Who Rides the Tiger (19 page)

It was very hot, and already most of the populace were indulging in the usual afternoon siesta. But Dominique did not feel tired, although she had a severe headache, and would have appreciated some time alone to collect herself. However, Isabella seemed to sense this for she suggested that Dominique might like to rest in one of the bedrooms while she arranged for some lunch to be served in the suite.

Dominique insisted she wanted nothing to eat, but when Isabella tapped on her door later and produced a tray of light snacks and sandwiches, accompanied by fresh fruit and coffee, she managed to swallow some of the food and immediately felt better equipped to face what was to come.

Isabella seemed disposed to talk, and seated herself on the end of the bed and said, rather disconcertingly: 'What has happened between you and Vincente? Why is he so antagonistic towards his bride of only three days?'

Dominique put away her coffee cup and reached for her cigarettes. 'Didn't he tell you?' she asked, putting a cigarette between her lips and lighting it with rather shaky fingers.

'No,' replied Isabella calmly. 'If he had done so I should not be asking you. I am not being unnecessarily curious. It's just that - well, I love my brother, and I do not like to see him so unhappy.'

'Unhappy?' echoed Dominique. 'He's not unhappy. At least, that wasn't the impression I gained. He - he seems to
hate
me!'

'Oh, I think not,' exclaimed Isabella sharply. 'I do know my brother perhaps rather better than you do. I can tell when - well, I believe he is brooding about something. Can't you - couldn't you tell me?'

Dominique sighed. How could she explain to Isabella about their row? How could she tell her that it was to do with her - with her and John Harding?

Finally she said: 'I - he didn't tell me he had been married before.'

'I see.' Isabella nodded. 'Tell me something, Dominique, how long did you know my brother - before you married him?'

Dominique flushed. 'Not very long.'

'It was an instant attraction, then?'

'You could say that,' agreed Dominique cautiously.

'And so I suppose you got to know very little about one another - about one another's affairs - before you actually got married.'

'That's right.'

'What do you actually know about Vincente? Do you know his background?'

Dominique stared at her. 'No. I know nothing - absolutely nothing. Oh, it's difficult to explain -1 expect it sounds completely crazy to you, but - well, words were not important between us. Not then. And after—' She sighed. 'We didn't have time. I only know what Salvador has told me. Will you tell me about Vincente? Will you tell me how he became what he is? When I arrived here, he seemed violently aroused when I discussed the poverty of some of the people, and later he made some remark about not having always known this kind of life. I didn't understand him, and he wouldn't explain. Will you?'

Isabella rose to her feet and paced to the window, staring pensively out at the view. Then she looked back at Dominique and smiled.

'I'll tell you a little,' she offered quietly. 'I will tell you what I think you should know.'

'Yes?' Dominique was expectant.

'Yes.' Isabella sighed. 'To begin with, Vincente and I are not - how shall I put it? - er - solitary children. Hmm, we have brothers and sisters, but we do not know them.'

Dominique stared at her in surprise. 'What do you mean?'

Isabella shrugged. 'Our parents were very poor. There were, I believe, nine of us. But our parents could not afford to keep us, and we ran the streets, like those children you saw in the
favellas,
yes?'

'Yes.'

'You do not know what it is like to be poor, I can see that. Believe me, I do not mean to sound patronizing, but unless one has experienced that kind of existence, one cannot understand the complete and utter degradation of not having shoes or clothes, or even combs for our hair. We were thin and ragged, but we were together, Vincente and I. He was much older than me, of course, and much wiser, I am sure.' She smiled. 'One day a man came to the
favellas.
He was a business man. My father had been working for one of his companies, and he had stolen some money. The man threatened to call the police. My father begged and pleaded, he told him he had a large family to support, and that we would starve if he was taken away.'

She sounded slightly bitter, and Dominique realized that their father had not been entirely truthful in his estimation of his value to the rest of the family.

