Isle of Desire

by Anne Hampson

  ‘He did? Anxious about you, it would appear.’

  Laura had thought so at the time he had told her she must cut down her hours. Now, however, she wondered if he were only being practical, on the assumption that she would obviously work better in the cooler part of the day, and at a time when she was fresh, and her mind alert after a night’s sleep.

  ‘Are you alone?’ she inquired of Melanie, automatically glancing around to see if Pedro was anywhere about.

  ‘Yes; Pedro never comes to town if he can help it.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful little town, though.’ Laura had already decided it was the prettiest town she had ever seen, or ever would see. Over the main thoroughfare flowering trees met, and half way along this street was a picturesque bridge spanning a swiftly-flowing river, along the banks of which grew exotic flowers in a gay profusion of delightful colour.

  ‘Yes, I agree,’ returned Melanie. ‘And it’s quite surprising that one can buy almost anything one requires.’ She glanced at Laura’s outfit. ‘Did you buy those here?’ Laura went red and turned away.

  ‘They did come from one of these shops, I believe.’ Melanie stared in some bewilderment but tactfully refrained from asking questions. Relieved, Laura asked if Melanie had time to spare for afternoon tea.

  ‘I always have time,’ answered Melanie with a laugh. ‘And it’ll be nice to have company for a change.’ There was an odd inflection in her voice as she added, ‘I’ve been wanting to have a little talk with you, as a matter of fact, and that’s why I hoped you’d come along and see us.’

  They entered the teashop and ordered tea and cakes. Laura waited for Melanie to speak, curious to know what she had to tell her.

  ‘I had a letter from Rex last week,’ began Melanie. ‘He was wondering why you hadn’t written in answer to his last letter.’ Laura coloured slightly. She had received three letters altogether from Rex, but had answered only two, since the third one was far more friendly than she liked. Rex in fact had written what could almost be termed a love-letter. And so she had put off answering it, not wanting to hurt his feelings while at the same time wondering how she could reply without injecting a coolness into her letter that would act as a rebuff and ensure his not writing in that particular vein again.

  ‘I’ve been rather busy,’ she answered lamely at last.

  ‘He likes you a lot, Laura.’ Melanie idly took up her serviette and shook it out before placing it on her knee. ‘I've never known him show so much interest in a girl before.’

  ‘I’m not intending to have a boy-friend just yet.’

  ‘I see ...’ Melanie looked at Laura across the table. ‘He’s a hard-working, decent young man, Laura.’

  ‘I don’t doubt that for one moment,’ returned Laura swiftly. ‘It’s just that I myself am not ready to have a boy-friend.’ ‘Don’t you want to get married, then?’

  Laura thought of the Conde and those two words he had uttered, words that had meant so much, that had brought Laura down from the happy heights to which she had risen during the stroll they had had in the grounds of the Palacio. The Conde, she knew, had come very close to caring for her, but had pulled himself up in time, profoundly conscious of the difference in their positions. The noble Conde Duarte Andre Volante de Taviro Mauredo could never marry a penniless English girl without rank or background.

  ‘I certainly don’t want to marry yet—not for a long time, in fact.’ Long time? Would she ever be able to fall in love again? wondered Laura, a terrible dejection engulfing her. She felt she would always be comparing any man she met with the Conde, and finding him sadly wanting. For the Conde was superlative among men and, having met and fallen in love with him, Laura could not for the life of her imagine any other man taking his place in her heart.

  ‘Children,’ murmured Melanie in a questioning tone, ‘should come along fairly early in a woman’s life.’

  ‘I might never have children,’ returned Laura in a resigned voice.

  The tea and cakes arrived, much to Laura’s relief. The conversation was not one she wanted to pursue. Melanie poured the tea, and the two girls chatted about the forthcoming marriage of Teresa and Martim, for a wedding on Torassa was always an event which interested everyone on the island. Later, they separated, Melanie to go to the market and Laura to the chemist and the small department store where she hoped to buy a present for Avice whose birthday was a fortnight hence.

  ‘Do come and visit us,’ pressed Melanie. ‘We really do want you to come.’

