Flower for a Bride

by Barbara Rowan

  Lois felt an angry color burn her cheeks, and she bit her lip rather hard.

  “You seem to forget, senhor,” she reminded him, “that the ‘casual invitation’ comes from a friend of a very close friend of yours—a Portuguese lady whom I imagine you esteem highly! And when she informed you the other night that she proposed to find ‘escorts’ for me you didn’t appear to have any strong objections to raise! Yet now you accuse me of behaving in rather a doubtful manner!”

  She looked at him with so much unconcealed resentment in her face that he frowned, and then protested sharply:

  “I haven’t accused you of behaving in a doubtful manner! I have accused you of nothing beyond accepting an invitation to dine with a man after you had known him at the outside for no more than a couple of hours!”

  “And is that a crime?”

  “Of course it isn't. But in Portugal, as I have explained, our girls do not do that sort of thing.”

  “Then why did you not point out to Donna Colares that

  her suggestions were unorthodox to say the least? Why did you permit me to go to tea at her parents’ house on Sunday in order to meet two men whom she specifically named?”

  “And apparently you met them both?” he said, as if he were attempting to subdue annoyance as keen as her own.

  “I met Mr. Enderby, and I met Donna Colare’s brother just as I was leaving. But he explained that his sister’s selections in the way of girl friends for him did not always meet with his taste, and he kept out of the way until I was leaving for that very reason. I can’t say that I blamed him,” she added, Dom Julyan’s eyebrows rose.

  "Why not?”

  “Well, you can hardly expect a young man of spirit to do just as his sister tells him, can you? Any more than I liked the idea of having someone more or less forced to pay me attention.”

  He looked at her for a long moment with a curiously penetrating, and rather uncertain regard, and then he walked away to the window and stood once more looking out at the garden.

  “Yet you quite obviously got on very well with Enderby,” he remarked, after several long-drawn-out seconds of silence.

  Lois said nothing.

  Suddenly he turned and looked at her again.

  “Just tell me one thing,” he requested. “Do you wish to have dinner with this man who paints pictures?”

  Lois shrugged slightly, but she felt a little indignant on Rick’s behalf.

  “The fact that he paints pictures has nothing whatever to do with it,” she answered. “And the fact that he invited me to dinner hasn’t very much to do with me. I imagine he asked me because Donna Colares made it clear that she wished him to do so.”

  For the first time a gleam of humor lightened Dom Julyan’s expression, and the corners of his handsome mouth quirked upwards a little.

  “Do you honestly believe that?” he asked.

  The way in which he looked at her caused Lois to grow pink for another reason altogether, and she glanced away from his dark eyes hurriedly, and replied this time in a certain amount of confusion.

  “I—I don’t know at all why he asked me . . . except that we’re both English, and perhaps that’s a sort of a bond. And, in any case, I found him very pleasant,” she felt that she had to add in all truthfulness.

  “Indeed?” Dom Julyan murmured.

  “But I explained that I couldn’t accept an invitation until I had been given to understand that it was convenient for me to have the free time,” looking at him more boldly. “That’s why Mr. Enderby decided that it would be best to ring you himself.”

  “I see,” her employer remarked, but his lips curved a little cynically. “All very correct and out in the open, and so forth!”

  “You have just been pointing out that as a young unmarried woman no longer living in England, but in Portugal, I should be careful to behave with the utmost correctness,” she reminded him with just a hint of smugness.

  Once again he turned away and walked to the window, and once again she could almost feel him frowning out at the view.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” he said to her at last, without turning. “Will it brighten your life very much to be taken out to dinner and to spend the evening in the company of a man you hardly know? Do you find life here very dull, and are you conscious of being restricted? Is it very boring?”

  “It is not in the least boring,” she assured him, with the ring of truth in her voice. “But surely I may be permitted to meet someone else sometimes—apart from the occupants of this house, I mean?”

