Isle of Desire

by Anne Hampson

  Laura warmed to the girl, with her unspoiled charm, her dark prettiness and her obliging manner. However, Laura was not intending to ride in the Park unless Marianna really wanted to. And in fact she did manage to get it out of her that she would prefer to ride on the beach.

  ‘Then it is the beach,’ stated Laura firmly.

  Marianna seemed taken aback at this spontaneous decision of Laura’s to change her mind.

  ‘Tomorrow we will ride in the Park,’ she said, and this was agreed.

  ‘If Aunt Eduarda and Uncle Duarte marry then I shall be a bridesmaid,’ said Clara. ‘Is it called that in English?’ she added, wrinkling her brow.

  ‘Yes, that’s correct. You do very excellently with your English, Clara.’

  ‘Her parents have used two languages with her almost since she could talk,’ put in Marianna. ‘They believe that everyone should speak your language, as then they are understood almost wherever they might go.’

  'Also, here on Torassa nearly everyone uses English all the time.’

  ‘That’s true,’ agreed Marianna. ‘The island used to be owned by one of your countrymen. ’

  ‘How long will it be, Marianna,’ said Clara, ‘before we know whether they will get married?’

  ‘That’s not a very sensible question, Clara.’

  ‘You always know things. Why is it not sensible?’

  ‘Because no one knows if your aunt and uncle will marry.’

  ‘I heard my mama say that they nearly got married once before.’

  ‘Watch where you’re going,’ warned Marianna as they went slowly along the beach. ‘There are large lumps of coral here and there. Don’t let Murani step on one of them.’

  ‘You always change the subject when I speak of Aunt and Uncle getting married,’ protested Clara with a frown. ‘Miss Conroy, you tell me, please, if you think they’ll get married soon.’

  'I’ve already told you, I have no idea, Clara.’

  ‘I’m glad they didn’t get married once before,’ went on Clara, undaunted by the answers she was receiving. ‘Because I was too young to be a bridesmaid. I didn’t like Uncle Joao anyway!’ ‘Hush! You don’t say things about people who have died.’ ‘Aunt Eduarda does. She said she was sorry she’d married him.’

  Marianna was uncomfortable and it showed. She sent a darkling glance in the direction of her charge, but it had little effect on that young lady.

  ‘Shall we turn back now?’ Laura suggested, hoping to divert the child’s interest. ‘We’ve ridden a long way.’

  ‘Can’t we go to the headland?’

  ‘No, I think we shall turn back,’ said Marianna.

  ‘Can we come after lunch and swim in the lagoon?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  They all turned around and cantered along the soft white sands, the fresh clean breeze from the Indian Ocean caressing their faces and teasing their hair. The Conde and Dona Eduarda were at the stables when they arrived back.

  ‘Did you have a good ride?’ he asked, his grey eyes taking in Laura’s flushed cheeks and tousled hair.

  ‘Yes, lovely, thanks!’

  ‘I see that Nayrilla was chosen for you. Happy with the mount?’

  ‘Very-----’ Laura, having dismounted, patted the horse’s neck

  before the groom appeared to take it away. Another groom was saddling Burkan, a beautiful purebred Arab stallion, which the Conde invariably rode. ‘She’s a dream! So gentle ...’ Laura’s voice trailed away as she became aware of her own enthusiasm. The Conde was always so stiff and impassive that any show of emotion seemed out of place. In a more demure voice she added, ‘Thank you very much, Dom Duarte, for letting me have the horse.’

  ‘A pleasure, senhorita,’ was his cool but gracious rejoinder. His eyes wandered and he watched a third groom saddling

  Ludran, another Arabian pure-bred whom Dona Eduarda was going to ride.

  Laura watched them both ride away, a superlative couple, both with the same aristocratic bearing, both riding incredibly beautiful horses. A tiny sigh escaped her; she felt restless and knew that it was the Conde who disturbed her. Out of reach though he was his influence affected her, set in motion a sort of yearning that was both incomprehensible and troublesome.

  After lunch Laura went out to meet Rex on the beach. They swam in the lagoon, then sunbathed on the warm white sands with their fringe of palm trees behind which lay the lush green hills of the island.

  ‘It’s idyllic,’ she murmured, feeling rather proud of the lovely golden tan she was swiftly acquiring.