  ‘I will come,’ promised Laura. ‘Perhaps on Sunday afternoon. ’

  ‘We’ll look forward to that,’ smiled Melanie. ‘Please don’t disappoint us.’ She went off, and Laura made her way along the

  street to the chemist’s shop, her thoughts on what Melanie had said about Rex. Laura had already told herself that Rex was within her reach; she knew he would be a faithful and reliable husband.

  ‘But not for me,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘I’m sure I’ll never forget Dom Duarte sufficiently to marry anyone else.’ Dona Eduarda was dining with the Conde. Laura had not been invited to join them and she sat on the balcony of her room and ate the meal which Teresa had brought up for her. She was undecided about staying on to finish all the paintings. Those which she had already started must be finished, of course, but she felt she would not touch any of the others. Far wiser to leave as soon as was possible. She thought of what Teresa had said about the two becoming engaged, and pictured herself being here at the time when they were married. It was unthinkable! Laura felt she would not be able to bear it when, after the honeymoon, they returned to the Palacio and Dona Eduarda took up her position as mistress of the delightful establishment. Moreover, as the Portuguese girl so disliked Laura, it was reasonable to assume that she would make life more than a little uncomfortable for her. No, it was not wise to remain any longer than she must, decided Laura eventually, and the following morning she lost no time in seeking out the Conde and informing him of her decision.

  ‘Leaving?’ he repeated with a frown. ‘Without finishing the job you came here to do?’ He stared questioningly at her. ‘Your reason, senhorita?’

  ‘I feel homesick,’ lied Laura, already having this excuse ready. ‘I’ll certainly finish those I’ve already started, as I’ve just said, but I don’t want to start any more.’

  The Conde, who was standing with his back to the window of his study, frowned more heavily at her, as she stood just inside the door, twisting her hands nervously together.

  ‘I’m completely at a loss,’ he said in that accented voice which Laura found so attractive, ‘as to why you have so suddenly become homesick. You did say that you had no relatives in your country?’

  Laura nodded.

  ‘That’s correct,’ she answered.

  ‘In that case,’ returned Dom Duarte imperiously, ‘there is no valid reason for your wanting to leave me without carrying out the work which I assigned to you.’ His eyes were hard, his mouth set in an inflexibly line., ‘I expect you to stay,’ he said finally, and before she knew it Laura had said,

  ‘Very well, Dom Duarte,’ and found herself passing from his room into the wide corridor outside. She stood quite still, staring at the door she had just closed. Her heart was beating far too swiftly, her pulses were racing. She had gone in there with the firm intention of telling the Conde that she could not stay much longer at the Palacio; she had emerged without having succeeded .... but why? Dom Duarte could not force her to stay; she had a will of her own and she knew how to use it.

  ‘There was something,’ she murmured, moving away from the door in case he should open it and see her there. ‘Yes, there was something ... which I could not understand. ’ His eyes had been hard ... yet not unkindly so. His mouth had been firm ... and yet she now realised that, subconsciously, she had expected it to relax in a smile. His voice was authoritative, imperious ... and yet, thinking about it now, Laura sensed an underlying quality of softness which he had deliberately tried to conceal. Di
d he love her? Certainly he felt something for her; she had already reached this conclusion. But he would never allow his emotions to triumph over his common sense. This conclusion had also been reached by Laura.

  She went out into the garden, her mind so confused that she knew she could not find the necessary concentration to work on the pictures. So many conflicting thoughts and ideas flitted about in her mind, not least of which was the question: why did not the Conde welcome her decision to leave the Palacio? Surely her continued presence here must be upsetting him—if, of course, Laura’s assumptions were correct and he did feel something for her. Better for his peace of mind if she were no longer living in his home.

  She wandered on, into the Park, seeking the solitude she knew she would find there. But this was not to last long, for within a few minutes she heard the sound of hooves and, turning her head, she saw Dona Eduarda coming towards her. She was riding Ludran, but dismounted as she came alongside Laura.

  ‘I thought you worked during the mornings?’ were her first words, spoken with an almost virulent inflection. ‘Does Dom Duarte know you’re out here at this time?’

