The Bay of Moonlight

by Rose Burghley

  Instead she stood studying every detail of the portrait, and not for the first time the absolute perfection of the pictured face impressed her. Venetia was so beautiful that Frank Ironside must be slightly mad to try and persuade her, Sarah, that they had something in common, apart from the fact that they were both fair- haired and fair-skinned. Sarah chose to think of herself as a mousy blonde, but apparently her Aunt Constance thought otherwise. She had actually said that she considered her niece pretty ... and there was no doubt about it, Frank Ironside thought her attractive, too.

  But there was a whole area of difference between being pretty and attractive and being beautiful ... beautiful in the way that Venetia Saratola so undeniably and unmistakably was. Any man who looked first at Venetia would not pause to give a second look at Sarah, unless he was missing the one and detected something faintly in the other that revived memories and aroused a purely temporary feeling of interest.

  That first time he caught sight of her in the hotel in Lisbon, Saratola had seemed mildly startled, and he had not attempted to disguise the fact that he was intrigued. For a man whose whole attitude to life was formal he had not been as formal as he might have been. And when she took the box of sweets to the children's suite the following afternoon he had intervened and prevented Carmelita from more or less closing the door in her face.

  When he asked her if she would take charge of the children he had been formal and not particularly friendly - even slightly hostile. But that could have been because he suspected she was forming an attachment for Frank Ironside, with whom he had seen her seated in one of the lounges the evening before, and he had made it quite clear that if she was to be employed by him he would frown upon an association of that sort.

  Why?

  It was really nothing to do with him, and the fact that he employed her did not give him the right to dictate her friendships, or the details of her private life. So long as she carried out her duties in a ,way that could draw no criticism down upon herself Saratola had no right to object to anything she did.

  But he did object. Before he left for Lisbon he had made that clear.

  She wandered through the empty rooms on the ground floor of the villa, and it seemed to her that in the dining-room the attractive scent of Saratola's own specially blended cigarettes lingered. It was a vaguely exciting scent, an extremely masculine scent, and she knew that he occasionally smoked cigars there, too.

  She looked towards the head of the table, where he sat, and it seemed to her that he was occupying the chair although she knew he was actually miles distant. She felt as if his eyes watched her, and he was leaning forward in his chair and there was an alert and interested expression on his face.

  Again she asked herself, why?

  She went back to the sala and examined the portrait once more, then she went upstairs to her room and examined her own features in her dressing-table mirror.

  She had no desire whatsoever to be like Venetia, she told herself angrily ... and she knew she hated the thought that there was something about her that reminded the man who employed her of his fantastically beautiful sister-in-law. He would have to be missing her sorely if he saw reflections of her image in other women who came near him, and who were quite unimportant otherwise in his life.

  That night she dreamed that she and Saratola were walking in the garden, and he was talking softly and intimately to her as he had come very close to doing on the night before he left for Lisbon. In her dream she felt the warmth and the strength of his fingers encircling her wrist, and when she woke up to find the moonlight pouring into her room and the bay outside her window a blaze of silvery light she didn't need to be told why she bitterly resented the thought that any - anyone - could see something of Venetia in her.

  The next morning she asked the housekeeper if she had any idea when Senhor Saratola was expected back, but Senhora Delgado shrugged her shoulders and looked slightly disdainful, as if such a question should not really have been asked by the governess.

  'I do not know, senhorita.'' She spread her hands. 'The senhor does not take me into his confidence about such matters, apart from the occasions when he wishes to let me know that he will be bringing guests with him when he returns. It is possible that he will be accompanied by guests when we see him again, but I do not know... I have no idea! The senhor is very well known in Lisbon and has many friends. If he is entertaining a great deal, and is receiving many invitations, then it may well be several weeks before he is here again.'

  'I see.' Sarah tried hard to keep the extraordinary feeling that was rather like dismay that this prediction aroused in her out of her face. 'But he did say he would not be long,' she added, as if she half suspected Senhora Delgado was merely being awkward.

