Dear Conquistador

by Margery Hilton

  ‘No, senor.’ She smiled a little, knowing she had made no mistake over his nationality. ‘But please ... I do have an appointment with Senora Alvedo. I wonder if you ...’ She had taken a step forward as she spoke and suddenly felt absurdly diminutive against his height. Then her expression faltered at the puzzlement in his face.

  He said, ‘But I thought they had all—How long have you been here?’

  ‘Almost three-quarters of an hour,’ she said ruefully.

  ‘And Sanchia is not here ...?’ An imprecation she had no difficulty in translating escaped him, and she hid a smile. It looked as though Sanchia had a masterful one here - if she were his wife. But he was gesturing with a strong, well-shaped hand, and with a murmur of acknowledgement she passed through into the sanctum from which her fellow hopefuls had emerged with such doleful expressions.

  Strangely, it no longer appeared so spacious a room when the tall, grey-clad figure took possession. He indicated a chair, then crossed to the adjoining room. Moments later he reappeared and now there was annoyance in the handsome, aristocratic features.

  He said, ‘I regret that Senora Alvedo is no longer here. Please accept my apologies for your inconvenience.’

  Hilary stood up. In face of this obviously genuine concern she could not display her own annoyance at a wasted afternoon. But she could not hide a note of disappointment as she said quickly: ‘Please don’t worry - it’s not your fault. Thank you for - for checking for me. I might have waited in vain if you hadn’t turned up. ’ She held out her hand, then let it fall as he apparently failed

  to notice the gesture.

  He said, ‘One moment. I’m correct in assuming that you are here in connection with appointment of a companera-maestra to Juanita and her brother? It is all down here ...’ He was consulting papers on a flower-laden table.

  She nodded, watching him thrust the great bowl of blooms impatiently aside. He glanced up. ‘There have been four young ladies here this afternoon, all of whom have been marked as completely unsuitable. Let me see ... Miss Jones, Miss Chater ...’ He scanned the notes, his firm mouth compressing as he flipped over the page. ‘Mrs. Bulmer ... and Miss Marchant.’ He glanced sharply at Hilary. ‘That is not your name, senorita?’

  ‘No - it’s Martin. Hilary Martin. ’

  He studied the list again and shook his head. ‘Your name does not appear to be here, Miss Martin.’

  ‘But it must be!’ She felt dismay. ‘I definitely have an—’ She stopped, exclaiming with relief as she remembered the card. Hastily she looked in her bag. ‘I have a card from the bureau -here it is.’

  He took it, frowning, and glanced down again at the appointment book. Then his frown cleared. ‘I think there has been what you would call a mix-up. Martin and this other name -Marchant - could sound alike over the telephone, and I’m afraid Sanchia tends to be rather excitable when using that instrument. ’

  He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then said abruptly: ‘So it seems, Miss Martin, there is nothing else to do but interview you myself, and ask you all these extremely personal questions.’

  ‘Oh, but ...’ she bit her lip, ‘will it be all right? I mean—’

  Suddenly he seemed taller, and the light in his dark piercing eyes more quelling. ‘Of course it will be all right. I can assure you that if I do not have the authority, then ...’ He paused at her expression of bewilderment and his tone softened slightly. ‘Do not fear, senorita, I am well acquainted with the family of Romualdo Pacquera - better so than Senora Alvedo.’ He shrugged. ‘It was simply that it was considered more suitable to enlist a woman’s judgment.’

  He gestured, and Hilary sunk back into her chair. It seemed she was to have her interview after all. Though what would come of it she couldn’t begin to comprehend. Oh, well, in for a penny ...

  He seated himself at the other side of the table and again that

  enormous bowl of flowers became an obstruction. He shifted his position, and Hilary sprang up impulsively and moved the bowl to a nearby side table. He stayed silent until she sat down again, then said rather sardonically: ‘Thank you - you seem a very helpful person, Miss Martin.’

  Instantly a blush of confusion turned her cheeks deep rose. She felt foolish, and that sense of feeling small rushed over her again. Worse still, for some reason his dark gaze was making her aware of her girlhood in a way no man’s regard had ever done before. She tensed, trying to shield her embarrassment, and then he smiled, in a way that instantly banished the awkwardness and brought a shy responding curve to her mouth. He said in Spanish: ‘Have you ever worked with children, Senorita Martin?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted, taking her language cue from him, ‘and that is one thing I must make clear. I am not qualified to teach children, if that is what you require. Although I had a good education, I should not like to mislead you in that respect.’

