‘Hush - you will. Never is a terribly long time. Hilary tried to soothe her, even as her own heart grew heavy. Disillusion welled in her as she recalled the Conde’s icy statement on the eve of his niece’s departure to Valparaiso. So this was what he had meant when he had said: ‘It will most certainly be taken care of now... ’
It took all Hilary’s powers of persuasion to make Juanita get up and face the evening. Even so, she refused to don her costume -that of an Inca princess - and put on a semi-formal dress of deep purple silk with a plain round neckline.
‘I do not feel festive,’ she said flatly, and indeed she did not look it. More than one comment was passed on her wan little face when eventually Hilary succeeded in getting her downstairs to the big sala where the buffet tables were loaded with every kind of canape, savoury, and sweetmeat.
The wide windows at the end of the room were opened wide to the night and the glow of the lanterns strung above the patio. Fortunately, in a crowd of some forty or fifty guests, some of whom had not seen each other for some time, it was fairly easy for Hilary to lose Juanita and herself when incautious looks at Juanita’s tell-tale eyes threatened to bring a further outburst of woe. Ramon was circulating unobtrusively, in that awkward position of being neither guest nor servant exactly, watchful that the guests were being looked after and all arrangements were proceeding smoothly.
He looked weary and unhappy, and Hilary’s heart ached for the young lovers, but there was nothing she could do except offer sympathy and understanding, and make a shield of herself between poor Juanita and interfering, if well-meaning, curiosity on the part of others. Unfortunately, this could not last indefinitely. Hilary herself drew quite a measure of attention in her beautiful Spanish gown, exactly as Juanita had forecast. Her cool English fairness under the white and silver mantilla brought many admiring male glances, and when the music for dancing began she knew she
would have to desert her protegee. She begged Bruce’s indulgence when he approached, knowing intuitively that he would understand, but she could not beg the Conde’s. Nor in her heart, despite everything, did she want to.
In full traditional dress he was devastating, and this was the first time he had taken her in his arms to dance. She might have known that he would dance superbly, guiding her steps till they flowed and merged with his and it was as though they danced as one. Over his shoulder, she glimpsed Juanita, sitting stiffly where she had left her and talking to an elderly woman, then she forgot Juanita when the Conde said softly: ‘You look charming tonight, my little senorita inglesa.’
‘Thank you,’ she acknowledged softly, ‘but I should really thank your niece, for she is responsible.’
‘Ah yes’ - she felt the subtle change in him - ‘why is she not in costume?’
‘There - there was some difficulty - it was not comfortable - to dance in,’ she said hastily, and hoped that he would leave it at that.
But he didn’t. He made an intricate turn and said evenly: ‘I think not. I suspect my niece is in a pique because I have chosen to put an end to this ridiculous situation concerning her and my secretary.’
Hilary stiffened. ‘I wouldn’t call it pique, senor, or describe it as ridiculous. She’s heartbroken.’
‘I doubt it,’ he returned calmly. ‘She is young. She will soon recover from this - what do you call it? - flash-in-the- pan infatuation, once the object of desire is no longer within her reach.’ ‘You believe it’s as simple as that. A flash-in-the-pan! ’ Hilary exclaimed, looking up sharply. ‘When she’s!—’ Just in time she bit back the word ‘love’, realizing that she had almost told him that the affair - if affair it could be called - had lasted a full two years.
He was looking down at her, his eyes slightly narrowed. ‘Yes, senorita?’
‘You don’t understand, do you?’ she said despairingly. ‘Even if it is merely infatuation it still has the power to bring heartbreak. ’
His brows arched. ‘I am not denying it. But it is one of the penalties of adolescence very few escape. I believe that one has to experience heartbreak before one can appreciate the joy of full and true love.’ He slowed his steps until they were barely moving and his arm held her curved very closely against him. Her heart was pounding unnaturally fast and she felt sure he must sense it over the low, languorous throb of the music. Her lips parted, seeking to break the painful
enchantment, and his own mouth curved with irony. He said softly: ‘Somehow, I think you have yet to experience this tempering of the emotions. Like Juanita, you would seize at the shadow because you are too impatient to wait for the substance.’
