by Anne Hampson
Laura shook her head.
‘I shall have to take some tests, but I have all the materials with me.’
‘The work of restoration is extremely delicate,’ he said knowledgeably, ‘especially on those two which have been scratched. ’
‘Yes, indeed.’
‘You said just now that you were looking at the damage. Was it your intention to make some effort at disguising the damage which Clara had done?’
‘I thought I might do some minor repairs to the one which wasn’t so deeply scratched,’ she had to admit. ‘But it would not really have passed muster if an expert had looked at it. ’
His hard grey eyes were stern.
‘I should have been angry indeed had you touched any one of my pictures without first asking my permission.’ The Conde paused a moment, as if allowing Laura to digest this. ‘I expect you will now make a thorough job of the restoration.’ A statement even though it was spoken in the tone of a question. Laura answered that she would guarantee him a successful restoration of those two paintings. If he was satisfied, she thought there was a good chance of his asking her to, do the rest, but of course she made no mention of this to the Conde; the time was definitely not right.
Within a couple of hours she was unpacked and comfortably settled again in her room. Teresa was delighted and made no attempt to hide that delight.
‘So you will be here for some weeks at least?’ she said.
‘Yes, at least a month,’ replied Laura with a smile. ‘It will take at least that long to do the two paintings.’
‘And the rest?’
‘I don’t know about those yet,’ replied Laura with a rueful inflection. ‘It all depends on whether or not I satisfy Dom Duarte with these first two.’
‘He’s very hard to please,’ stated Teresa with a shake of her dark head. ‘You see, senhorita, he’s a perfectionist.’
‘I know that,’ returned Laura wryly. ‘I can only do my best and hope that it will be good enough. ’
Marianna had up till now had little to do with Laura, but later, when Laura was changing for dinner—the Conde having sent word up by Teresa that he would expect her to dine with him and Dona Eduarda, she knocked on Laura’s bedroom door and entered in answer to her invitation.
‘I feel I ought to apologise for Clara’s naughtiness,’ she began without preamble, and in excellent English. ‘I blame myself, in a way, because I have allowed her to run from me, several times.’ The girl seemed distressed, thought Laura, hastening to reassure her. — ‘It doesn’t matter now,’ she smiled, feeling sorry for the girl. It couldn’t be easy, keeping a continuous watch on a child as lively and venturesome as Clara. ‘ I rather think that Clara will be a little subdued for the next week or so.’
Marianna’s eyes opened wide.
‘More than a week or so!’ she declared. ‘Her uncle severely chastised her, and threatened even more if she got into any further scrapes while she is with him.’
Laura said,
‘Do her parents tend to spoil her a little? Is that what’s wrong?’
‘They do spoil her, yes. She’s the only child, you see, and it would be better if she had a brother or sister, I think. ’
‘Yes, I agree.’
‘When she comes here it’s so different for her; she has to behave.’
Laura did not doubt that, but said no more on the subject. Marianna, seeing that she was glancing anxiously at the clock, withdrew quietly and Laura was able to continue with her dressing. She had been surprised by the invitation and she now wondered what Dona Eduarda would think about having her dine with her and Dom Duarte. That she would not be pleased went without saying.
Laura at last picked up the comb and ran it through her luxurious hair. The colour had come up brighter than ever, the result of a new shampoo she had used that morning. Her dress of white broderie anglaise over a turquoise underskirt was a dream—so Avice had said on first seeing it. Laura liked it too and by the time she was on her way down to the dining-room she felt she had never looked more attractive than she did this evening. The dressing on her temple, though not very large, did show, but even to Laura’s critical eye it. was by no means unsightly enough to mar her appearance. Her rosy lips formed a ready smile when on entering the room she encountered Dom Duarte, superb in a dinner jacket and snow-white shirt. Her cheeks glowed with healthy colour, her hair shone, as did her eyes, and she felt the Conde’s eyes staying on her rather longer than was usual. And they flickered in the strangest way. If only Dona Eduarda were not here ... What was she thinking about? Laura asked herself; it could make no difference at all if the Portuguese girl was not here ... or could it? Those occasions when she and the Conde had dined alone were rather wonderful, even though he was aloof and she often shy and unsure of herself.