  Once again the housekeeper shrugged.

  'I do not know, senhorita,' was all she would say, 'The senhor comes and goes as he pleases, and it is not for me to interfere with his arrangements. He has established you here with the children, and no doubt he expects you to look after them without supervision. Your testimonials have apparently satisfied him, and he has confidence in your abilities. If you have problems you might convey them to him in a letter. I could provide you with his address.'

  'No, thank you.' Sarah turned away. 'There are no problems.'

  But she was aware that the housekeeper's eyes followed her as she walked away, and as always the older woman's expression was a trifle tight-lipped. She was no doubt anticipating that the English Miss Cunninghame would have problems sooner or later.

  The knowledge that her employer was unlikely to keep his word and return fairly soon - and she had gathered that the housekeeper did not really expect him very soon - upset Sarah for the rest of that morning, and she simply could not explain away to herself the reason why she was upset. It was true she had been hired to look after the children, and they were now her responsibility. But she had been pressed into the Saratola service and been strongly tempted to turn the whole thing down. After all, she was English, and unfamiliar with Portuguese habits and customs, and the Portuguese way of life. She had expected a certain amount of support from Philip Saratola - or someone in the district with more authority than Senhora Delgado apparently possessed to guide and advise her should things go wrong. And when you were in charge of children things were often likely to go wrong. .:.

  If the tutor failed to turn up and commence Roberto's lessons what was she to do? If any emergency arose, what would she do ?

  She asked herself these things as she gave the children their breakfast and then took them down on to the beach for the ritual morning bathe, and the idle hours in the shelter of the rocks that would follow.

  She watched Roberto scrambling over the rocks and thought, 'Supposing he slips and has an accident? What do I do?'

  She bit her lip. Of course, it was obvious she would simply have to call the local doctor, and use her own intelligence. But the real reason for her concern was her knowledge that she had expected Saratola to return ... quite soon. And she might not see him for months!

  She was repairing a rent in one of Maria's charming cotton dresses that had been ripped by a thorn bush the previous day when Frank Ironside emerged from his hotel and came striding to greet her. He said he was going to insist that she dined with him that night, and, somewhat to his surprise, she agreed without much difficulty. The only stipulation she made was that it should be a short, quick dinner, and she would have to be absolutely certain Senhora Delgado - or preferably the maid who looked after the nursery side of the house since their arrival from Lisbon - would be on hand to listen for the children should they want anything.

  Unless these arrangements could be successfully laid on she would have to say no.

  Frank smiled. He thought that her expression was a trifle downcast this morning, and she had been frowning rather severely over her sewing when he first caught sight of her. He suspected she had something on her mind, or else she was growing bored.

  'Getting tired of being shut away
here with the children?' he asked. 'After all, you didn't come out here to act the part of baby-sitter, did you? And it seems to me that's the role you're filling! Your employer doesn't seem to think you're entitled to any life of your own, otherwise he would have insisted that you had proper off-duty periods. Did it never once occur to him that you would want some time to yourself?'

  Sarah's frown bit into her smooth forehead as she bent over her sewing.

  'I don't suppose it occurred to him that I would need off-duty periods,' she replied.

  Then he's not a very good employer. And to go off and leave you with a house full of Portuguese and no one to turn to—'

  'I'm sure the Portuguese servants would be quite helpful in any real difficulty,' Sarah in all fairness felt it necessary to counteract this criticism.

  Frank shrugged.

  'That's what you think. But I didn't much care for the look of that housekeeper when I caught sight of her yesterday, and you say the brother only waits at table and does jobs like that. What will happen if the tutor doesn't turn up and Roberto doesn't start his lessons? Will it be your job to try and fill the gap or find someone else? Because I wouldn't mind taking on Roberto myself for a few weeks, It would be an excuse to come and see you in the villa.'