‘I don’t understand what you mean,’ she stammered.
‘I am well aware of that fact, senorita.’ A muscle flickered at the corner of his mouth. ‘In matters of the heart you are as innocent as my niece.’
‘You think we are children! ’
‘Not quite. But I would wish my niece to retain her innocence a little while longer. For you yourself, senorita ... do not seize too hastily at the shadow... ’
He gave a small inclination of his head and stepped back.
She realized that the music had stopped and the mingled sounds of voices flowed into the silence it left. Suddenly his words were echoing in her brain and bringing a dreadful fear. What did he mean by seizing at the shadow? Did he mean ...? Had he guessed that she was attracted to him?
Had she betrayed herself? She swayed, hardly knowing that she moved automatically towards the place where she had left Juanita. He did know! What else could he mean other than—?
‘Come on. My turn now.’
She looked dazedly at Bruce, hardly hearing him, and went into his arms as though in a trance. She did not know whether she danced waltz, quickstep or pasa doble, or what Bruce said as they circled the floor. Suddenly she felt Bruce’s clasp tighten round her fingers. ‘You’re very quiet,’ he said.
‘Yes - I’m sorry.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I - I don’t want to talk - please don’t ask questions, Bruce.’
The pleading expression in her wide eyes was more telling than she knew, and he said lightly: ‘It is getting a bit warm. Let’s go and cool off and I’ll get you a drink.’
He guided her to a secluded spot outside the pool of amber radiance cast by the lamps and brought her a glass of lime and lemon laced with the stinging velvet of Bacardi. He leaned on the glimmering white bar of ranch fencing and stared up at the stars. ‘Ever tried to count them?’
‘No.’
‘It’s guaranteed to take your mind off anything.’
‘Is it?’
‘You’ve got involved, haven’t you?’ he said without changing his casual tone.
Her long sigh conveyed a great deal, and he looked down into his glass, tipping it gently and studying the broken sparkles of reflected gold. ‘You know, Hilary,’ he said softly, ‘you learn patience as you get older. Don’t rush at a problem. Sit back and wait. Very often time provides the answer.’
‘I didn’t know you were a philosopher, wise man,’ she said with unsteady flippancy.
‘I’m not.’ He tipped up his glass and drained it. ‘You’re listening to the voice of experience.’
‘I’m not sure if your kind of wisdom would work for me,’ she said sadly.
‘Only if you want it to work.’ He turned to face her, and she saw the faint lines of cynicism round his mouth. ‘Listen, honey, there’s an antidote to most things, even the impossible combination of stiff-necked convention and explosive temperament of the Latins,’ he said with sudden violence. ‘Very often an antidote’s the opposite, the neutralizing agent. In your case it’s the good old British tradition of minding your own business. Take my advice and remember it. ’
With a start she realized he meant Juanita and that she had completely forgotten about her during the past space of time. She said, ‘We’d better go back — so you’ve heard? About Ramon?’
‘Yes.’ Bruce took her arm as they began to retrace their steps. ‘Quite frankly, I’ve ex
pected something like this for some time. Ever since that weekend at the Navarres’ place.’
‘You’re not surprised?’ Hilary stared up at him.
‘No.’ Bruce’s mouth tightened. ‘I’m only surprised that the Conde didn’t remove the source of temptation sooner than he has. You’ve got to face it, honey. To the Conde Ramon is nothing, as we’re nothing when compared to their ancient, blue-blooded lineage.’
Hilary felt shock. She had never heard the easy-going amiable Bruce sound so bitter. She wondered what to say, and at that moment Sanchia and one of the other guests appeared.
Sanchia glanced rather curiously at Hilary and Bruce. Her eyes narrowed. ‘There is something the matter?’
‘No - I - I’m looking for Juanita.’ Hilary said the first thing that came into her head and saw Sanchia’s frown relax.
‘Ah, yes. The little one is not herself. She has gone to her room. She asked me to tell you that she had a headache.’
