She lifted a hand. “A little of it is inevitable, but,” with a light smile, “I won’t let it go deep. There’s one thing you haven’t covered. You’re the best-known man on San Palos and for two or three weeks I shall be paired with you in people’s minds. After that, you can go off and scout round for your Spanish girl; and what shall I be permitted to do—stay on the island and take up nursing? Wouldn’t that rather cramp your style?”
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes.” He seemed to have changed position, so that the lights of the house were behind him and the planes of his face were obscured by shadow. Quite gently, he touched her arm. “It would help no end if you’d try to get into holiday mood and find fun in the situation. I promise you I’ll tone things down whenever I can, but there is the matter of this ring.” It glinted in the palm of his left hand, and as she jerked back from it he said, “It’s a dress ring that Dona Inez used to wear when she was young; it never belonged to my mother. I want you to take care of it and slip it on whenever you go in to see Dona Inez.”
She moistened her lower lip. Then with a show of nonchalance she took the ring, looked at it for a moment and dropped it into the wide triangular pocket of her skirt. “Very well, Marcus. After all, if one’s playing a part one may as well do it properly. I’m sure your former fiancée could have managed this role more successfully, but I’ll never let it be said that I didn’t give it a good try.”
He didn’t like that, but she hadn’t meant him to. The hand on her arm was less gentle as it moved up to clasp her elbow. “Let’s go in. Carlos will have arrived for dinner and your mother is bound to be sentimental. No wisecracks, if you don't mind!”
Momentarily, Sally wondered if she’d imagined that faint movement in the balcony above. They were bound to be watched, though; she would have to get used to it.
* * *
The following few days put Sally into a strangely bemused state from which even her mother’s pertinent questions only partially roused her. Perhaps the fact that life at Las Vinas followed a somewhat conventional pattern contributed to her static frame of mind. Every morning started the same: coffee and crisp golden twists of bread with balls of yellow butter and delicate silver shells filled with marmalade and honey, all served in her bedroom on a silver tray garnished with a single spray of lilac—this being the white and lilac bedroom, she supposed. Viola said that on different mornings she’d had cornflowers, delphinium and scabious on her breakfast tray; because her room was blue and white, no doubt.
Lunch was eaten at the table in the courtyard, tea could be served wherever one wanted it, and dinner, a seven-course meal accompanied by wines, was always served in ceremonial fashion in the dining room which was pleasingly furnished in seventeenth-century Spanish provincial style.
The sala, a long room which looked into the cloisters and was really rather grand, with its portraits and landscapes and inlaid tables and damask chairs, seemed to be used only in the evening, for cocktails before dinner and coffee after it. There was usually a guest or two for dinner.
Sally found herself drawn quite smoothly into the set-up. After the first day or so she accepted felicitations with a calm smile. Marcus saw to it that she was not called upon to converse at length with any one person, and through his debonair and ever-present care Sally had surprisingly little to contend with. Privately she wondered if he trusted her, and almost decided that he didn’t.
In the matter of Dona Inez, for instance. He had told Sally she would probably have to see the old senora alone, but after reflection had obviously concluded it might be dangerous. So every morning at ten-thirty he went with Sally into that large beautiful bedroom, and there he talked just enough to prevent Sally from talking at all, and fifteen minutes later he would insist that they had been long enough in the room. Dona Inez would protest and he would lift an eyebrow and say carelessly, “There’s plenty of time. We want you strong and well again before we start making plans.” His way of keeping a fiancée in view but managing to stay clear of consolidation was clever, of course. If that wily old woman his grandmother suspected anything, she was lulled by the sight of her own sparkling sapphire on Sally’s finger; Sally often saw that bright, piercing glance resting tranquilly on her left hand.
Viola, Sally was both amused and chagrined to discover, delightedly accepted the engagement as a sequel to her own warm friendship with Marcus on the “Bellesta.” Had she been younger he would have chosen herself, but in the circumstances he had done the next best thing, and Viola was the last person to be jealous of her own daughter. After all, so long as between them they brought Marcus and his money into the family, what did it matter? He was experienced and charming, very considerate and overwhelmingly anxious to take care of their future; and what good luck that he felt Sally would suit him as a wife!
“Just knowing that we have such a man to depend on has made my heart light as air,” she said, and added ingenuously, “I’m really most easily satisfied, you know. So long as I don’t have to worry about money and there’s a man in the family I’m the happiest person in the world.”
Sally decided not to comment upon this. If her mother decided to remain on San Palos more or less indefinitely she would always have Marcus in the background. And already she had been down to Naval Town and looked over the possibilities of starting some small business which could be run on little capital and plenty of feminine charm. Since leaving England she had improved so much in health and outlook that Sally felt her own problems to be negligible. They had come to the Mediterranean for Viola’s sake, and for Viola’s sake Sally would endure anything. And there was one thing of which Sally was very certain; after the disastrous business in Barcelona this island of San Palos must seem very like heaven to her mother.
Sally found it easy to be friendly with Dr. Carlos Suarez. He was the dedicated type and peculiarly suited to the rather unconventional ways of the island. It was on her fourth day, just after he had seen Dona Inez and pronounced her quite remarkably improved, that he paused in the courtyard to speak to Sally, who sat there with an unread book open on her lap.