  Sarah was quite startled by the suggestion, but Frank was smiling, and she didn't take him seriously. It was obvious that he was merely making idle conversation.

  But that night, when she was ready to accompany him out to dinner, she felt sorry that she had riot turned the suggestion down out of hand, and she also found herself recalling that it was not the first time he had mentioned Roberto's tutor. The problem of Roberto's education seemed to be pressing on his mind.

  She had arranged to meet him outside the villa gates, in order to prevent him coming to the house to collect her. The children both knew that she was going out for the evening, and Maria had protested at first because, or so she said, she disliked to be left alone in the house with only Senhora Delgado and her brother, and the maid, Inez. But Roberto reminded her that he was there to protect her if she needed any protection, and he even offered to leave his door open so that she could call out if she was nervous. And as Roberto already had a strange, masculine complex that made him uncomfortable if he was not afforded the maximum amount of privacy in his own room this was, indeed, a concession on his part.

  Maria was intrigued by his willingness to leave his door open, and said she would call out every ten minutes until she fell asleep to make certain he also was awake; but as she insisted on his door being propped open lest by some accident it should become closed Roberto began to be a trifle disgruntled, and Sarah very nearly decided not to leave them after all, and to dispatch a note to Frank at his hotel warning him that she would be unable to dine with him.

  But in the end both children quietened down and said they would be perfectly all right... and as Sarah knew there was no reason why they shouldn't be all right, and as she had no intention of leaving them for long, she went away to get dressed after promising to let them see her when she was ready for what they called her dinner-party.'

  'When my mama goes out to dinner she looks very beautiful,' Maria said. 'How beautiful will you look, Sarah?'

  'She will look very beautiful,' Roberto predicted gallantly - Portuguese gallantry, Sarah felt sure - and then concentrated on the pieces of a model aeroplane he was assembling.

  Sarah had decided to wear the black silk cocktail suit she had bought in Lisbon, and it really suited her extremely well, as she realized herself when she was finally ready.

  She took no great trouble over her appearance, because this was, after all, no very special occasion. She liked frank Ironside up to a point, but only up to a point. He was rather too addicted to fulsome flatteries for her liking, and too ready to assume that a lonely young woman must be delighted to have him around. As a matter of fact, she was not nearly as lonely as he imagined... and if she was lonely in the evenings it was only because, for the first few days at the villa, she had had the company of her employer at dinner, and for an hour or so after dinner.

  But she was too wise to indicate to Frank Ironside that she missed her employer.

  She showed herself to the children and they went into raptures. She had washed her hair during the afternoon, and it was soft and golden and framed her face in a most attractive way. The ends curled naturally, and she never had any trouble with it, so a final rub with a silk handkerchief had the desired effect of adding an extra sheen.

  She used make-up sparingly because of her tap, but she looked rather more flower-like than sun-kissed when she was ready. It was astonishing, she thought, how she never could manage to look really tanned however hard she tried. And fortunately her sensitive type of skin didn't turn red and peel, either.

  The slimness of the silk suit emphasized the extreme slenderness of her figure. The lace ruffles at neck and wrists were a delightful touch, and they made her look very youthful... and a little out of touch with a modern world. She was always most meticulous about her hands and nails and the finer points of her toilet, and she looked very poised and perfect when she descended the black oak staircase of La Cristola, one hand on the balustrade and the other clutching a small silver brocade evening bag. With every step she descended a light cloud of delicate perfume followed her, and it was a subtle waft of this perfume, which must have also gone ahead of her, which caused the man in the hall who was crossing it on his way from the sala to his own private sanctum, the library, to pause and glance upwards quickly in appreciative surprise.

  Instantly his appreciation grew. His dark, lustrous eyes widened and the lustrous look became a positive beam of open approval. He took a quick step towards the foot of the stairs, grasped the newel-post firmly with a lean, brown hand, and looked up at her.