  ‘ And romantic,’ supplemented her companion. ‘The perfect setting for a romance to start, in fact.’

  Laura laughed, even though she was well aware that his words held a seriousness about them that was meant to reach her.

  ‘I’ve made a good start on the Conde’s paintings,’ she said, stretching her legs luxuriously on the towel she had brought out with her from England.

  ‘Work!’ was Rex’s scoffing rejoinder. ‘I was talking of something far more interesting!’

  ‘I came here to work,’ she reminded him.

  ‘But your work finishes on a Friday night and doesn’t start again until Monday morning. This is Saturday afternoon. ’

  Again she laughed.

  ‘Are you looking forward to the Conde’s dinner party this evening?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes! Don’t change the subject!’

  ‘I’m not wanting romance, Rex.’

  Rex frowned at her from his sitting position on another gaily-coloured towel.

  ‘I have never heard the word romance spoken in so prosaic a manner,’ he chided.

  ‘Maybe I’m unromantic,’ she suggested, her eyes wandering to the ship that had appeared on the horizon. Was it a cruise ship? she wondered. It certainly would not be calling here.

  ‘You are not unromantic! Have you ever had a boy-friend, a serious one, I mean?’

  Laura said no, she had always been far too busy with her work. ‘It was busy enough when Father was alive,’ she added, ‘but

  it’s even worse now that I have everything to do myself. I love my work, though. It’s so absorbing. ’

  ‘As long as you don’t allow it to become all absorbing it’ll be okay. All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl.’

  ‘Am I dull?’ she asked with feigned concern. Her thoughts flitted to the Conde. Did he consider her dull? she wondered ... and this time her concern was genuine!

  ‘Certainly not!’ Rex slid down and came closer to her. ‘I could like you a lot, Laura,’ he said.

  ‘You’ll be leaving here in less than a week,’ she reminded him.

  ‘What of it? We’ve already exchanged addresses and said we’d keep in touch.’

  ‘Keeping in touch is all right, but as for anything else ...’

  ‘Yes?’ he prompted when her voice had faded.

  ‘My work, Rex-------’

  ‘You could keep on with your work even if we were married. ’

  ‘Married?’ Laura sat up rather suddenly. ‘I’m not thinking of getting married, Rex.’

  ‘No, that was silly of me,’ he declared with an edge of anger to his tone. ‘I was way ahead, wasn’t I?’

  ‘A very long way ahead,’ answered Laura seriously. ‘We hardly know one another, Rex.’

  ‘I feel as if I’ve known you for ages.’

  Laura’ s gaze was fixed on the ship, a tiny matchbox toy in the vastness of the ocean, but her mind was on the illustrious owner of the Palacio de Mauredo, who many people expected would eventually marry the beautiful and sophisticated Dona Eduarda de Manso, a millionairess in her own right.

  ‘Penny for them,’ she heard her companion say, jerking her from her reverie.

  ‘ I was thinking of Dom Duarte and Dona Eduarda. ’

  ‘She’s still at the Palacio?’

  Of course. You’ll be meeting her this evening.’

  ‘ Hmm ... Will they announce their engagement, do you suppose?’

  Announ
ce ... Something icy rippled along Laura’s back, erasing the sun’s warmth. ‘Why do you ask a question like that?’

  Rex gave a shrug.

  ‘ Melanie seems to expect an early announcement, so I just had the idea that it might be made this evening.’ A silence followed. Laura felt her mouth go dry, just as it had this morning when Clara mentioned marriage between Dona Eduarda and the Conde. What was this sense of dejection, this dampness of spirit which assailed her? Why should she care if the two got married? Who was she to have any sort of opinion about the suitability of Dona Eduarda as a wife for Dom Duarte? Much less should she have the fixed opinion that he would be making a mistake in marrying her.

  ‘I suppose—suppose it could be tonight,’ she murmured at last.

  ‘A dazzlingly beautiful girl, plus a million or so of what makes life pleasant—he can’t go wrong, can he? I don’t know what the delay is for; it isn’t as if she’s only just been widowed. I think Melanie said that a couple of years have gone by since her husband died. ’

  Laura said nothing. The warmth had gone from her and even the sun’s rays seemed brittle and cold. What was the matter with her? What caused this depression ... what really caused it?