‘A drink, senhorita?’ His voice was not so austere as usual and she wondered if he were in a forgiving mood. Yet immediately on this idea was the sharp reminder that although he now knew it was Clara who had damaged the pictures, there was still much he did not know. For instance, he still believed that she, Laura, had tempted Clara to go into the sea; he still believed that she had meant to abandon the child, swimming for safety herself. But he had once said that perhaps Laura had some reason for her rudeness towards Dona Eduarda, reflected Laura thoughtfully, and wondered if the Conde with his shrewdness of mind had had an idea that there was another aspect to that incident. No, she decided. The Conde’s instinct would surely be to believe the girl whom he knew, who was his friend. He would never expect her to lie. Why, then, had he spoken those words about Laura having a reason for her rudeness towards the Portuguese girl? With an inward sigh of resignation Laura owned to herself that her question was unanswerable. In any case, the Conde was speaking again, asking which drink she preferred.
‘You’ll be making a start on the pictures tomorrow morning,
I presume?’ he was saying with cool politeness after handing Laura her drink.
‘I’ll be busy with the tests, yes.’
‘Take your time,’ he said. ‘I want perfection; nothing else matters.’
Laura sipped her drink, wishing the Conde would sit down; his height always overpowered her.
Dona Eduarda was taking a long time to get dressed, thought Laura, glancing at the wall-clock. Dom Duarte appeared not to mind in the least that the Portuguese girl was not here. He chatted for a few minutes with Laura about the pictures, and it seemed incredible that, only a few hours earlier, she had received from his scathing lips the most severe telling off of her life.
‘Tell me about your father,’ he invited, taking possession of a chair at last. ‘I am sorry I could not have him here at the time I wrote. He was a very clever man, so I was informed.’
‘Very clever. He loved old paintings; he passed this love on to me.’ Laura’s shy grey-green eyes met the Conde’s, then were hidden as her lashes came down. ‘I’m most fortunate in being given this—er—reprieve, if one could call it that.’
‘Perhaps,’ murmured Dom Duarte unexpectedly, ‘we shall both be fortunate. I certainly shall consider myself so if you do in fact make a good job of my paintings. I was impressed by the notes you made, and would like to see your testimonials, if you would let me have them some time?’
‘Thank you, Dom Duarte!’ Her eagerness was plain, for him to see and a hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. ‘I’m so glad that you are willing to take a look at them.’
‘You sound proud of them?’
‘I am, very proud of them.’
‘Ah ... ’ Dom Duarte turned as Dona Eduarda entered the room. ‘There you are.’ His eyes wandered over the svelte figure, then settled on the girl’s lovely, classical face. ‘Let me get you a drink.’ The Conde rose at once and went over to the cocktail cabinet. Dona Eduarda just stood for a long moment and stared at Laura as if she could not believe that she was really here. Without any attempt at tact she said,
‘Is Miss Conroy dining with us, Duarte?’
‘Yes,’ he replied with a smile. ‘As I mentioned to you earlier, Miss Conroy’s going to restore those two paintings which were damaged by Clara.’
‘I see.’ The girl stared again, automatically accepting the glass which was being handed to her by Dom Duarte. Her face was a study, registering arrogance, disdain, superiority. But there was something else altogether, a sort of envy, an invidiousness that went deep so that it was revealed in the hateful twist of the girl s mouth, the dark venom of her expression. Laura could actually feel this intense dislike which the girl had for her, could experience a prickling sensation running along her spine, affecting her nerves, her mind, her heart even.
‘You appear to be displeased about something,’ observed Dom Duarte as he stood beside the girl, looking down into her face.
‘Me?’ Dona Eduarda managed a light laugh. ‘I’m far from displeased, Duarte,’ she purred, and then, having drunk her aperitif very quickly, she asked Dom Duarte to pour her another.
