible that that was the reason the Conde had kept her here? Could he be using her to rid himself at last of his bitterness towards Elise? And was it possible that he might also be destroying Paul by using the money as his weapon? Even now, Paul could be in prison for an offence he did not commit. She would never know, here, isolated from all British newspapers. After all, the Conde had been away some considerable time. What was he doing? Was he really only working? Or was there some deeper, hidden reason for his sudden departure? And was she waiting here for his return, like some meek creature, without any spine or spunk, when he was really only laughing at her? How stupidly had she imagined there conceivably might be some kinder reason!

Laura at last seemed to have exhausted herself and was walking to the trellised arch that led out of the arbour.

'I can see I have at last pierced your sensibilities,' she said, with some satisfaction. 'I will go before the good Condessa returns and insists that I stay for dinner. I have no desire to sit at the table with you,
senhorita.'

Toni was too numb to answer her, and without another word Laura walked away. After she had gone, Toni lifted her sewing and looked at it unseeingly. She felt sick and shaky, and wished with all her heart she had accompanied the Condessa and Francesca on their journey. Then she would have heard none of this, but would she have been any happier? Sooner or later, Laura would have found a way to let her know the truth about Paul, and Elise, and the Conde, and the longer she waited the harder it would get. Yet she doubted that anything could be harder than Laura's words today. Such small defences that she had had been destroyed with relentless persistence, and now she was left without hope. What malevolence Laura possessed, though, to be able to come and speak so vitriolically without appearing to turn a hair! A woman like that could never love a man like Raoul, could never give him the warmth and passion and response that Toni had known he demanded. For all his faults he was a man of flesh and blood, while Laura was merely obsessed with affluence and the power of being the Condessa della Maria Estrada.

She could see Laura's point, of course, it was simple.

The Conde, because of Paul, had lost his wife and been scarred for life, and not only physically. He must have been so embittered by it all that he chose any way to assuage that bitterness. That she had had very little to do with it was her own misfortune. If she had never agreed to Paul's crazy plan, she would never have met the Conde, never have involved herself in something so complicated. She had no one but herself to blame.

By the time the Condessa and Francesca returned from their drive she had made up her mind what she intended to do. She would leave, tonight, without telling anyone. She could leave a note for Francesca to find and be many miles away before her presence was missed from the Castelo Estrada. It was no use risking telling Francesca; although she had not told the Conde that other time, there was no reason to suppose she would still feel the same.

She made a pretence of eating dinner with the Condessa and Francesca and then excused herself on the grounds of having a headache. She accepted their sympathy, feeling guilty that she should be intending to leave so tardily, but then hardening her heart when she recalled the reasons behind her enforced employment as Francesca's governess. In her room she packed her belongings with a sense of misery she had not realized anyone could suffer. Then she dressed in slacks and a sweater, leaving her jacket lying on top of her cases. She sat down to wait for the rest of the household to retire, a pen and paper on her knees as she tried to think of something to say to Francesca. In the end she merely wrote that she was leaving, not to try and stop her, and that she would write more fully when she reached London. Then she wrote Francesca's name on the envelope and put it beside her cases.

It seemed ages before the
castelo
became silent. She had never before heard all the sounds of the night with such clarity. Several times she stiffened when she thought she heard footsteps coming her way, but after a while all was quiet. The
castelo
had settled down for the night.

She glanced at her watch. It was a little after midnight, seven hours before the kitchen staff came on duty and at least eight hours before Francesca would find the note.

Opening her door, she stood for a moment listening, making certain that there was no sound, then she lifted her cases and her jacket, putting the envelope addressed to Francesca in her pocket. She crept along the corridor, past the Condessa's bedroom, and down the stairs. It was strange and eerie without any lights, and she had to trust to her own surefootedness not to lose her way. In the hall, a low lamp was burning on an occasional table, and she put the letter on the copper dish beside it. Then she opened the door leading into the corridor which in turn led to the outer door of the building.

The courtyard was deserted, only a dog barking in one of the out-houses seemed capable of hearing her. Keeping in the shadows, just in case, she made her way to the garages, housed near the Great Hall. She knew that the chauffeur did not bother to lock either the garages or the cars, and it would not be difficult to take one.

The garage door presented more of a problem. It creaked on its hinges, and she froze into immobility at the unexpected sound. But apart from an increased spasm of barking from the dog, there was no other movement. There was the huge limousine used by the Condessa on her infrequent jaunts into the country, and there was the dusty Landrover used by one of the servants when stores were needed from the shops in Pareira. As borrowing any kind of vehicle without the owner's permission was alien to her nature Toni decided on the Landrover as being the least important of the two. The keys hung loosely in the ignition, and dumping her cases in the back, she climbed in. Starting the motor caused yet another problem. The engine was temperamental and took several attempts at revving to bring it into operation, and Toni was positively shaking with nerves as she drove shakily across the drawbridge and out on to the main courtyard before the
castelo.

Getting her bearings, she turned east towards Pareira. Estrada itself was only a fishing village and of no use to her. Besides, she did not want to draw attention to herself, and in Pareira she could be anonymous.

The moon illuminated the road, but even so she felt a little frightened. She had never driven at night before, indeed she had not driven at all since her parents' car crash. She wondered what she would do if the Landrover broke down, or if someone forced her to stop. Such thoughts were unpleasant and with an effort she tried to concentrate on other things. Things back in London, for example. It would be nice to see her bed-sitter again, which her landlady was keeping for her at a nominal fee. Then she would meet her friends again, girls who lived in the same building. Even the agency might be pleased to see her.

Only her aching heart warned her that it would not be that easy. Not easy at all to forget Estrada, the
castelo,
the Condessa, Francesca, and Raoul.

Thinking of the Conde with a sense of loss, she wondered what his reactions would be when he discovered she had gone. He had underestimated her if he thought she was prepared to wait in submission for him to ravage her. She half-smiled bitterly.
Ravage!
That was a strange word to use, an old-fashioned word, not at all in keeping with the modern ideas that the Conde implemented.

A rabbit ran across the road in front of the Land- rover, and Toni almost jumped out of her skin, swerving dangerously. The action seemed to bring her to complete awareness of her situation. It was no use dreaming while she was driving. She would have plenty of time for recriminations in the months to come.