'At any rate,' she went on, 'the man must have had a heart, because he looked at us and he smiled. It was a beautiful smile, and Vincente smiled at him. I was too frightened to do anything but hide behind Vincente. The man came to Vincente, and he asked my father what was his name. My father said that he was his eldest son. It was not true, but my father thought the man might feel more strongly towards the eldest son, might think my father had more to lose. We did not know what was in his mind. It was not until later that we found that this man, this Senhor Santos, had a wife who could not have children of her own. Senhor Santos wanted to adopt Vincente. There was money to change hands, and my father was a greedy man. Unfortunately, Vincente refused to go unless I was to go also. I say, unfortunately, because I seem to have caused my brother nothing but trouble.' She sighed again.

Dominique was beginning to understand. 'How - how oldwas Vincente then?' she asked.

'He was eleven, and I was three. That was twenty years ago now.'

Dominique shook her head. 'Did you ever see your real parents again?'

Isabella shook her head. 'They moved - we did not know where, and I suppose now they are dead.' She said this dispassionately, and Dominique stared at her.

'Did you have, no feeling for them - not even your mother?' she exclaimed.

Isabella shrugged. 'My mother was completely ruled by my father. And I think she had so many children she was glad to see two go.'

'But that's terrible!'

'That is life, Dominique.'

'Is - is that why Vincente is so bitter?'

'Partly, I suppose. At least it may account in some part for his perhaps unreasonable standards.'

'I see,' Dominique nodded. 'And his wife?'

'Valentina?'

'Yes. Did he love her?'

Isabella shook her head. 'That also was a farce. Valentina Cordova was the owner of a huge chain of companies. They had belonged to her father, and when he died she took over the reins. She was a completely ruthless business woman, and everyone said she had no heart. She wanted the Santos Corporation, and she would have got it, too, had not my adopted father begged Vincente to intervene. Vincente was only twenty-two at that time, and Valentina was easily thirty-three or four. But, as you may have realized, he can be completely irresistible if he so chooses, and he disarmed the harsh business woman almost overnight. That he had to marry*her to complete the deal was an indication of Valen- tina's own strength of will.'

'You mean - you mean - that was why he married her?'

'Yes.' Isabella sighed. 'My father was delighted. It was what he had wanted. Vincente knew that. And after all, it was the least he could do for the man who had made him his heir.'

Dominique shook her head. 'It seems incredible! Was - was the marriage a success?'

'If you mean was Valentina happy, then yes, I suppose she was. Whether Vincente was happy or not is debatable. I fear it was another example to him of how people use other people.'

'But he was using Valentina!'

'On our father's behalf only. Our father was a sick man. He urged Vincente to do it, and Vincente obliged. He was indifferent, you see. And how could Vincente let our father down?'

Dominique stubbed out her cigarette, her mouth dry. If Vincente had married once for money, could he have married a second time for revenge? It seemed possible - even probable, and the idea appalled her.

'She died,' she said now, sliding off the bed. 'How?'

'Valentina went to visit with her uncle and aunt in New Orleans. The plane crashed on take-off on her return journey.'

'Oh.' Dominique swallowed hard. 'How convenient for him!'

'You do not mean that,' said Isabella shrewdly. 'And I get the feeling that there is more to this rift between you and Vincente than his previous marriage. Try to understand, Dominique, Vincente's life has not been easy - or uncomplicated, as yours has probably been until now. First there was our life in the
favellas,
when we lived by our wits. And then our life with the Santos's who were really so much more real parents to us, but for Vincente even this affair had its complications, in the form of Valentina. And finally myself. I - well, I got involved with a man, and - well, that is of no interest to you, I am sure. At any rate, Vincente was very shocked when I decided to enter the convent. He tried to dissuade me, but I was adamant.'

Dominique bit her lip. If only she could ask Isabella about that affair, that involvement. If only Isabella would ask what brought her to Brazil in the first place. But obviously Isabella did not realize that Dominique was anything more than an attractive female Vincente had chosen to make his wife.

Conversation dwindled after a while. Both girls seemed absorbed with their own thoughts, and Dominique decided her best plan would b£ to return to Bela Vista tomorrow, after attempting a second time to speak to Vincente. She voiced this suggestion to Isabella, and she said:

'I think it might be a good idea. It also occurs to me that Vincente might be transferred to the Bela Vista hospital after the skin grafts have taken place.'

Dominique frowned. 'You think so?'

