“Do we have to?”
“I think so. It’ll be a quarter to ten before we reach the hotel.”
“The hours have flown,” she lamented. “We don’t seem to have done anything.”
He was on his feet, giving her a hand. “Disappointed?” She was standing close to him, unconsciously steadying herself by gripping a fold of the twill bush shirt. Her head was turned toward the ocean.
“Only that the time has passed so quickly. Stephen,” her eyes shone up at him, “it’s been like ... like magic.”
“I’ll bring you here again,” he said, “in daylight.”
And then he kissed her, took her into his arms and found her soft lips with an aloof yet half-savage ferocity. A little roughly his hands closed over her shoulders and held her away.
“You prefer to have all the trimmings, don’t you?” he said into the dark. “It wouldn’t be a starlit coral island without that. Mind where you step.”
CHAPTER NINE
WHEN MELANIE CAME into Elfrida’s bedroom next morning it was impossible to divine from her appearance the momentous and astounding truth that scarcely twelve hours ago she had experienced her first kiss. She was impeccably neat in white linen, and had hardly more color than on the day they had arrived at Port Fernando. As she had assured herself in bed during the dark hours, the embrace had been too swift and impersonal to have meaning. By the time they had beached the canoe Stephen was so normal that, but for an alien heat and a stiffness in her lips, she would have doubted whether they had ever been closer than as they trudged back to the car.
Having eaten in the dining room, Melanie sauntered onto the balcony. It was a translucent morning. She thought of the sun rising over the coral reef, warming the surface where she and Stephen had lain and watched the fish. She thought of his tones, still hard but friendly, of his hands on her shoulders, of the suffocating moment when her heart had seemed to leap out of her breast. It would have been the same with any man, of course ... the palpitation, the shrinking, and longing for she knew not what; they were merely first-kiss symptoms. In a way she was glad it was over.
It would be wiser to say nothing whatever about last night’s outing to Elfrida. If eventually it came out it couldn’t be helped, but her cousin was always careful not to make too much fuss about anything connected with Stephen. Melanie suspected that he was nearly as much of an enigma to Elfrida Paget as on the day they had met.
“Melanie!”
She answered the summons, came to Elfrida’s bedside.
“Melanie, I want you to do some shopping for me. Try and buy a box of tissues and some good soap at the big store, and then go down and see if that bogus French milliner has completed my hat. And while you’re out—” a slight but noticeable pause “—buy yourself those little Indian sandals that took your fancy. I’ll treat you to them as a belated birthday present.”
“Oh. That’s ... decent of you.”
“Not at all. Here’s some money.” Melanie was at the door when Elfrida added, “By the way, we’re due to have tea with Ramon and his father this afternoon. The old senor’s knee is nearly right.”
“I’m glad. Did you see them last night?”
“I saw Ramon. He was frantic because you weren’t with me—he’d have chased down here if I hadn’t told him you’d be in bed. I know you’ve a habit of going early when you’re alone. We had a long and very interesting talk. I’ll tell you about it later.”
Though Elfrida was smiling, the promise in her voice was vaguely sinister. Melanie nodded brightly and got out of the room.
In the sunshine among the shops she felt differently. She didn’t buy the slippers because she was beginning to hate receiving things from her cousin. One way and another she earned her keep—as dressmaker alone she was worth several pounds a month—but this way of living, with Elfrida indisputably paying the hotel bill, was becoming more and more unsatisfactory.
As if it had been arranged at this phase of her thoughts, a two-seater passed her with a hand waving from the window. It was Jameson, the plantation manager—no, the plantation’s owner—and beside him sat a small, brown haired woman who must have been his wife.
“Don’t forget you’re coming out to see us,” he called. “Anytime!”
The woman nodded pleasantly in corroboration, and within a minute the car was swallowed in the medley of donkeys, mule carts and noisy tradesmen, all of whom were enveloped in clouds of fine dust.