  He shook his head. ‘No, Miss Martin. Joaquin already has a tutor who is excellent, except that his English and French are a trifle stilted, and Juanita’s education is being taken care of. The main requirements are improvement of her English and a companionship not at present available.’

  ‘Has she no friends of her own age?’ Hilary asked, puzzled as she considered this statement from a wholly British angle. It seemed rather strange to import an English girl from so far away. Surely Lima was not entirely barren of girls suitable for this purpose?

  As though he read her thoughts he made a negative gesture. ‘It is not as simple as that. Juanita has not yet had time to form suitable new friendships. Six weeks ago she and Joaquin suffered a sad loss. Their parents were lost in that air disaster in Chile -perhaps you remember reading of it? There were no survivors.’

  ‘Oh, how dreadful! I’m so sorry,’ she exclaimed, instantly distressed.

  He inclined his head. ‘Naturally their grandmother insisted that they be brought to Lima, where they will stay until Juanita marries and Joaquin completes his education.’ He paused, a certain intentness coming into his expression. Abruptly he reverted to English. ‘I wonder how much understanding you have of the convention and tradition which govern the upbringing of a girl such as Juanita. ’

  ‘I have heard a little of what we think of as the Spanish grande way of life,’ she said slowly. ‘I know that Juanita will have little freedom of the kind we know. Her life and her friendships will be arranged for her and she will accept that it should be so without question. I also know that her marriage will be arranged for her, regardless of whether love enters into it, and that she will be obedient to this as to all other things,’ Hilary finished quietly, not letting her gaze falter from the strong stern features of the man who had taken charge of the interview.

  ‘You understand quite a lot,’ he said coolly. ‘Do you disapprove of the Spanish grande way of life?’

  ‘Since you ask, senor, I do. This is the twentieth century, not the Middle Ages. You may be shocked that I express such an opinion, but that is a privilege of my freedom, senor,’ she said firmly.

  She had spoken defiantly, despite his air of autocracy, and she did not regret voicing her conviction, even though it might cost her job. Then she saw a flicker at the corners of his strong mouth as he leaned back.

  ‘You speak frankly, Miss Martin. Good, I prefer honesty to sanctimonious lip service, even though we can never agree. Yes, I think that you, even with the somewhat questionable aura of this famous permissive swinging London round you, may prove the diversion of which Juanita is in need. ’

  ‘So you admit she needs a diversion,’ said Hilary, beginning to feel more and more sorry for the unknown Juanita who was already taking on a sad, shadowy picture in her imagination.

  The sardonic flicker appeared again. ‘I am not denying it. We are not, in spite of our apparently tyrannical outlook, entirely devoid of understanding. ’

  ‘Aren’t you afraid I might have a - a questionable influence on her?’ Hilary betrayed a trace of annoyance. ‘I may whet her appetite for a taste of the freedom I e
njoy.’

  ‘Not in the least,’ he said calmly. ‘The odds are stacked too highly against you, and there is even the possibility that you might find Juanita influencing you yourself to question some of the conceptions you hold so dear. ’

  ‘Never! ’

  ‘No?’ he gestured mockingly. ‘Where is that open-mindedness for which the British are reputed? Live and let live, I believe is the way you express it.’

  She said nothing, and he went on: ‘We will see. However, we digress. Now I must ask you some of these tedious questions. Why do you wish to seek employment abroad?’

  ‘I like travel and strange places.’

  ‘So. But liking travel and strange places is not quite the same as making a new life there for an extended period. Is your home background a happy one?’

  ‘It is. I’m not trying to escape an unhappy home life, if that’s what you mean. ’

  ‘You are not trying to escape anything else?’ The dark gaze was penetrating.

  ‘No!’ she flashed. ‘And my personal life is no concern of yours.’

  He held up his hand. ‘Do not protest. You have told me what I want to know.’

  ‘Have I?’ Her lips compressed. ‘Then perhaps you need ask no more questions about my personal life.’

  ‘You have an extremely good character reference from your former employers. Why did you resign so suddenly for the flimsiest of reasons?’ he asked sharply.

  She was startled by the abrupt change of angle. ‘I wanted a change, that’s all.’