‘Oh dear.’ Hilary bit her lip. ‘I’d better go and see if she’s all right. ’
Concerned, and not sorry for the excuse to escape and sort out her own troubled thoughts, she went indoors and stopped at her own room to collect aspirins in case they should be needed. When she tapped gently on the door of Juanita’s room she was prepared for a response of tears, anger, or genuine indisposition, anything but a blank silence. Hilary stood there indecisively. If Juanita was asleep she didn’t want to disturb her; on the other hand ... A sense of something wrong was nagging at Hilary, a sense she could not define, and at last she obeyed it and quietly opened the door a little way.
The shades were drawn and the room was in darkness. Hilary hesitated, waiting for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom, then she distinguished the dark little shape on the bed, and a sigh of relief ran through her. Juanita was asleep. She had probably taken aspirins before she lay down ... Very quietly, so as not to disturb her, Hilary tiptoed out again and drew the door soundlessly shut.
The first person she encountered as she returned to the festivities was the Conde. She would have passed, but he barred her path and his expression was aloof.
‘My niece appears to be missing,’ he said coldly. ‘Have you seen her within the past hour?’
‘She has a headache. She’s resting,’ Hilary returned in equally cool tones.
‘You have seen her?’ Somehow he did not appear satisfied.
Hilary’s head came up. ‘Senor, I have just left her room. She’s sound asleep, and I should not disturb her.’
‘If that is the case, I should not dream of disturbing her.’ His expression relaxed. ‘But it is time for the firework display and I would not wish her to be left behind. Come, senorita, some of the guests are riding and some are walking. Which do you prefer?’
‘Is it very far?’
‘A little way beyond our domestic boundary, that is the private grounds of the house.’ He glanced at the fairy lace and delicate embroidery of her dress and then shook his head. ‘No, I do not think that beauty is suitable for traversing our dusty track, even though the night is warm and dry.’ Obviously she was intended to accompany him. He opened a side door, motioned her through, and indicated the big sleek car gleaming under the carport awning. Feeling as though she was losing control of her free will, she found herself in the car and a moment later the Conde was enclosed with her in the dark intimacy of the interior. He drove round the rear of the house, through gardens and shrubberies she had not known existed, and then rejoined the main drive. She recognized the dim outline of the little school, and then the car skimmed down towards the big open area where the masked dancers had performed. But this time the Conde did not drive right down to it as in the afternoon. He stopped the car on a high, natural rise about half-way down the hill and got out.
‘Do not go down into the crowd - your dress may get torn - and stay near the car,’ he instructed. ‘If you feel a chill sit inside. You will still be able to see.’
He moved away, and obediently she stayed where she was, looking down on the colourful scene. If it had been exciting and colourful that afternoon it was doubly so now by night.
A large area had been roped off, and round it were gathered the children, the estate workers and a motley crowd from the village and nearby Huaroya. A ring of bonfires smoked and sparked against the opposite hillside, torches flared, impromptu dancing swayed the crowd, firecrackers glimmered and snapped, dogs yelped and got underfoot, and young men chased the girls, trying to tempt them away to the cover of the hillside.
Other cars were converging on this natural vantage point, and the laughing groups of more energetic guests who had made their way down on foot. Sanchia arrived with Bruce and Don Miguel and Joaquin. The Condesa’s big Mercedes swept down, its headlights illuminating the night, and her chauffeur got out folding chairs so that she and Dona Elena could sit comfortably. Then the first glittering rockets shot skyward, and a great roar came from the crowd.
It was the most spectacular firework display Hilary had ever seen. Golden rain cascaded from the sky, fiery rockets sped to the heavens, Catherine wheels whirled, set-pieces winked out their intricate patterns, starry showers of pink and blue and gold challenged the distant enigmatic stars, and the whole scene was electrified by a constantly fizzing and sparkling panorama of brilliance. Enrapt, Hilary did not know the moment when she was no longer alone, and she started violently when hands closed lightly around her shoulders.
Their warmth was potent, and her breath clung in her throat as the Conde said softly: ‘You are not cold, senorita?’