When Melanie returned to the hotel, Elfrida was in the lounge drinking lemonade with a dash of gin. She had ordered an early lunch for both of them, to be served on her balcony, so that they could be sure of two hours’ rest before dressing to visit Senor Perez.
Melanie seldom went to the balcony after that luncheon shared with Elfrida. Merely to stand in the French doorway brought that horrible, sickening sensation to her throat, the cold rigidity to her limbs.
She had not eaten much. She was leaning sideways, with one arm on the wall and her attention upon the garden coolie’s efforts with an ancient and cumbersome lawn mower, when Elfrida murmured, “I’ve some good news for you, Melanie. Ramon wants to marry you.”
Melanie stared, aghast yet hardly surprised. Some part of her had known it for weeks, known and rejected the knowledge. But here it was, a strident fact for all Elfrida’s even tone and level smile.
With an effort she gathered her forces. “He only thinks he wants to marry me. He’s the sort of man who can’t be happy unless he’s in love with someone.”
“You misjudge him. We’ve been here two months which is ample time to become infatuated and disillusioned as well. For a Latin, he’s shown extraordinary tenacity and single-mindedness, particularly as you haven’t encouraged him.” She inclined her head, approvingly. “You’ve managed him amazingly well. I wouldn’t have believed you had it in you, and the most remarkable part of it is that he seems to be genuinely in love with you.”
The sting in the tail of this remark passed Melanie by. Paler than ever, her green eyes burning, she was incapable of speech. With studied carelessness Elfrida filled in the pause, “The Perez family is important in Cadiz. One uncle is a count and another is married to the daughter of Lord Denisham. Their riches are even more fabulous than we thought, and as Ramon’s wife you’d have a position of power. Cadiz is only a couple of hours by air from London, remember.”
“What,” asked Melanie with difficulty, “did you say to Ramon?’
“What could I say? I reminded him that I was only your cousin by marriage, that you yourself would have to make the decision. In Spain these matters are conducted between parents or guardians, and Ramon gave me to understand that Senor Perez will ask my sanction to the marriage this afternoon.”
“You surely don’t expect me to ... agree?”
“You’ll be an utter fool if you don’t,” said Elfrida mildly. “Just think over the advantages. A dashing young husband who adores you, the best social set in Cadiz and London, unlimited means. Ramon said there would be a handsome marriage settlement; and you’ll admit you’ve already experienced both his generosity and the old senor’s.”
“But you’ve ignored one thing,” said Melanie bleakly. “I’m not in love with him.”
“My dear innocent,” Elfrida’s urbanity was wearing at the edges, “in marriage, wholehearted love is more of a handicap than a blessing. Don’t try to tell me that you couldn’t respond to his passion; any woman could. You’ll be a thousand times happier with Ramon than you would be struggling to make a career for yourself in England. And as his wife you could even continue studying the piano, if you wished, and afford the best masters.”
Melanie’s fingers curled tightly into her palms. “However you look at it, it would be an arranged marriage, for financial gain. If I went through with it I’d never again be able to face my conscience. I’d loathe myself for the rest of my life.”
“Melodramatic, aren’t we?” A sneer edged her voice. “I’d advise you to reflect upon the past months tha
t you’ve spent with me. It’s nearly a year since I had you away from that grim school, and I’ve kept you ever since. I took you across France—” Elfrida, well aware that France had been no picnic for Melanie, did not elaborate “—and I brought you to Mindoa.”
“I know all you’ve done and I’m grateful. But I don’t have to marry the man you choose. If you wish us to part it can be arranged without that.”
“How?” Elfrida infused the query with cold, heavy sarcasm. “Maybe you could just about rake up tourist-class fare from your mother’s money, but even that would take time in correspondence with the lawyer—and who would pay your expenses meanwhile? You’re not in a position to be finicky about your conscience.”
Melanie got up. Elfrida, still comfortably seated at the table, met her eyes, challengingly.
“You don’t have to decide right away. Ramon prepared me for this afternoon’s formality for obvious reasons, but you’ll be given a couple of days in which to overcome your natural modesty.”