“Good morning,” he said, in his polite smiling tones. “You are again admiring the view?”
She closed her book and placed it on the table. “I shall have to give it up; it’s like a drug. The trouble is, I’ve so little to do.”
“Marcus will surely find interests for you; and as you know, I shall be most pleased to conduct you through our little hospital.”
“I’d be so glad if you would,” she said. “You see, I was doing nursing just before we left England, and it would be wonderful to start working again.”
Carlos, thin and dark and looking a little more than his forty years, smiled incredulously. “But that is splendid! The hospital needs such a patroness—one who understands how such a place is conducted, and the problems of the staff.” He hesitated. “Are you free until lunch-time?”
“You mean may I go with you now? I’d love it.”
“Then come. It will make me most happy to introduce you to everyone!”
“But not as a patroness, please,” she said, as she moved at his side. “Just tell everyone that I’m a second-year nurse and would love to work with them.”
“I am afraid it is already known that you are the fiancée of Marcus Durant, but they will be pleased to learn that you chose to be a nurse.” He almost stopped as he asked, “You do not wish to advise your mother of where you are going?”
“She’s out with Marcus. They’re having a sort of meeting with the man who owns the department store in Naval Town.”
“Captain Northwick?”
“Is that his name? Is he a naval man too?”
“Retired, but he likes the naval atmosphere.” Carlos opened the door of his modest black car and saw Sally seated before getting behind the wheel. “You have acted as a splendid tonic upon Dona Inez. Do you know that?”
“Yes.”
“A week ago she could hardly speak, but this morning it wa
s difficult to keep her quiet. Already she is impatient to get up for a little while each day.”
“Is she fit enough?”
“Yes, but I shall not allow it yet. Katarina has instructions about gentle massage of the legs.” He smiled at her as they drove off. “Until you are married to Marcus and in a position to make rules in the house, you will not be permitted to help in the nursing of Dona Inez. Katarina is very jealous of her rights and privileges, and I must say she has shown the utmost care and devotion. Even as the wife of Marcus you will have difficulty in supplanting Katarina.”
“I wouldn’t try.” She changed the subject. “Since I arrived I haven’t left Las Vinas. You must explain things to me as we drive.”
For part of the way they were on the road by which Sally had come to Las Vinas. She saw the orderly acres of vine-laden pergolas, the little houses with their fruit trees and vegetable gardens, and more vines, with here and there an ancient fig or olive left standing. Rest-trees, the islanders called them, and Carlos slowed so that by looking through an avenue of grapevines Sally could see baskets of food and rolled jackets in the shade of one of them.
They came down almost to coast level, and here the houses were more numerous, their gardens more spectacular. They had left the road to the harbor and were winding through a long village, at the end of which, hidden except for its bell-tower and part of a curly pink-tiled roof, stood the Casa de Curacion.
“This is the name it was given two hundred years ago, when a few members of a sisterhood began their work in a wooden house on the site. The house of healing has now become an important part of the island,” said Carlos. “The building you will see as we go along the drive is the main nursing home. To the right there is a new block which was built at the expense of the naval authorities for their staff and families. I will take you there first.”
The following hour was the most satisfying Sally had spent since arriving on the island. She toured the little modern building and enjoyed the usual jokes with one or two of the nurses, went on with Carlos to the main building, which was ornate in architecture but clinically perfect. The Sisters moved swiftly along the corridors in their blue and white habits, smiled at Carlos and shook Sally’s hand with hearty firmness. Sally saw the patients only from doorways; all were islanders. Except one.
They saw him in the wide sheltered veranda as they came out of the building by the front entrance. He wore black trousers and a flowing silk shirt and a very white bandage about his head. Above the bandage were thick, glossy black curls and below it a pair of laughing dark eyes enlivened by a sallow handsome face. He was about twenty-eight, patently bored and apparently friendly with Carlos, for he straightened from his lounging position near one of the fluted white pillars and moved towards them as they stopped in the veranda. Sally felt the young man’s bold, raking glance upon her as he bowed before speaking to the doctor.
“Pardon, please ... have you spoken to him yet, Carlos?”
Carlos frowned and shook his head. “I have not seen him today.” And then, correctly, “Permit me. This is Josef Carvallo ... Miss Sheppard, who is the fiancée of Marcus.”
The change in the young man’s expression was swift and startling. He gave Sally a long, brilliant stare, bowed again and bore her hand to his lips; and he wasn’t in a hurry to release the hand either.
Earnestly he said, “You are staying at Las Vinas, senorita?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then perhaps you could do for me this thing that Carlos is too busy to do.”
The doctor said, “It isn’t necessary to bother the senorita, Josef. I will see Marcus as soon as possible.”
“But Senorita Sheppard will see him sooner, no?”
Before Sally could make a reply fate took a hand. A Sister called the doctor urgently, from the doorway, and Carlos excused himself and begged that Sally would sit in the car till he could join her. She smiled at the young man as though in farewell, but very gently, very politely, he laid a hand on her arm to detain her.
