Isle of Desire

by Anne Hampson

  ‘I’m sorry, senhor,’ Laura apologised for crying. ‘I was so afraid.’

  ‘Of course you were.’ So soft and compassionate, so gentle and understanding. Not so with Clara, who received a look that warned her of trouble to come, once he had her back at the Palacio. ‘It was

  most fortunate that I happened to hear Clara’s screams------ ’ He sent

  her another dark and threatening glance which caused Laura to shiver. He was so very formidable in this mood! She said, unconsciously speaking her thoughts aloud,

  ‘She’s been punished enough, by the fright she’s had.’ Dom Duarte said nothing, merely indicating the path from which Clara had run on deciding to explore the ground beyond. Laura, drenched to the waist, looked down grimly at her ruined slacks and shoes. Still, she and Clara were safe, and that was all that mattered. How the Conde came to be here at so opportune a moment she could not imagine, but learned later that he himself had decided to take a long walk, and by some miracle had chosen the route taken by Laura and her young charge.

  Clara walked so slowly that her uncle had to tell her to hurry, indicating that she should go in front as the path was narrow.

  ‘I’m frightened of you,’ she said in English, her glance going to Laura as if begging her to speak on her behalf. Laura could find nothing to say; in any case, she was wise enough to realise that the Conde would very soon put her in her place should she try to influence him as to the punishment which Clara would receive. Laura herself would have done very little other than telling Clara off, because, as she had said, the child had had such a fright that she would never be so venturesome again.

  ‘ I’m afraid,’ said the Conde sternly, ‘that you’ll be even more afraid of me if you don’t learn to behave.’ He turned to Laura, who was walking at his side. ‘I don’t blame you at all for what has happened, Miss Conroy,’ he assured her. ‘I couldn’t expect you to keep hold of her hand all the time.’

  Laura said nothing, but was inwardly thankful that he had not blamed her. On their arrival at the Palacio Dom Duarte waived Laura’s offer to see the child. He would get one of the maids to give her a bath and a change of clothes.

  ‘You yourself are obviously most uncomfortable,’ he observed, his eyes flickering over her. ‘We must do something about compensating you for those clothes.’

  She shook her head in protest.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Dom Duarte,’ she told him quietly. ‘You saved us, and that’s all that matters.’ A smile touched her lips; the Conde seemed fascinated by the limpid quality of her eyes. His smile came, bringing her warmth, and a strange feeling of happiness. He was different, somehow, despite the sternness which lurked beneath the surface.

  ‘Go and change,’ he said when she would have spoken again. ‘And take the rest of the day off.’

  She did not argue, aware that it would be futile. Nor did she try to put in a word far Clara, once again sure that the Conde would tolerate no interference as regards his dealings with his niece.

  About a week later Laura was given a large cardboard box by Teresa.

  ‘From Dom Duarte,’ she said with a bright smile. ‘You are becoming a favourite with him, senhorita.’

  ‘A—favourite?’ repeated Laura, her pulse quickening. ‘What do you mean, Teresa?’ Laura’s eyes were on the box which Teresa had thrust into her hands. The name of a fashion shop was on the lid; Laura remembered seeing the shop in the small town in which the teashop was situated.

  ‘He smiled when he told me to give it to you. Dom Duarte does not smile very much, but you must have noticed this? ’

  ‘Yes,’ Laura put the box on the bed, her mind bewildered as she tried to guess what it could contain. ‘Er—thank you, Teresa.’

  The dismissal was received with an affable inclination of Teresa’s head and the next moment Laura was alone, her fascinated gaze fixed on the cardboard box. Slowly she untied the string, then lifted off the lid. A pair of slacks! Expensively-cut, she noticed as she lifted them from their wrapping of white tissue-paper. Underneath was a white sweater—almost identical to the one she had been wearing on the day she had gone into the bog after Clara. And beneath this, in a separate wrapping, was a pair of shoes to match the slacks.