Paperwhite, her whole being strung up on taut wires, Melanie answered, “I don’t need a couple of days. I won’t marry Ramon.”
Elfrida lay back, clasped her slim white hands upon the edge of the table. “Since you force me to it, I’ll be frank with you. You’ve no option but to marry Ramon. You see, Melanie, I’ve no money, not a cent. I owe madame downstairs about seventy pounds. She thinks I’ve cabled to England for money, but it wouldn’t be any good if I did—there’s none there. In addition I owe Henry Jameson eleven hundred pounds, which he may or may not get.”
Melanie listened, fascinated, terrified. John had sold the plantation before he died. Elfrida was worse than penniless— she was alarmingly in debt. And it emerged that Elfrida wasn’t wholly to blame; she had honestly believed she owned the plantation, however poor its condition.
“There’s a British governing council here,” she said desperately. “They’ll help us, and as soon as we get back to England I’ll find a job. We’ll...”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Your earnings wouldn’t pay many bills and I’ve never worked in my life. Why should we plunge into poverty when there’s a fortune that’s yours for the taking?”
“Elfrida, please.” Melanie felt as if all those wires in her body had snapped in one go, as if she had no position, no entity. “Couldn’t we consult Stephen?”
The other woman leaned forward, her nostrils pinched, her mouth a thin, vindictive line. “Don’t you dare to tell Stephen! If I’ve run up debts in order to get you a rich husband, only you are concerned.”
“But even if I consented to marry Ramon, you’d still owe the money.”
“Leave that part of it to me. All you have to do is be submissive and sweet. There’ll be no hurry about the wedding. There won’t even be an official engagement till you reach Cadiz, because Ramon has a sentimental affection for his mother and he’d like her to be in on it. Now go to your room and rest that stricken look out of your eyes before we go to the villa ... and for heaven’s sake try to realize your good fortune!”
Perhaps it was shock that sealed up Melanie’s reasoning processes. Like a sleepwalker she went to her own room and dropped down on the side of the bed, and presently she lay full-length and pressed hot fingers over her eyes. She only knew that nothing, no one, would ever persuade her to marry Ramon Perez.
When he arrived at the hotel at three-thirty, Melanie was ready and quite composed. To his quick, imploring look she returned a set little smile. On the way to the, villa Elfrida conversed deftly, and when they came upon Senor Perez in his lounge, it was she who put the solicitous inquiries and expressed relief that his injury had not been more severe. The old man turned kindly to Melanie.
“You are well, my dear? A headache, perhaps?”
“No, senor. I am well, thank you.”
“She went shopping this morning,” submitted Elfrida easily. “The heat may have been too much.”
“Then we will be quiet and domestic,” said Senor Perez. “Ramon, set the fan working and call for tea.”
Gently but decisively he eased the dramatic tension. Maybe he guessed that Ramon had been indiscreet enough to mention the delicate matter before it had been discussed between his father and Melanie’s guardian.
While tea was dispensed the conversation was light and pleasant. When the tray had been taken, Ramon rose and asked Melanie to walk with him in the garden.
The senor glanced at him warningly. “Not too far, my son, and not too fast. You understand?”
Ramon must have understood very well, for his manner during that half-hour stroll was exemplary. Ingrained in him was a respect for the conventions as practiced in Spain. Melanie was his chosen, his fair bride-to-be, but not yet by her own consent. That would come, and meanwhile he would not be found deficient in courtesy and patience. There were many details to be settled before the more exciting plans could be made.
The afternoon ended as formally as it had begun. The senor was left in the lounge resting his knee, Ramon drove the two women back to the hotel, kissed a hand of each and gave Melanie’s a quick pressure. Impossible to doubt his sincerity, thought Melanie despairingly.
She parted from Elfrida in the corridor and slipped into her own room. But the walls pressed in, the smells from the back street were close and nauseating. She felt drained and nerveless, hopelessly and horribly frightened. She had not been alone more than ten minutes when Elfrida tapped and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her; she was carefully serene and as amicable as if she were in the habit of dropping in for a chat.