He obliged. Laura discovered a charm about him this evening that affected her emotions profoundly. She wished again that the Portuguese girl was not here, wished that she and the Conde
were dining alone
CHAPTER SEVEN
All through the meal Laura knew this charm, was affected by the Conde’s every word, every turn of his head, every expression in his steely grey eyes. She was fully aware that the Portuguese girl was watching her, that she knew of the effect the Conde was having on her. There were occasions when, unnoticed by Dom Duarte, Dona Eduarda would send an almost venomous glance in Laura’s direction and Laura would experience a great dampness of spirit at the idea of the Conde’s marrying this girl, of spending the rest of his life with her. Dona Eduarda was, outwardly, beautiful, flawless in every way. Inwardly she was hard, unfeeling, mercenary. Surely Dom Duarte could see this? Perhaps, though, the girl’s character was of far less importance than her beauty, as a man like the Conde Duarte Andre Volante de Taviro Mauredo would have to have a wife who would be an adornment to this fantastically beautiful palace, a woman who could act like a queen, for assuredly the Conde was a king, king of this lovely coral island of Torassa.
‘Senhorita, you are not hungry?’ The question came from the Conde; his eyes were on her plate.
Laura smiled and said,,
‘I was day-dreaming. I’m sorry if I wasn’t attending to my food.’ Was that the correct thing to say? Laura was always wondering if her manners and etiquette were correct, as living in a palace was far different from living in her small flat at home.
‘Perhaps,’ drawled Dona Eduarda, ‘our food isn’t to Miss Conroy’s liking.’
‘On the contrary,’ returned Laura, ‘I find your food delicious, especially the fish. ’
‘Ah, yes,’ smiled Dom Duarte, ‘our fish. It is caught each day, you see, and so it’s always fresh. I expect you’ve tasted some kinds of seafood here that you’ve never tasted before?’
Laura nodded, trying to hurry with what was on her plate, conscious that the other two were waiting for her, as was the liveried footman standing behind the Conde.
‘Yes, indeed. I had some delicious fish last evening at the cafe in town. I have forgotten the name------ ’
‘You were in the restaurant last evening?’ broke in Dona Eduarda. ‘With your boy-friend?’
Colouring up, Laura said with a sort of stiff politeness that she did not have a boy-friend, either here or at home.
‘The young man I was with is a visitor to Torassa; he’s staying with his sister. ’
‘Yes, you’ve been going out with him, though.’ A statement. Laura allowed her glance to travel to the Conde, sitting at the head of the table—like a feudal overlord with one of his vassals behind him, ready to obey his slightest command.
‘I have been, out with him once or twice,’ admitted Laura, aware of anger rising within her. How long was the girl staying at the Palacio? she wondered ... wishing she would leave the very next day!
‘Have you met his sister and her husband?’ inquired Dom Duarte conversationally.
‘Yes, Rex took me to their house.’ Laura put down her knife and fork and leant back in her chair. The footman quietly removed the three plates, then put down three more.
‘Pedro and his wife are very good friends of mine,’ said Dom Duarte. ‘They will be my guests for dinner next Saturday.’
So Rex might visit the Palacio after all. Laura did not ask the Conde whether Rex was included, though; it would seem to be an impertinence on her part.
Later, the Conde asked Laura if she was quite happy with her room. His intention had originally been to give her father a suite, and this was available should she want it.
‘You would have a sitting-room,’ he added, ‘that is the main difference.’ He looked at her unsmilingly, waiting for her answer.
‘I like my room,’ she said. ‘I’d rather keep it, if you don’t mind?’
‘I shouldn’t think it necessary for Miss Conroy to have a suite,’ remarked Dona Eduarda with the hint of a frown. ‘After all, it was a Mr. Conroy to whom you were giving the suite.’
The Conde, impassive, picked up his knife and fork. Laura wondered if Dona Eduarda grasped that she’d been snubbed. At least, Laura herself would have considered his action as a snub, had it been she who had interrupted with the irrelevancy about Mr. Conroy. Looking at the girl, Laura did notice the merest hint of pink about her cheeks, but the next moment Dona Eduarda was
talking to Dom Duarte about the ride they had had that morning.