  'You look utterly enchanting, senhorita,' he told her.

  But all Sarah could respond rather feebly, was:

  'You, senhor! I had no idea you were back!'

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  He held open the door of the library, and invited her with a smile to enter it.

  He was in evening dress, and she thought that he had never looked handsomer. There was a flower in the lapel of his white dinner-jacket. He wore a crimson silk cummerbund, and a crimson silk handkerchief was tucked jauntily in at the end of one of his sleeves. Apart from that his darkness was arresting, and he looked as if he had just emerged from the hands of a careful valet ... who was undoubtedly Senhora Delgado's brother, , for there was no one else at La Cristola to valet him.

  Sarah moved forward hesitantly, wondering why he looked so festive - and so obviously prepared to enjoy himself for some reason - and not in the least as if he suspected she was about to go out. Unless it was that he was so preoccupied with plans he had made for his own evening's entertainment that his mood was unusually urbane, and might even be prepared to forgive her for arranging to meet Frank Ironside.

  She swallowed. She knew she had to tell him that she was meeting Frank, but owing to her unwillingness to break the news to him, the words stuck in her throat.

  'Come in, come in,' he said. He walked to the table, that appeared to be littered with parcels. 'I have brought presents for the children, and something for you, too, Sarah, if you will accept it.' His eyes dwelt on her, kindling and glowing in the strangest fashion. 'But they will keep until tomorrow, because I want to talk to you first. I want to hear how you all are. The children are well?'

  'Yes, senhor.'

  'Good.' He was smiling at her in a disarming and disturbing fashion. 'And you?'

  'I... I am quite well, senhor.'

  'That is splendid. You certainly look well. You look, as I told you just now, utterly enchanting in that outfit. I haven't seen it before, have I?'

  'N-no, senhor. I bought it in Lisbon.'

  'Ah! While you were on holiday with your aunt, the other Miss Cunninghame. By the way, have you had any news of your aunt? She, too, is well?'

  'Yes, senhor,
very well.'

  He pushed forward a chair for her.

  'Sit down, please,' he begged her. 'I am so delighted to be back that I am forgetting my manners. But I trust you will forgive me. After all, it is more than a week since I left for Lisbon, and to me, if not to you, it has seemed a long time.?

  Their eyes met and held, and hers were bewildered and distinctly agitated, while his seemed to be attempting to get some message through to her ... a message she couldn't possibly believe in, even if his undoubted pleasure because he was seeing her again had succeeded in making some impression on her. Which it had. But she told herself that she was imagining things.

  He was going out for the evening, and he was happy, and that was the reason he was so relaxed and charming and benevolent. There couldn't possibly be-any other explanation for it.

  'As a matter of fact, senhor,' she stammered, 'I - I was wondering when you were coming back.'

  'Because you wished to see me, or because you have problems?'

  'There are no problems, senhor,' moistening her lips.

  His eyes rewarded her with a truly brilliant smile.

  'That is the best news I have heard for a long time, Sarah ... but I do wish you would stop calling me senhor!' with an air of impatience.

  She moistened her lips again.

  'I find it a little difficult to - to call you Philip, senhor,' she apologized. 'Besides, the suddenness of your return has taken me by surprise.'

  'And that is all?' He moved over to her, and for one moment she thought he was going to rest his hand on the arm of her chair - a beautifully carved chair of Portuguese mahogany - and bend over her. But if that had been his intention, he changed his mind and maintained his extremely upright carriage. 'Sarah. ...' For the first time there was slight hesitation on his part. 'It is fortunate you are so charmingly dressed, and that we need waste no time while you go upstairs again, for I am taking you out to dinner. There is a little place in the neighbourhood - the Golden Rose - that I think you will like,, and I have already reserved a table there for two. If 'we leave now—' He glanced at his watch '—we shall be in excellent time for an aperitif, and then after dinner there is a floor show ... and I'm sure you dance beautifully!'