  “You may,” he answered, almost curtly, “and I have told Enderby that he can collect you at the hour he proposes tomorrow evening. But there is just one other point I would like to raise with you.” “Y—yes?” she enquired, as his back remained rigid, and she had the feeling that he was still not too pleased with her.

  “No doubt your days are a little dull here. You see no one apart from Jamie, the servants and Miss Mattie in the daytime, and in the evenings the monotony is hardly broken by your dining with Miss Mattie in her own quarters. On the first night you were here I suggested that you had all your meals in the main dining room, but Miss Mattie informed me that you would prefer to take your evening meal with her. Naturally, as you had expressed a particular desire for doing so, I agreed that you should do so, and that at present is the arrangement. But you have only to meet Rick Enderby for a very short while to feel it would be pleasant to dine with him—alone!—while my society in the evenings is quite obviously not to your taste.” Lois stared back at him—or his back, rather—not at first gathering the full import of his words; and then, when she did, she felt herself flushing wildly, and growing agitated. At the same time she also felt

  once more just a little indignant.

  “But is that so difficult to understand?” she asked, and he turned and regarded her narrowly. Her eyes stared at him, soft and confused, but determined to get this matter straight somehow. “You are my employer. ... On the only occasion I did dine with you I had the feeling that you were a little bored by—by the necessity of dining alone with me! After all, I am merely an employee—your son’s governess. . . . And there will be occasions when you have guests when neither they nor I would feel happy.”

  “Why not?” he enquired, in a stern, sharp voice. “Because”—she made a little helpless movement with her shoulders—“because, from the point of view of your guests, I am just an employee. And from my own point of view I haven’t the right sort of clothes.... I mean I haven’t enough clothes for evenings.”

  “You always look very well dressed to me,” he told her. She flashed him a look that was tinged with gratitude. “Nevertheless, senhor, I could hardly compare with your friends. And I’d feel happier if you wouldn’t insist upon my dining in the main dining room at night.”

  “Very well,” he replied, as if the matter was not after all of great importance. “We will not discuss that now, but I have something to discuss with you that concerns Jamie.” “Oh, yes?” Instantly she felt faintly apprehensive, trying to think of something else she had done which might have displeased him.

  “I have decided that a brief break in his daily routine will be good for him, and tomorrow I am taking him to Lisbon. We will have lunch, and there are one or two things I would like to show him, and we will be back in good time for your appointment in the evening.”

  “You mean that you will be back in good time for me to put him to bed, and see to his supper?”

  "No, Josie will do that. But you will want plenty of time to change, won’t you?”

  “Change? But, I—you mean that I am to come with you?”

  “But, of course,” he answered, one dark eyebrow ascending in mild surprise. “Naturally you will come with us!”

  Lois felt sure her eyes gave away the sudden swift pleasure she experienced. It had never occurred to her that he would think of taking her with him to Lisbon. ... An hour or more’s drive, the same journey home in the late afternoon, a cert
ain amount of sight-seeing sandwiched in between, and lunch— lunch in an hotel with Jamie as well as himself! The pleasure overspread her face like a warm glow from within.

  “Unless, of course,” he observed, in rather a drawling voice, “you feel that such an excursion might prove rather tiring, and you will not feel

  fresh enough for your evening? In that case--------------”

  "Oh, no, no!” she exclaimed, almost vehemently, looking shocked as well because her own concerns were nothing compared with the importance of carrying out her duties when she was fortunate enough to fill such a well-paid post. “I shall love to see Lisbon again—I had only a very brief glimpse of it when I arrived—and seeing it with Jamie will be lovely. I shall look forward to tomorrow.”

  “Because you will see Lisbon with Jamie?” She thought his mouth twisted with a touch of quizzicalness. “Well, at least I shall be in the happy position of driving you both, and you will have your evening as something else to look forward to! It should be a very satisfying day!”