She went to the window. “What a revolting view! But the primitive never does disgust you, does it? Still, I daresay even you would rather live among lovely things than in the midst of squalor. Senor Perez thinks you have a remarkable appreciation of beauty.” She turned and glanced at Melanie’s still figure beside the bed. “We have to be friends in this, Melanie. The senor is more than willing to welcome you as a daughter-in-law. He confirmed all that Ramon told me about the marriage settlement; it looks like a colossal sum and will be yours unconditionally for the rest of your life. He was emphatic about there being no haste for your final reply. Ramon wants you, and that is enough for the old chap, but he has respect for your shyness and wishes Ramon to show a similar respect. Which I must say is considerate of him.”
A faint nod was the only acknowledgment Melanie could yield.
“It isn’t as if they were demanding an immediate marriage, or even an engagement,” Elfrida went on reasonably. “Fortunately, the senor is old-fashioned enough to think it best that you get used to the idea of Ramon becoming your husband—apparently that’s how it’s done in the best families in Spain. He proposes that we all stay on at Mindoa for a few weeks, after which the four of us will travel together to Cadiz. Once we get there, of course, things will happen swiftly.”
Melanie spoke in a flat, husky voice. “It’s wrong, Elfrida. There must be some other way out. I can’t think of one just now, but I will.”
“You’re tired, my dear, and no wonder. Let me do the worrying.” Slowly, she paced back to the door, and hesitated with her fingers on the handle. “Forgive me for reminding you again how much I’ve done for you in the past year, but I feel you owe me at least the promise that you won’t act against this marriage in any way without first talking it over with me.”
“All right,” Melanie whispered tonelessly. “I promise.”
“Good.” Elfrida smiled. “In a day or two you won’t regret this step. You may not believe it now, but today has completely changed both our lives.”
Melanie did believe it. A few hours ago she had been a girl with a problem or two; they had appeared difficult then. Now she was a woman with a load of anxiety and not a single friend to help her find a way out of it.
CHAPTER TEN
FOR A FEW DAYS Melanie was sustained by irrational hopes. She had promised Elfrida not to go to Stephen, but there remained the slender chance of his hearing the news from Senor Perez, and s
urely if he did he would at once dispel the dishonesty and get at the truth, save Melanie and tell her what to do. He was so strong and sane, so steadfast in the conduct of his own affairs.
One morning when Melanie was trying to read on the terrace, Stephen’s car nosed around the driveway. Relief was painful in her chest, made her knees tremble. She hurried to the path, met his Indian driver and almost snatched the note he held out.
“Good morning, infant,” she read. “You said you’d like to visit the diggings. Slide into the car and Vasseljee will bring you.”
From the tenor of the note she was certain that Stephen knew nothing. He was still being kind, still “furthering her education.” Much as she wanted to see him, there could be only frustration and danger in spending hours with him at the diggings. Blindly she took a pencil from her bag and scribbled a reply on the back of the sheet, “Sorry, Stephen, but I’m tied up this morning.”
Apparently there was to be no help from Stephen Brent, no help from anyone. She must steel herself to face the bald reality of being alone. After all, till she left Mindoa with the Perez father and son she was not actually committed to marrying Ramon. She shrank from wounding the old man; nor would she wish to hurt Ramon. But marriage was irrevocable, and no one in the world had the right to force such a bond on another.
Her relationship with Elfrida had changed. Though she occasionally went into the large bedroom she never stayed there to talk. Elfrida set her own hair and washed her own stockings, and if she did not get around to tidying the room it was left in a muddle for the bedroom boy to sort out. They still ate together in the hotel dining room, but between meals, except when Ramon called, Melanie put as much space between them as she could.
Ramon was heartbreakingly gentle. When they were alone his eyes would leap, his polite hold of her arm tighten but somehow he quelched his passion. Thankful from the core of her being, Melanie yet could not understand that forced withdrawal, though she guessed the old senor was responsible for it.
Stormy Haven Page 8