“I will not keep you long,” he said. “As you see, I have had an accident. It is not serious—a gash which had to be stitched—but I cannot leave the hospital because I have no home here.” He paused, and the shining dark glance rested once more on her fair young face. “In a very distant way, through my mother, I am related to Marcus, though not to Carlos. I am anxious to see Marcus—can you arrange that for me?”
“I can mention it to him,” she said. “How did you hurt your head?”
His smile was mournful and mischievous. “In a brawl, I am afraid. It was at the hotel last night, only a few minutes after I had arrived in San Palos. I had a small disagreement with someone and he was a heavier man than I. I woke up early this morning in a ward here, and for breakfast I had pain in the head and a strong lecture from Carlos. You see, I am the black sheep of two or three families.”
She had to smile back at him. “Does that make you very black?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” His frank disturbing gaze again settled upon Sally. “You are really the fiancée of Marcus? I cannot believe it.”
“Why not?” she asked carefully.
He shrugged. “You are not his kind of woman. You are just a girl, and I would say you should marry someone young and gay and very ardent. You yourself are young, but you are sober because of this engagement which demands too much of you.”
She wondered if he really saw a little way below the surface or whether it was a line he had decided upon. She said calmly, “You’re presuming to know too much on so short an acquaintance, Senor Carvallo. I’ll tell Marcus you want to see him.”
“Please do not go,” he begged. “I had no wish to offend you. If I do not see you as a suitable wife for Marcus you must blame my faulty powers of deduction. Marcus is a most fortunate man, but then in everything he has always been fortunate. I,” with a pathetic brush of the hand over his bandage, “have always been the victim of atrocious luck.”
“I think it’s possible that you go out of your way to attract it,” she said. “Don’t you live on San Palos?”
He shook his head ruefully. “I live nowhere. I have been everywhere, even to your cold England, but I cannot settle. In that mood, I am happiest here on San Palos.”
“Do you always stay at the hotel?”
His smile was conspiratorial. “I start there, always. Then I meet Marcus and he invites me to Las Vinas. That is what I am hoping for now—even more,” with a kindling in his eyes, “since I have met you.”
“Marcus may not want more guests. His grandmother has been seriously ill.”
“But I am no trouble,” he declared warmly, “and I adore Dona Inez as if she were my own grandmother.” Almost boyishly he tacked on, “She likes me, you know. There is always a little fondness in old people for black sheep.”
Sally found herself laughing against her will. “You’d better keep the bandage round your head until you’ve seen Marcus. It may soften him.”
“Could you not permit me to go back with you now, for lunch?”
“No, but I promise I’ll tell him. And I think you’d better sit down. You probably lost some blood—you’re pale.”
“You think I look ill?” he asked urgently. “Perhaps I can depend on you to approach Marcus for me—ask that he will allow me to spend a few more days of convalescence at Las Vinas?”
“I’ll mention it to Marcus. And now, please sit down. I’m going to the doctor’s car.”
She gave him a distant nod and resolutely walked to the black saloon. For several minutes she sat looking ahead, at a bed of budding roses backed by giant oleanders. Then, almost without volition, she looked up at the veranda. Josef Carvallo was still there, leaning on the wall and staring down at her. He was ashen and the bandage made him look ill and somehow neglected. But his smile, when he caught her glance, was merry and companionable. He’d probably stood there willing her to look his way and felt mighty proud of himself when she’d done so! Crossly, she turned her head and look
ed down towards the gates. By the time Carlos arrived, full of apologies, she was able to convince herself that the young man on the veranda was just an attractive cad.
As it happened, Carlos confirmed this conclusion. “Josef has been coming to San Palos since he was a schoolboy,” he told Sally. “At first it was to Las Vinas, for holidays, and then he would arrive whenever he felt inclined. Two years ago he came to settle; he worked as a superintendent throughout the harvest and winemaking, but as soon as the wine fiesta was over he went away again, after wrecking a betrothal between two members of good families here; he bewitched the girl and she would not marry.”
“Good heavens. What happened to her?”
“She teaches at a convent. Josef came back last year and the girl would not even look at him, which proves,” with a quiet laugh, “that his influence is not lasting. Perhaps that girl will yet marry her former fiancé.”
“How does he live—Josef?”
“He has a small allowance, and to supplement it he works occasionally. I believe that among other things he has been a journalist, a painter of ceramics and a hack violinist.”
“Sounds a little as if he were creative. Can’t he be helped in some way?”
Carlos shrugged. “Marcus has helped him many times, and you cannot wonder that he has grown impatient. Josef is ungrateful and without regrets. He comes now to San Palos because he is penniless and wants a new start.”
“And he begins by getting into a fight,” she said. “He doesn’t look at all well, does he?”
“He has been taking no care of himself,” said Carlos with a sigh. “For a very few years the body can tolerate an amount of wild living, but there arrives a time when a man must come to his senses and slow down. In years, Josef is young; but physically he is much older. Even last year his general condition was much sounder than it is now. It is time that one took him in hand. Only Marcus is capable of it, and after the wrecking of that engagement he said he would do no more for Josef.”
“You said that was two years ago. What happened last year?”
Perchance to Marry Page 6