  But although she wasn’t sure whether he was merely being sarcastic, or indulging in rather a queer sort of humor, Lois didn’t greatly care just then, for the thought of going to Lisbon—spending a whole day in his company, instead of catching occasional glimpses of him, and perhaps for once exchanging a few formal sentences with him during a very formal lunch—was disturbingly exciting. She went anxiously through her wardrobe when she got upstairs and decided that her ice-blue linen really suited her best, and was the most suitable outfit she possessed for such an excursion, particularly as it had a little jacket which she could take with her in case the day turned cool.

  But there was little fear of the day turning cool at that time of year in Portugal, and when she awoke the next morning she knew it was going to be an absolutely perfect day. She stood out on her balcony and watched the faint heat haze disappear as the sun’s rays absorbed it, felt as if her vision was actually assaulted by the blaze of color in the garden, and the emerald freshness of the lawns, and then went in to Jamie’s room to help him to dress. She selected one of his heavy white silk blouses, which were sometimes smocked and sometimes merely ornamented with an initial over the pocket by Miss Mattie’s nimble fingers, and did up the pearl buttons herself because Jamie’s fingers were fumbling with even greater excitement than her own.

  Jamie wasn’t often taken out by his father, and therefore this was a red-letter day. He would willingly have done without his breakfast of crisp rolls and preserve, and a very large beaker of milk in order to be outside and waiting on the drive when the blue car came purring softly round from the garage. When it did crunch to a standstill on the well-rolled gravel he was the first to clamber in beside his father, who was in the driving seat. Lois opened the rear door and prepared to isolate herself on the commodious back seat, but Dom Julyan looked round at her and smiled.

  "You’re neither of you very fat,” he said, “and I think we can all manage on the front seat, if you don’t mind a bit of a squeeze.”

  And Lois felt her heart leap absurdly because she was going to be that much nearer to him.

  But when she was seated beside Jamie, and the boy slid his hand into hers and gave it a hard, excited squeeze, Dom Julyan looked down at his son with an unmistakable frown between his well-marked black brows.

  “It was not very polite, Jamie,” he reproved him, “to leave Miss Lois standing on the drive while you shot into the car ahead of her. I hope you won’t ever do that sort of thing again, because it is most unbecoming in a gentleman.”

  Jamie flushed, and the flush became almost painful as he looked up at his father. Lois knew that Jamie adored his father, and any reproof from him was likely to spoil the whole of his day, for he was extremely sensitive. She herself understood that it was only his acute anxiety not to be left behind that had caused him to forget his manners and forget her also for a few moments, but quite obviously Dom Julyan was not pleased.

  “You will apologize to Miss Lois,” he insisted, “and ask her to overlook your rudeness. Assure her that such a thing shall not happen again.”

  “I’m sorry, Papa,” Jamie said as if he were completely unabashed, while that revealing tide of color stained even his little neck. Lois put her arm about him and hugged him against her, and he whispered to her as if he would much prefer to hide his face in her neck: “I’m sorry, Lois.”

  “Lois?” his father caught him up. “Have you become as familiar as all that with your governess? I do not recall that you ever referred to Miss Mattie as Mattie!”

  “I told him that it was unnecessary to be formal with me,” Lois defended her charge. “And so it is,” she added, as if Dom Julyan might be tempted to argue with her on the subject.

  But he smiled as if something about her method of supporting his offspring appealed to him, and rather disconcertingly the smile was directed straight into her eyes.

  There was only a foot or so of space between them, and the only thing that actually separated them was Jamie. But it seemed to her that in the night-dark depths between those thick and un-masculine eyelashes something flickered that bridged the tiny gulf between them, and she had the feeling that a caressing hand had been stretched out and that it had touched her and established electric contact with her.

  She looked away quickly before he could detect any confusion, or response to that imagined contact, in her own eyes.

  “Well, Lois is a charming name,” Dom Julyan murmured, “and for today I think that we might certainly dispense with formality. Today I shall call you Lois, too, if you have no objection?”