  And then, with the speed of a flash of lightning, the truth was sparked off in her brain.

  ‘No ... no ... !’ She refused to admit it, convinced herself that her mind was playing her tricks. Her one and only interest in the Conde Duarte Andre Volante de Taviro Mauredo was that he owned precious works of art which she was here to restore to their original condition of colour and beauty.

  The guests had arrived and were in the Blue Lounge with their pre-dinner drinks. Laura, having been in some doubt as to whether or not she would be invited to dine with the Conde and his guests, found her feelings mixed when at last the invitation was brought to her by Teresa. It was an undeniable fact that a certain pleasure would be hers, if only because of the presence of Rex, but on the other hand Laura was not in the least looking forward to an evening in the company of Dona Eduarda. Of her flash of comprehension earlier she would not think. With a sort of fierce determination she thrust it from her consciousness; she was not in love with the Conde! Not! Hadn’t she always been a sensible person, never desiring that which was out of reach? Hadn’t she always been content with the idea that she would

  eventually marry someone of her own station in life, and of her own country? This Portuguese nobleman, an alien and an aristocrat, had no place at all in the picture she had developed regarding her future.

  No, she most certainly was not in love with the man—and that was the end of that!

  She took up a comb, drew it through her hair in a couple of final strokes, her big grey-green eyes taking in all that looked back at her from the mirror. Her dress of ivory organza was high at the neckline, tight at the waist, and very full from there down, flowing out at the hemline. The sleeves were long, each tightly gathered into a narrow wristband which was fastened with four small pearl buttons. No jewellery adorned her except a small bracelet that had been her mother’s.

  She entered the room shyly, hesitantly, her eyes seeking those of the Conde. How devastatingly handsome he looked!— superbly attired with a correctness that instantly proclaimed him to be a man of quality ... a man apart.

  Melanie smiled and so did Pedro, while Rex just stared at Laura in admiration. Dom Duarte came forward a step or two to indicate a vacant chair.

  ‘Senhorita, please sit down. I believe introductions are unnecessary.’ He inquired what she would like to drink, then went to get it for her.

  ‘You look ravishing!’ declared Rex. ‘Pedro, you said she was pretty—but what do you think now?’

  ‘She’s very beautiful,’ he answered gallantly.

  Laura coloured delectably, and it was at that moment that the Conde turned, the glass in his hand. He stood still, his cool grey eyes examining her. Dona Eduarda seemed to be having a little trouble with her breathing, for her chest was moving up and down far more quickly than was normal.

  ‘Allow me to compliment you on that most charming dress, Miss Conroy,’ he said, and came forward with her drink.

  ‘Thank you, Dom Duarte,’ murmured Laura, wishing she was not suffering such a high degree of embarrassment. Praise, though, had always done this to her, even praise for her work.

  Light conversation followed, with Rex monopolising Laura for most of the time. Dona Eduarda did speak to Laura once or twice, but there was always a coldness in her voice, and in her eyes an expression of superiority which to Laura was offensive.

  It seemed as if the girl were portraying disdain for one who was very far beneath her. Melanie was vivacious, her husband quiet and reserved. Strange, thought Laura after studying them for a while, how opposite personalities could find harmony together.

  The dinner was announced eventually and they proceeded into the glittering dining-room where the long table was alight with many candles set in silver candelabra. There were individual flower arrangements as well as the large centrepiece of orchids and rare ferns. The crystal glass gleamed beside each cover, the cutlery shone, as did the cruets, all of which were of antique silver.

  Laura was seated next to Rex, and although she listened with apparent attention to all he was saying, her eyes would keep on straying to the Conde, who seemed deeply interested in the woman on his right ... Dona Eduarda. Laura noticed the significant glances of Melanie and her husband, and knew again that sensation of depression at the thought of the engagement being announced. How could the Conde be attracted to a woman as cold as Dona Eduarda? Did he not desire affection in his marriage?

  ‘Laura, you’re dreaming again. You seem to make a habit of it.’ Rex’s voice in her ear brought her eyes from the fixed position as she stared at the Conde’s profile while he talked to Dona Eduarda.

  ‘ Sorry. Er—what were you saying?’