'Why not? And later, when he is recovered, he could stay at Minha Terra, providing there was a nurse ...'

Dominique frowned again. She did not relish the thought of bringing another woman into her husband's life. But there was no reason to refuse, no
logical
reason.

'Yes,', she agreed doubtfully. 'What - what will you do?'

'Me?' Isabella shrugged. 'I do not know. The convent is some distance from Rio de Janeiro. It would be impossible for me to see him if I were to return there, particularly once he is transferred to Bela Vista.'

'Then-then couldn't you come and stay at Minha Terra?' suggested Dominique, with some impulsiveness.

With Isabella at Minha Terra she might feel a sense of security, and just now that was what she badly needed.

In the evening, when Isabella went to see Vincente, Dominique asked Salvador to take her for a drive. They drove out of the city, to one of the many beauty spots overlooking the bay. The lights winked from the vessels out there, in the ocean, and Dominique obtained a measure of peace from the sense of infinity that the scene presented. She turned to Salvador and said:

'Did you go and see Vincente this afternoon?'

Salvador half smiled. 'Is that a guess - or an assumption?'

'A guess.'

Salvador chuckled. 'You are right,
senhora.
I went to see the Senhor.'

'And?'

'And what?'

'Oh, Salvador, what happened? Did he mention me? Was he angry with you for bringing me?'

'Angry, yes. With you - I do not think so?' Salvador sighed. 'You do not try to understand the Senhor,
senhora.
If he were this Senhor Harding, how would you treat him? Would you be suspicious of his every move? Would you accuse him of deceiving you, on the strength of gossip heard from a known harridan? Would you deliberately torment him by disobeying his every command?'

Dominique frowned. 'I don't understand, Salvador.'

'Of course you do. Tell me, what would you do?'

'It's different with John,' she eventually said, slowly. 'He - he's not like Vincente. He's more - more reliable.'

'You think so? Even though you know he deliberately set out to attract the Senhorita Isabella, and succeeded in breaking her heart?'Dominique stared at him. 'You can't be certain of that!'

'Oh, yes,
senhora.
I was there. I saw it happen. Isabella was a sweet, innocent creature. Your Senhor Harding cared nothing for her. He wanted a flirtation - an affair. Her dark beauty after the fairness of English women attracted him. Oh, yes,
senhora,
I can tell you this now. He was ripe for entertainment, and he chose Isabella as his partner.'

'I don't believe you!' Dominique was aghast. 'We were engaged to be married.'

'Yes. But had you not refused to come with him? Had you not insisted on a longer engagement?'

'How do you know that?'

'Your Senhor Harding is not a silent man,
senhora.
He was morose and dejected, until he met Isabella Santos, at the Santos club. She was there with her brother for some special function. Senhor Harding did not take his eyes from her all evening. He was enchanted by her. You will agree, now that you have met her, that she is a very attractive young woman.'

'Of course.' Dominique brushed back a wisp of hair impatiently. 'Go on.'

'There is little more to tell. Surely you can guess what happened. Isabella fell for your handsome Senhor Harding, and he pretended to fall for her. There was talk of him breaking his engagement, becoming wholly involved with her. But somehow, when it came to the point, he would not do it. The affair - his side of the affair - dissolved into nothing more than that!' Salvador sounded incensed, and Dominique could understand why. These women were not emancipated like Englishwomen. They were not encouraged to deal loosely with any man, except the man who was to be their husband. She could understand Vincente's anger and contempt, and she wondered how John could have done such a thing and continued to write such graphical letters to her.

Sighing, she said: 'But that doesn't alter anything, Salvador. Vincente still hates me!'

Salvador started the car's powerful engine. 'He would like to do so,
senhora,
' he replied enigmatically.

T
HE
following morning Dominique was awakened early by the unusual sound of traffic in the adjoining main street. Sliding out of bed, she walked to the windows and stared out pensively at the misty haze rising over the city, and the distant shimmer of the ocean. It was going to be another perfect day, and she went into the bathroom and hastily sluiced her face and cleaned her teeth before dressing in the navy suit. Their unexpected stay in Rio had found her unprepared, and it was all she had to wear.