  “Objection?” Her heart actually knocked a little. “No, of course I haven’t any objection.” “Then, if you are sure that Jamie is not occupying more than his fair share of the seat”—tweaking his son’s small ear as he sat beside him— “and you are both quite comfortable, we will leave. There is no reason why we should hurry, but it is pleasant travelling in the cool of the day.”

  Lois lay back against the seat and thought that even in the heat of the day travelling anywhere with him was an experience she couldn’t bear to miss if she had the opportunity. But quite possibly she would never have another opportunity to travel anywhere with him, therefore much must be made of today.

  And then he said softly:

  “You are quite sure you are comfortable, Lois?” And as the cool wind sang past her ears, and the gay blue car with its long, sleek lines purred like a contented kitten as the speedometer started to swing wildly, she answered with a

  happy note in her voice: “Quite comfortable, senhor!” For only in her heart could he be Julyan.

  C H A P T ER T E N

  The whole of the day was perfect, unspoiled by anything, and Lois found Lisbon fascinating.

  Perhaps one of the most fascinating things about it was that as well as a capital it was a seaport, and even in the most salubrious and beautiful quarters the varinas, or fishwives, walked barefoot and straight-backed, balancing creels of fish on their heads, beneath the blue jacaranda trees. The most important shopping street, the Rua Garrett, climbed so steeply upwards that Lois felt quite dizzy when she turned to look over her shoulder, but the shop windows delighted her, because they displayed such a variety of goods. Amongst mouth-watering melons and grapes and peaches from Alcobaca there was every sort of preserve in jars, famous cosmetics manufactured in England, Havana cigars, as well as the things women love to gaze at all over the world.

  There was a good deal of noise from trams and knife-grinders, who seemed to ply such a flourishing trade that Lois was amazed. She was also amazed by the sight of colorfully-dressed gypsy women, as well as the varinas, who mingled with the more fashionably-clothed. in fact, on the whole, the color beneath the blue sky dazzled her a little, and although she hadn’t any sunglasses with her she almost thought they would have been restful.

  For lunch Dom Julyan took them to an hotel which, Lois discovered afterwards, was famous as an altar of gastronomy in Lisbon. It was in the high pa
rt of the town, islanded by bougainvillaea, which climbed vividly right up to its third-floor windows. Inside it was an oasis of coolness and shade, with thick carpets into which the feet melted as if melting into sand, dark carved wood furniture, mirrors and gilded ceilings. The dining room was sumptuous, and overlooked the garden. Dom Julyan was obviously very well known, and the attention they received would have been embarrassing if Lois had had to cope with it alone, but as it was she left everything— even the ordering of her own meal—to her employer, and he was so accustomed to deference that half a dozen eager waiters buzzing round him like flies left him completely unmoved.

  He recommended to Lois various dishes that were strictly Portuguese, but she requested him shyly to select whatever he thought she would like, and to do the same for Jamie. The latter displayed an excellent appetite, and although simple dishes were chosen for him he attacked them with vigor when they arrived. Lois found the food was so much more than delicious that she was not surprised to see Dom Julyan looking at her across the table as if he were looking for signs that he had ordered wisely, and with a portion of duck in front of her that was unlike any duck she had tasted before she assured him that he had.

  The wine that accompanied the meal was light and sparkling, and it wasn’t necessary to be a connoisseur of wines to deduce that it was of excellent quality. But, even so, Lois barely sipped at it, for she was very conscious of being still on duty, and she would have been just as happy with a long, cool drink such as Jamie had placed at his elbow.

  Dom Julyan twitted her on the lack of attention the paid to her wine-glass.

  “This is the country of wines,” he said, “and when you have been here long enough you will recognize that some of them are quite incomparable. Most of the lighter ones are quite innocuous, so you need have no fear of being overcome by the contents of that glass you are toying with.”