  For a moment his dark head bent over the card bearing the agency’s details. Then he looked up. ‘Very well, I will not press what is obviously a painful matter. Oh, yes, Miss Martin, when a certain fire enters a woman’s attitude we may be sure of one thing; that somewhere a man has been responsible. Am I not right?’

  Hilary had had enough. She stood up. ‘I don’t think we have anything more to discuss, senor. I wish you luck with your quest and would advise you to employ a little more tact in future if you must find an English girl to suit your requirements. Good afternoon, senor. I can find my own way out. ’

  He allowed her almost to reach the door, then he said quietly: ‘One moment, Miss Martin. Please hear me out, after which I trust your national repute for fair play will make you desist from hurling accusations of tactlessness at my head. And perhaps I may admit that my approach erred somewhat on the side of tactlessness.’

  For a moment she stayed where she was, then slowly she came back. He was standing, his proud carriage very straight, and he did not move until at last she sat down unwillingly on the edge of the chair. Only then did he resume his own seat, and relax slightly, taking a slim, finely engraved cigarette case from his pocket and flipping it open towards her.

  ‘Not at the moment, thank you. ’

  Without speaking he closed the case and returned it to his pocket. He leaned back. ‘Try to be impartial, Miss Martin, and visualize the practical viewpoint; ours. If you were seeking a charming Peruvian girl to assist in the education of your young brother and sister, and you found one who promised to embody all the qualities you sought, and she came to settle in your home, gained the confidence of your family, and then suddenly changed her mind and told you she was returning to South America,’ he paused, ‘you would be indignant, would you not?’

  ‘Naturally,’ Hilary said, ‘but a charming, intelligent girl would not undertake a contract unless she was prepared to fulfil it. ’

  ‘Not intentionally’ he said calmly, ‘but if she’d decided on a change of scene because of a broken romantic entanglement her subsequent actions could be unpredictable. Quarrels can be mended, and the call of the heart extremely strong - the feminine heart in particular.’ He paused. ‘I am not attempting to pry into your personal life, senorita, merely to establish that there won’t be a man beckoning you back across the seas five minutes after we thought our arrangements had been settled to everyone’s satisfaction.’ ‘Believe me,’ he went on, ‘that is the sole reason for these very personal questions. Is it not understandable, senorita?’ He smiled, a smile of such singular charm, totally transforming his sternly cut features, that Hilary felt her earlier resentment melt away. It was perfectly logical, put that way, and perfectly understandable. So much so that ...

  ‘Yes,’ she said flatly, ‘and I can assure you that there will be no recall of my heart across the sea. Or anywhere else.’

  His brows went up. ‘It is easy to say. You are sure?’

  ‘Sure.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘Will it satisfy you if I tell you the man in question wasn’t free? And if he was it wouldn’t make any difference.’

  There was a long silence, then he said briskly: ‘Good. Now, there are several matters to be cleared. Visa, vaccination, formalities. And there will be the matter of wardrobe. I think it would be best if—’

  ‘Please!’ Hilary half rose and stared. ‘Senor, does this mean you are offering me the job?’

  ‘Of course!’ He stared. ‘What else? I presume you are still wishing to accept it.

  ‘Oh, yes. But ... what about Senora Alvedo? I understood she was to—’

  He waved his hand impatiently. ‘It is of no consequence. I will tell her when she returns that it is all settled. Tell me, how soon can you be free?’

  ‘I - I—’ Hilary struggled against dazedness. ‘When will I be required?’

  ‘As soon as possible. Next week, if the arrangements can be completed.’ He looked amused at her startled expression. ‘It is quite simple. We will make all the necessary arrangements for your flight. You will require suitable clothing additions. Remember that our climate will seem like perpetual summer to you after this ... ’ A moment of silence and a frustrated gesture expressed his inability to convey his opinion of Britain’s notorious atmosphere, ‘and there will be certain formalities with which our Embassy will assist. I will forward you an advance on your first quarter’s salary along with your flight ticket and if anything occurs to puzzle you we will deal with it. ’

  Hilary nodded, more to convince herself that she was taking it all in than to add her contribution to the interchange.

  ‘Regarding your visa; there will be no difficulty in arranging this speedily. Should there be any questions you are unable to answer, keep this by you. I trust it will help.’

  He took a card from his pocket-book, wrote on the back, and handed it to her.