  ‘A complete outfit to replace the other ...’ She could not accept it, of course. The very presence of it on her bed embarrassed her, and after only the merest hesitation she left her room and went down to find the Conde. He was in the garden, strolling along the edge of the lake, idly watching the waterfowl swimming about in the tropical sunshine. Many trees were in flower and their perfume wafted across to where Laura was walking, taking a short cut across a wide velvet lawn fringed with delicate almond trees and exotic flowers grouped according to their various colours, creating a delightful mosaic when viewed from a distance.

  The Conde turned his head and then stopped, a smile coming slowly to his lips. The inquiry in his eyes faded the moment Laura began to speak, when presently she reached him.

  ‘Dom Duarte, it is kind of you to replace the things I spoiled, but I cannot accept your gift.’ The words came all of a rush, as the Conde’s expression was changing to one of near arrogance. ‘It wouldn’t be right,’ she added before he could speak.

  ‘No? Why not?’

  ‘Well... clothes ... ’

  The arrogance was dispelled unexpectedly, to be replaced by a hint of amusement.

  ‘There would be no objection if, for example, you had ruined something less personal?’

  Laura coloured slightly.

  ‘I suppose you are right,’ she admitted after a pause.

  ‘It is my wish, senhorita, that you accept the replacements.’

  She shook her head automatically, and avoided his gaze by concentrating on a humming-bird that hovered above a vivid crimson anthurium flower.

  ‘The slacks I spoiled were far from new, senhor,’ she said at last.

  ‘I fail to see what that has got to do with it,’ was Dom Duarte’s cool rejoinder. ‘As I have said, it is my wish that you accept the replacements.’

  She looked at him, frowning.

  ‘Surely I can refuse them, Dom Duarte?’

  ‘No, senhorita, you can’t.’

  Laura blinked at him, pretending not to have heard the imperious note in his voice.

  ‘The sweater wasn’t ruined, not altogether.’

  To her surprise the Conde actually laughed. She caught her breath, intensely conscious of his charm.

  ‘Just half ruined, eh? The lower half, if I remember rightly. ’

  Her lip quivered, his amusement being infectious.

  ‘I did go in up to my waist, I must admit,’ she said, feeling rather foolish.

  ‘The shoes fitted all right?’ he asked.

  ‘I haven’t tried them on, naturally.’

  ‘Teresa gave me the size; she also took the size of the other things.’

  ‘Did she buy them?’ asked Laura with a curious glance.

  The Conde shook his head, informing her that his housekeeper had actually done the shopping for him. He was so calm about it all, just as if the buying of clothes for one of his employees was an everyday occurrence.

  ‘I believe she did try to get the exact colour of the slacks and sweater but failed to do so. I trust the colours she did get are to your liking?’ Laura bit her lip, wondering how she was to make her protest take effect. But on seeing the sudden change in Dom Duarte’s expression, she decided not to make any further protest at all. Instead she thanked him uneasily, stammering over her words. He listened in some amusement, his grey eyes almost twinkling. It was plain that her submissive attitude had served to please and satisfy him.

  ‘Well, now that you’ve got that off your mind perhaps we can talk about something else?’

  ‘Something else?’ echoed Laura. ‘I don’t understand.’

  The Conde gave her a curious look.

  ‘The pictures,’ he said after a slight pause. ‘Tell me how they are getting along?’

/>   ‘I haven’t done very well this past week,’ she answered. ‘I was

  looking after Clara------ ’

  ‘Yes, of course. But these last couple of days you’ve been working—during the mornings, that is.’ He paused again and smiled at her reassuringly. ‘I don’t expect marvels, senhorita, as I have already given you to understand. If you are happy with the way the renovations are progressing, then I am also.'

  ‘ I’m perfectly satisfied,’ she told him, returning his smile and at the same time endeavouring to ignore the fact that her emotions were being overwhelmingly affected by his presence in this most romantic setting of gardens and lake, of gay birds flitting about among the trees, and the tropical sunshine caressing the exotic, perfumed flowers which abounded everywhere. The marble statues gleamed white in the sun’s rays; the fountain made a rainbow of colour before cascading down into the lake. ‘I love the work,’ added Laura enthusiastically. ‘I do thank you, Dom Duarte, for letting me stay.’