  ‘No,’ answered Laura stiffly, ‘he doesn’t.’

  ‘Then why are you?’ demanded Dona Eduarda arrogantly. ‘If you don’t get on with that work you’re going to be here for ever. ’

  Laura coloured hotly, with temper. This was the kind of treatment she would receive when once this girl was established here as the mistress of the Palacio de Mauredo. However, she was not married to the Conde yet, therefore it was none of her business whether Laura was working in the Gallery or not.

  ‘I fail to see what that has to do with you,’ she returned, meeting the dark and narrowed eyes unflinchingly. ‘You are not my employer, Dona Eduarda. ’

  ‘You’re insolent!’ The narrowed eyes became mere slits. Laura had the incredible impression that the Portuguese girl was jealous of her. ‘I might as well tell you, Miss Conroy, that if I were your employer I’d have dismissed you long before now! You’ re lazy! ’

  Lazy ... Laura felt herself becoming inflamed, a most unusual experience for her, normally being so placid and good-tempered.

  ‘You’ve just accused me of insolence,’ she flashed, ‘but it is you who are insolent!’

  The girl drew a deep breath, making a sort of hissing sound. However, she had regained her self-composure by the time she spoke.

  ‘It is beneath my dignity to bandy words with a mere servant,’ she said, turning to mount the horse. ‘I shall inform Dom Duarte that you are not working. I expect he will know how to deal with you. ’

  Laura watched her ride away, her whole body quivering with anger. How dared the girl speak to her like that! And to call her a servant! Dom Duarte himself had never done so; in fact, he was most emphatic that she was not a servant.

  A quarter of an hour later Laura was walking across the lawn towards the Palacio when she saw Dona Eduarda and the Conde in conversation. They were standing on the front patio and neither of them noticed Laura. She made a diversion, taking a path round the side of the house, so when the Conde came up to the Gallery about ten minutes later Laura was in her blue nylon overall, a paintbrush in her hand.

  ‘Ah, so you’re busy, senhorita.’

  She turned slowly, her lovely eyes examining his face for any sign of anger. She saw only an expressionless mask, but did note the tightness of his clenched fists. Laura spoke stiffly, her eyes still fixed upon his face. ‘I’ve only just started, as you are aware, Dom Duarte. So I shall work during the afternoon to make up.’

  The Conde frowned at her.

  ‘I believe I expressed the wish that you should not work during the afternoons,’ he said.

  ‘But I’ve only just started,’ she repeated. And then, when he did not speak, she added defiantly, ‘I expect Dona Eduarda told you that I was uncivil to her! Well, senhor, I am now telling you that I don’t regret it! Please say what you have to say, but keep that in mind. I do not regret it!’

  The Conde’s eyes widened a little.

  ‘Dona Eduarda was obviously uncivil to you, senhorita?'

  ‘She was!’

  ‘And what do you expect me to say to you—er—keeping in mind, as you instruct me to, that you do not regret being uncivil to Dona Eduarda?’

  Laura looked bewilderingly at him, fully aware that there was no anger directed towards herself, and yet it did seem that anger lurked beneath the rather mild manner he was adopting. Incredibly, Laura had the idea that his anger was for Dona Eduarda! ‘I expect I was prepared for some censure from you,’ she told him perplexedly, ‘but you are not angry with me, apparently?’

  ‘Censure, eh? For not starting work on time, or for your incivility towards Dona Eduarda?’

  Laura shrugged helplessly.

  ‘You puzzle me, Dom Duarte,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, senhorita,’ he returned much to her surprise, ‘I expect I do,’ and he added before she could speak, ‘I am not thinking of censuring you. The work here will be done eventually and, as I told you at first, there is no particular hurry. ’ He paused a moment, his grey eyes regarding her with the most odd expression. Laura, the paintbrush still idle in her hand, wondered if it were her imagination, or if Dom Duarte’s voice had carried a strange inflection when he had uttered the words, ‘... no particular hurry’. He spoke again, surprising her still further by saying, ‘I am not intending to censure you for anything you said to Dona Eduarda. I feel you had some cause, senhorita.’ The Conde paused, faintly amused by Laura’s bewildered expression. ‘Retaliation is often permissible,’ he continued presently, ‘if only because it is a natural instinct. ’

  So he knew more than he had revealed about Dona Eduarda’s treatment of her, decided Laura, and her heart became light, her pulse behaving in the most unfamiliar way. She was aware of the colour fluctuating in her cheeks, of the fact that the smile on her lips would have affected her eyes. The Conde was looking into them, his own lips curved in a half-smile. She spoke, hesitantly and rather shyly.