  ‘Never mind. You’ve stopped dreaming and that’s all that matters.’ Rex paused a moment. ‘See what I mean about those two? Thick as you like, aren’t they? Must get married, both of them, so why not to each other?’

  ‘Must get married?’

  The Conde to have an heir and Eduarda to regain the status of a married lady. ’

  ‘ Surely they’ll not marry for such flimsy reasons as those! ’

  ‘I don’t consider wanting an heir as a flimsy reason for marrying,’ returned Rex in some amusement. ‘All wealthy people do it. ’

  Laura frowned and spoke to Pedro, feeling she must drag her thoughts away from this possibility of an announcement which she knew would only serve to increase her dejection.

  The dinner was over at last and they all retired to the Blue Lounge for coffee and liqueurs. There were dainty sweetmeats too, and cigarettes for those who wanted them. Rex and Pedro

  lighted up, but not the Conde. Dona Eduarda had her own particular brand; Laura watched while Dom Duarte flicked a lighter and held the flame to her cigarette. The two appeared to be looking into each other’s eyes, and once again significant glances were exchanged between Pedro and his wife.

  ‘You know,’ remarked Rex very softly, ‘those two could be seriously attracted to one another—in love, I mean.’

  Laura turned to him, aware that Dom Duarte’s eyes were now on her and not on the Portuguese girl.

  ‘In love?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe that Dona, Eduarda is capable of loving anyone.’

  ‘You could be right, I suppose,’ he conceded after a moment’s thought. ‘She has a hard face, I’ll give you that.’

  The evening wore on and it now seemed most unlikely that any announcement would be made. Laura found herself actually breathing a deep sigh of relief when at last the guests were ready to leave.

  ‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ said Melanie. ‘Laura, you must come to see us next week-end. It doesn’t matter that Rex won’t be here.’

  Murmuring her thanks, Laura glanced at Rex, to see a disconsolate expression cross his face. However, he thanked the
Conde graciously and a few minutes later Laura was saying goodnight to him in the hall.

  ‘Dona Eduarda’s not very partial to you, my girl,’ stated Rex as he was leaving. His mouth was close to Laura’s ear, and she caught the Conde’s disapproving eye as he noticed this intimacy on Rex’s part. ‘She looks daggers at you most of the time.’ Although Laura was well aware that this was true, she merely laughed and said lightly,

  ‘Your imagination’s running away with you, Rex! ’ He shrugged his shoulders, bade her goodnight, and went down the white marble steps in the wake of his sister and brother-in-law.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ON the following Monday morning Laura was in the Gallery when Dom Duarte came up, a certain casualness about him that to Laura was both new and attractive. Again she told herself that he was human, and again she found the question hovering on the edge of her mind: had anyone ever progressed to the point of intimacy with this illustrious nobleman whose domain was nothing less than the entire island, this in addition to the vast pastures and vineyards and cork forests he owned in his native Portugal?

  His presence here in the Gallery was disconcerting, to say the least; his voice, though, was quiet and friendly as he inquired how the work was going on.

  ‘I’ve been carrying out several tests as to colours,’ Laura explained, disturbed by his nearness, by the faint elusive smell of body lotion, fresh as the breeze drifting down from the pine-clad mountains. This stirring of her emotions, this new and exciting sensation which circled between her heart and mind, this awareness of the admission she had been forced to make ... all these spelled love ... Love! And for a man as distant as the stars! A man exalted, a nobleman whose looks and physique and personality were superlative. Fool that she was! Rex, now, was well within her reach, so why hadn’t she shown her innate common sense and responded to the man who was on her own level?

  ‘Your tests have proved successful?’ the Conde was asking.

  ‘Some of them; others have not.’ She went on to explain some technical details, doubting whether his interest would be held, but it was. He wanted to know everything that was going on. This interest never flagged and each morning he would come up and talk with her for a few minutes. She began to wonder if he had doubts about her ability to restore these two paintings, and in consequence he was watching closely her progress. However, he never spoke one word of criticism, but rather did he now and then give her a word of praise. As usual she would colour as embarrassment took possession of her. Dom Duarte’s eyes would sometimes darken with the most odd expression and on these particular occasions he would invariably become curt and cold with her, just as if he were remembering the social barrier that existed between them.