  He looked down into her face; Laura wished she could understand his expression, but it was unreadable. She swallowed hard, aware that her every nerve was affected, becoming tensed. It was a profound and intimate moment ... the sort of breathless interlude which precedes a first kiss. Startled by this incredible idea, Laura felt the hot colour flood her cheeks. She turned swiftly from him, intending to move away, but he seemed to guess at her intention and his hand shot out, catching her by the wrist. That it was an involuntary action was evident by the amazement that leapt into his eyes. He seemed staggered that he had forgotten his dignity to this extent. And yet he made no move to release her, and they both stood and staring down, at his hand holding her wrist.

  ‘I—I—th-think I had better be going,’ she stammered at last.

  ‘Yes.’ The Conde’s voice was edged with a sort of anger; she wondered at the reason for it and glanced up. His face was expressionless. But suddenly he smiled, as if he had forgotten the tinge of anger that assailed him. ‘I would prefer that you stay a while,’ he said, and she stared incredulously at him.

  ‘Stay?’ ‘I find I desire company. ’

  ‘But—er ...’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Surely, senhor, you don’t desire my company?’

  The Conde let go of her wrist.

  ‘What makes you think that I don’t desire your company, senhorita?’

  She shook her head in bewilderment.

  ‘There seems no reason why you should,’ she returned reasonably.

  At this Dom Duarte’s eyes flickered with amusement. How different he was today!

  ‘If I were to say that I find pleasure in your company, would you then be less puzzled by my desire?’

  ‘I don’t—don’t understand you, sir.’ The last word escaped unbidden and she looked for a sign that she had vexed him. The smile still lingered in his eyes. ‘I should be less puzzled, naturally, but I am only a servant, senhor.’

  To her surprise this statement produced a swift frown.

  ‘No such thing! I believe I said, right at the start, that I would never have looked upon your father as a servant. That applies to you, senhorita. You are doing a valuable service, but you are not a servant!’

  She glanced away, hurt by the change in his manner. ‘If you really want me to stay,’ she began, ‘then of course I shall be happy to do so.’

  He actually laughed.

  ‘So formal a little speech! Senhorita, I really do want you to stay.’ His voice had softened; his gaze was definitely persuasive. Laura’s heart seemed to turn a somersault and her eyes were like stars. The Conde appeared to be intensely aware of her, seemed to have thrown his dignity to the winds. ‘Come, senhorita, let us walk in the Park.’

  She fell into step beside him as he moved, continuing alongside the lake. Water-lilies floated in profusion, and brightly-coloured butterflies settled on them, then winged away to settle on some other flowers growing on the grassy bank.

  ‘What an idyllic place this is!’ exclaimed Laura, quite unable to contain her appreciation a moment longer. ‘How privileged I am to be here!’

  ‘And how privileged I am to have you, senhorita,’ was the Conde’s staggering admission. ‘You thanked me just now for allowing you to stay. I believe I must thank you for agreeing to stay. ’

  Laura fell silent, unable to speak for the emotion which had her in its grip. Where was this kind of talk leading? That the Conde’s manner and voice were totally different from anything she had experienced before was an undoubted fact. She might have been his friend ... a friend who could become more ...

  The walk lasted over an hour; they chatted about the Palacio, about the paintings, about the island. But Laura eventually found herself being questioned about herself, her life in England, and her job. She answered his every query, wondering at his interest while at the same time conscious of his changed manner, of the unmistakable intimacy which had sprung up between them.

  ‘So you live quite alone, in this flat you speak of?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘It must become monotonous at times?’

  ‘Only when I’m not working.’

  ‘You have periods when you don’t work?

  ‘Sometimes there are no pictures to restore, she explained. ‘And then I’m idle, waiting for something to turn up. This doesn’t happen very often, though. ’

  ‘I see.’ He became thoughtful and for a while they proceeded in silence, making for the Palacio, that stately senhorial mansion, its outline standing clearly visible above the shrubbery that marked the dividing line between the Great Park and the formal gardens that surrounded the house. ‘So if you left England no one would miss you.’ The words were spoken so softly that Laura only just caught them. But she did catch them, and her heart seemed to jerk from its moorings. She wanted to speak, to ask him what he meant, but she could not find the right words. The Conde spoke again, but this time she failed to catch even anything except the short phrase, ‘not possible’.