  ‘You are obviously more understanding than I ever imagined, senhor.’

  His smile deepened.

  ‘You’re becoming braver, senhorita,' he said in some amusement. ‘At one time you would not have had the temerity to speak to me like that.’

  Laura gave a little laugh, much to her own surprise. ‘You don’t resent it, obviously.’

  A small silence followed and Laura began to wonder if she

  had gone too far, adopting this familiarity with him. Yet he himself had started it by discarding that austere manner to which she was used. He had been human enough to understand just how she felt regarding Dona Eduarda; he had smiled at her in a way that encouraged a venturesome response. And what of his expression at this moment? So soft ... almost tender, that look in his eyes ...

  ‘No,’ he was saying quietly, ‘I do not resent it.’

  Laura glanced away, deeply affected by this dramatic change in him. She tried not to hazard a guess as to what it might mean, and yet her heart was racing, and unfamiliar vibrations rippled through her body. Memory brought back many occasions when his manner had puzzled her, when he had looked at her with admiration in his cool grey eyes. She looked at him, unconsciously imploring him to say something that would give her a lead as to his inner feelings, and what this attitude he was adopting towards her really meant. But when presently he did break the silence it was merely to say,

  ‘I shall leave you to your task, senhorita. Remember, you do not work after lunch.’

  She watched his tall aristocratic figure as he strode the length of the Gallery, noting the broad shoulders and narrow hips, the light athletic gait, the total silence of his footsteps on the thickly carpeted floor. A truly magnificent personage, this lord of the manor and virtual ruler of the island of Torassa.

  Laura turned to her work, but her mind was on what had just transpired between the Conde and herself. She had expected to feel his anger, to be told coldly that she must not treat his
guest with disrespect. Instead she had been told by the Conde that she had merely followed a natural instinct in retaliating to Dona Eduarda’s own rudeness. How could he have guessed that the girl had been rude? wondered Laura, then immediately told herself that the Conde was no fool. His powers of perception were strong, she felt sure, and in any case, her own angry assertion that she did not regret her incivility would have been enough to give him a clue.

  Feeling as she did, with her mind confused by the Conde’s changed manner, Laura was by no means sorry when lunch time arrived and she was able to finish her work for the day. It was too difficult to concentrate, and she could only hope she would feel differently tomorrow.

  Teresa brought her lunch up to her room, and Laura ate it on the verandah, in the sunshine, and with the delightful views of the Palacio gardens rolling away to the Great Park beyond. Gay parakeets noisily flew from tree to tree; brightly-coloured butterflies sought for nectar in the exotic blooms which grew in such profusion along the borders and on the parterres; the water-fowl on the lake added more colour by the brilliance of their plumage, as did the high fountain with its rainbow hues stolen from the sun.

  A deep sigh escaped Laura as for some reason she could not dispel the picture of Dona Eduarda becoming mistress here. That there was little or no love between her and Dom Duarte was obvious to anyone with any intelligence at all, but would that matter so long as there was produced an heir to all this, and to the island of Torassa? Laura then thought of her own reaction to the Conde’s very attractive mood of that morning. She had known a warmth, and an upsurge of the love she felt for him. Yearning had been strong within her and she now wondered if this had been reflected in her eyes. Still, the Conde would not have known what her expression meant. Keen as were his powers of perception were he could never have guessed that she was in love with him. No, for she had managed very well indeed to hide her feelings.

  When Teresa came to clear away after Laura had had her to lunch, the girl informed her that Dona Eduarda was leaving the Palacio later that afternoon.