‘It was marvellous!’ she exclaimed. ‘The early morning air here on Torassa is something one has to experience, for it cannot be described.’
‘A small piece of land surrounded by water is usually a place where the air is clear and fresh,’ remarked the Conde. ‘Do you ride, senhorita?’
‘Not now,’ replied Laura. ‘When I was small I used to visit my grandmother, who lived in the country. There was a riding-school at the end of the lane and she paid for lessons for me.’
‘You enjoyed riding?’
‘I loved it.’
‘I have several horses in the stables; you are at liberty to ride one if you wish. ’
Laura’s shy eyes sparkled.
‘Oh, thank you, Dom Duarte! Thank you very much.’
Her eagerness obviously touched a chord of amusement because a smile came to the corner of his mouth. Dona Eduarda, on the other hand, was frowning darkly and Laura knew without any doubt at all that she was displeased at the offer made by the Conde.
‘See one of the grooms,’ he was saying. ‘He’ll advise you about a suitable mount. If you haven’t ridden much recently you’ll not be wanting too lively an animal at first.’
‘I’ll do that,’ returned Laura shyly. She smiled at him, and saw his interest being caught. The Portuguese girl’s eyes slanted towards Laura, and in them there was something akin to actual hatred. Laura shivered, but became composed again instantly. For she was in a very happy state of mind because she was staying at the Palacio after all, and because the Conde was being nice to her ... and because of some new sensation in the region of her heart, a sensation which was quite beyond her understanding but which lifted her to such pleasurable heights that the slight tinge of fear that accompanied it passed her by almost unnoticed.
The main course, of pheasant, was cleared away, and over the souffle the three chatted about the island, with the Conde, most gracious even though he remained unsmiling, telling Laura that she must now do some exploring.
‘You will have your week-ends,’ he added. ‘Teresa can again act as your guide.’
What a change in the man, Laura was saying to herself
much later when, having said goodnight to Dom Duarte and his friend, she went up to her bedroom to change her dress before taking a stroll in the palace grounds. The noble lord of Torassa was human after all, even though there, remained a certain austerity about him that forbade any approach that might be called friendly. Had anyone ever pro
gressed to the point of real intimacy with the man? Laura shook her head.
He was too steeped in a consciousness of his own importance, of his noble ancestry, of the fact that here, on this island, his word and his alone was law. All obeyed him, all revered him. Laura wondered if he enjoyed this exalted position, or if he merely took it for granted.
In order to dismiss him from her thoughts she deliberately brought in a picture of Rex, and a smile involuntarily curved her lips. He was charming, and how glad he would be on hearing her news. He would want to meet her and go out with her, but she was determined to impress upon him that she would be fully occupied during the daytime and could not, therefore, meet him until the evening.
Clara and Marianna were at the stables when, on the following Saturday morning, Laura went over to look at the horses.
‘Are you going to ride with us?’ asked Clara, her eyes lighting up.
‘Perhaps—if you want me to, that is?’ Laura glanced at Marianna, to see that she was nodding and smiling.
‘It would be very nice for the three of us to ride together,’ she said.
‘Will you be coming every morning?’ Clara wanted to know, but Laura shook her head.
‘Only on Saturdays and Sundays, Clara.’ She looked down at the child, wondering if she had already forgotten about the lie she told. Laura wished that the Conde knew the truth about that incident, but the next moment she was thinking of the child. The Conde must never know. Laura dared not think about the punishment he had inflicted on Clara for damaging the pictures, for undoubtedly he would have shown her no mercy, child though she was.
The three rode away from the stables together; the Conde and Dona Eduarda were having breakfast on a small patio and the
Conde waved as the three rode past in the distance. The Portuguese girl either did not notice them, or she chose to ignore them.
‘Do you think my uncle will marry Aunt Eduarda?’ asked Clara.
‘I have no idea.’ Laura felt her mouth go dry. ‘Shall we go that way, through the Great Park?’
‘Of course,’ answered Marianna obligingly. ‘We shall go wherever you would choose.’