  Not possible ... What did that mean? She looked up, to find him deep in thought, to see that his fine lips were compressed, and that his jawline was flexed.

  ‘Senhorita,’ he was saying when eventually they neared the house, ‘thank you very much for the most pleasant stroll.’

  ‘Thank you, Dom Duarte,’ she returned with a spontaneous smile. ‘It was lovely! ’

  ‘Yes.’ The brief word was spoken mechanically. ‘Er—I’m afraid I shan’t be dining at home this evening senhorita. So perhaps you will arrange for your dinner to be brought up to your room? See Teresa about it.’

  ‘Yes, senhor .’ Her voice failed, because he was already walking away, and because she had, with sudden enlightenment, realised just what he meant when he uttered those two words, ‘... not possible.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  That the Conde had come to regard her in a very different light from that of a girl who could do him a service by restoring his paintings was abundantly clear to Laura; that he had realised that a more intimate relationship was out of the question was also abundantly clear.

  ‘He likes me—he knows he could love me, but the social gulf precludes marriage between us.’ Tears filled Laura’s eyes; absurdly she wished he would lose all his money, and even his position, and come down to her level.

  ‘Dona Eduarda is coming to Torassa again,’ Teresa was telling Laura a few days later. ‘I wonder if they will become engaged to be married. ’

  Laura knew the colour was fading from her cheeks as she responded,

  ‘Perhaps they will, Teresa. They—they are eminently suited to one another. ’

  ‘Well ...’ The girl hesitated, a slight frown creasing her high forehead. ‘For me, senhorita, I prefer to be very much in love with my husband.’ A happy smile accompanied Teresa’s pronouncement and Laura gave a deep, dejected sigh. ‘But for the Conde,’ went on Teresa, ‘it is necessary that he marries a lady of his own class, and, as you say, Dona Eduarda is therefore quite suitable as his wife.’<
br />
  Laura, who had been working all the morning in the Gallery, went off into town to do some shopping. Marianna was fully recovered, and able to resume her duties as a nanny to Clara so Teresa was as usual there to attend to anything which Laura should require in the way of meals in her room, or the collection of her soiled linen, which she took to the Palacio laundry, and brought back later, beautifully washed and ironed. Dom Duarte had dined with Laura once only since that walk in the Park, inviting her to join him a couple of evenings ago. Laura would have liked to refuse, knowing just how the Conde felt about her, but she could find no excuse for doing so. In any case, she found herself actually looking forward to the interlude of exquisite pain which a few hours with the Conde would give her.

  She wore the new outfit for her trip into town, finding pleasure in the wearing of such expensive clothes. Teresa had done her work well, as everything fitted to perfection.

  ‘Laura!’ The friendly voice of Melanie came to Laura as she stood looking in a shop window, and she turned eagerly, a swift smile of pleasure leaping to her lips. ‘Hello! We haven’t seen you for ages.’ Melanie, attractively attired in a lightweight trouser suit, looked Laura over appreciatively. ‘You haven’t taken advantage of your open invitation. You could have come any time, you know that.’

  ‘Yes, I know. As a matter of fact, I’ve been rather busy lately. Marianna was ill and I was looking after Clara for a few days. Then I began to explore the island, with Teresa at times, and by myself at others.’ Melanie nodded understandingly.

  ‘Life’s a rush on occasions, even here, on Torassa.’

  ‘Well,’ submitted Laura with all honesty, ‘I haven’t exactly been rushing around. I'm working mornings only at present, so have my afternoons free, and that’s why I’ve been able to do some exploring. ’

  ‘Mornings only?’ Melanie said in surprise. ‘How is that?’

  ‘Dom Duarte said I mustn’t work too hard.’

  Melanie’s eyebrows shot up.