‘No, senor.’ How long had he stood there?
‘You are enjoying the display?’
‘It’s magnificent.’ She was acutely conscious of his warm clasp.
She wanted to break free of the dangerous spell, but she was powerless as long as he chose to hold her his captive. The glare of the bonfires and the flickering torches lent a wild quality that fired the imagination. The wild skyline and the long valley would look much the same four centuries ago when the Conquistadors invaded and plundered the strongholds of the great Inca Empire. And the chain of heredity stretched link by link, unbroken, down to the present day - and the man whose breath even now was warm against her ear, a whispered compulsion.
‘It is sad that so many things of beauty are so transient and intangible, is it not, senorita? That shower of stars, but one has scarcely time to hold the sight of them. And the cold light of dawn will reveal all that is left; a few tawdry rags of charred paper, the colours lost in the moistness of the dew. All that glowing magnificence - just so many spent matches.’
‘Like the shadow and the substance, senor.’
A tremor ran through her as a line of rockets shot up simultaneously to release a falling curtain of stars. Abruptly the Clasp on her shoulders fell away and even as she trembled again two warm dark wings opened and stole round her. Unbelievably, she was standing enfolded within the Conde’s cloak.
She stood there, hardly daring to breathe, held in a bitter ecstasy she wished could last for ever. But it was almost over; the ring of roman candles flickered into darkness and the torches were burning low. She was acutely conscious of the lean strength of him behind her, a temptation urging every sense to relax and melt back against that strength. She tried to pretend that she sensed a reluctance in him to release her, and knew she was going to feel bereft of joy when he drew away and the heavy dark folds no longer made their delightful prison. He said softly, ‘There is a rug in the car. I will—’ He never finished what he was going to say. A shrill voice demanded his attention. Consuelo was hurrying up the rise towards him, and at first Hilary could not take in the angry spate of words. Then horror swept over her as she heard Juanita’s name - and Ramon’s.
‘I tell you I saw them!’ Consuelo stormed ‘The deceitful muchacha! And we believed her tale of a dolor de cabeza!’
Silence had fallen on the other guests. Some of them hovered on the fringe of the circle round the tempestuous Consuel
o. Others, about to get into their cars, looked at each other, the shocked murmurs running from lip to lip.
The Conde’s expression had frozen into icy disapproval. He snapped out a question to Consuelo and she tossed her head defiantly. ‘If you do not believe me go and see for yourself. Your niece and Ramon are down there - I saw them with my own two eyes, senor. They were behaving like Indios!’
Ramon! and Juanita! A gasp of disbelief trembled on Hilary’s mouth. Suddenly she rushed forward. ‘But you must be mistaken! Juanita was in her room. I saw her asleep.’
‘That is what you say.’ Consuelo’s lip curled. ‘I believe you make it all up. You have encouraged her to be disobedient. To imitate your own wanton society. And tonight you cover up for her. Why do you deny it?’
‘But I do deny it!’ Staggered by the sudden turning of the attack on herself, Hilary flung out her hands in despairing appeal. ‘It isn’t true!’
‘Of course it isn’t.’ Silently Bruce had come to her side. His arm curved round her shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. ‘Take it easy, honey. No one can blame you for this.’
But they could. Hilary licked dry lips and forced herself to look at the tall forbidding man who had wrapped her within his cloak only minutes ago. He was staring at her with a chill intensity that struck ice into her heart. He did believe Consuelo. And he did blame her!
CHAPTER TEN
‘All we wanted was one hour together - to say our goodbyes. Was that too much to steal?’
Hilary sighed hopelessly. ‘In my world - no; in yours - yes. But why choose such a public place? Right in the middle of the festivities. You knew the entire family would be gathered to watch.’ Hilary sighed again and stared unseeingly across the garden.
‘Because we thought the crowd was the safest place. No one would think of going down there while the fireworks were on, and then we could slip back unseen before they returned. ’
‘It would have been better if you’d stayed indoors. I doubt if there was a single person left in the house.’ Hilary turned from the balcony and wandered back into the room, to flop dispiritedly into a chair.
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