  She looked down at the black copperplate engraving of the name inscribed there and then turned it over, her lips parting as she read the message he had written. ‘Please give every assistance to bearer, Miss Hilary Martin,’ and beneath it the flowing black signature: Romualdo de Pacquera y Zaredopenas.

  Dawning comprehension struggled with disbelief as Hilary looked up at the dark eyes in which devilry and amusement glinted. She said slowly: ‘You ... you are the Conde himself?’

  He bowed. ‘Forgive me for omitting to introduce myself until this late stage. Are you now convinced that all is in proper order?’ She shook her head, then her lips parted to contradict the unconscious negative. She said weakly: ‘It seems to be so. I - I wish I had known. ’

  ‘You would have been less outspoken, perhaps?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Or less unguarded! the small voice of instinct whispered. She sighed, suddenly not trusting herself to remain poised if she tried to hold that perceptive gaze.

  ‘But that was not how I wished it, senorita.’

  Her lashes drooped like soft silken shields as she opened her bag and tucked the card carefully into the inner compartment. She took a deep breath and stood up, trying to form the suitable phrases for leave-taking. ‘Is there anything—?’ The tentative beginning died away as she looked up and met the regard that had eroded her poise far more thoroughly than she had suspected.

  He had also risen to his feet, to stand motionless with his fingertips resting along the edges of the folder. His cool regard did not flicker as he said slowly: ‘You will forgive me if I make a somewhat personal observati
on, senorita?’ Almost imperceptibly she inclined her head, unable to break free of that invisible bond forged by the sheer magnetism of his personality.

  ‘You are blunt beyond the bounds of discretion, senorita, and I suspect you are quick to temper, slow to submit, and outrageously stubborn.’ His brows rose, as though defying contradiction, then relaxed as the barest suggestion of a smile touched his mouth. ‘But you have a quality of honesty that is rare in a woman. It is for that quality mainly that I make my decision. I trust it will prove a happy one.’

  The little silence lengthened and once again Hilary felt that strange constriction robbing her of the ability to make the smooth, guarded responses she wanted to make.

  ‘And now,’ the Conde said gravely, ‘you will take tea with me.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE quiet reassuring voice of the captain completed his landing announcement and Hilary groped for the clips of her seat belt. The hour of four-thirty was not the most auspicious of the twenty-four, she decided; it was the hour when even the most hilarious of parties tended to falter, the worst time to wake trembling and afraid from the grip of nightmare, the time when the world seemed at its most unfriendly and uncaring, and the spirit at its lowest ebb. Certainly, it was the worst time to be landing at a strange airport, in an unknown land, after a long airborne night extended unnaturally by the crossing of five time zones.

  The confusion of the end-of-flight rush for the washrooms settled suddenly. Somehow, everyone slid back into their places, hastily stubbed out cigarettes, and a tense air of order prevailed as the jet lost height and skimmed down towards the

  runway lights of Lima Airport.

  Hilary took a tighter grasp on her personal luggage and tried to convince herself that the tight coil of tension in the pit of her stomach was due simply to the excitement of the longest flight of her life and not to the fact that she’d had the twenty-two hours of that flight with nothing to do except think of the future at the end of it and the whirl of the week preceding it.

  Was it a mere ten days since that afternoon she had walked into the Luxor - and into a change of scene drastic enough to delight the most travel-thirsty of fresh-field-seekers? Somewhat to her surprise she had not seen the Conde again after that formal yet delightful afternoon tea she had partaken of with him; his instructions had been lucid and comprehensive, and she had not encountered a single snag in her preparations for the journey. He had telephoned her at her home, only once, and she had been out shopping, and her father had taken the message. Rather disappointingly, it had not required either answer or querying, so there had been no valid reason at all to ring him back, and she knew that he was leaving London the following day to visit Madrid en route for South America. The thought had occurred, quite inconsequently, that if he hadn’t had the business detour to make, or if she could have completed all her preparations in a shorter time, she might even have travelled with him. But she had dismissed the idea as fanciful and rather silly; if he considered it necessary to escort her he would suggest it, and if he did it wouldn’t reflect much confidence in her ability to assume responsibility ... all the same, she hoped he wouldn’t forget his assurance that she would be met at the airport, even though this was the most ghastly hour to expect anyone to turn out to meet a stranger.