Island Of Pearls

by Margaret Rome

  ing flawlessness with innocence, bestowing purity upon the chaste...

  Hazel went into the bathroom to take a shower. The ■ water, deliciously cool, needled her alive and chased the dejected droop from her shoulders. Slowly her spirits revived. Things might not be so bad, she con-consoled herself as she towelled dry. Francisco had promised her security and a luxurious way of life far removed from anything she had ever known, and up until now his promises had all been kept. Only yester-day she had been summoned to his study and in the presence of his solicitor had watched him scrawl his signature on a marriage settlement generous enough to ensure her financial security for the rest of her life.

  She wandered back into the bedroom and sat at the dressing table to stare thoughtfully at her mirrored reflection. How little he was to receive from the arrangement! His wealth could have bought him a poised, assured hostess, an expert conversationalist, faultless in face and figure. Remembering the nickname her school friends had given her, her eyes clouded and her small pointed features became bleak. Hazel Brown - Nut-Brown! The teasing name had always struck her as unkind. Brown eyes, revealed golden only when afire with happiness or light, brown hair streaked here and there chestnut red, and a brown personality, she mocked in self-disgust, meek, timid, and so boringly ordinary ! Quickly she averted her eyes and jumped to her feet. Self-pity would get her nowhere; the least she could do was see that Francisco received some value for money, and the only way to do that was to carry out excep-tionally well the job she was being paid to do.

  In a matter of seconds she had pulled on a sleeveless cotton dress, green as young shoots, and after pushing her bare feet into thonged sandals she padded outside and along the corridor to Carmen's room. She hesitated outside the door. Carmen, like herself, hated wasting time in siesta, but the little one's crying bout could have exhausted her and Hazel had no wish to rouse her from sleep. Noiselessly, she pushed open the door and crept towards the bed, which was shrouded in dimness caused by shuttered windows. She hardly breathed as she peeped across the foot, but instinct must have warned Carmen she was not alone, because she lifted her head from the pillow and quavered: "Who's there?"

  "Can't you guess?" Hazel teased, a bright smile hiding the heartache she felt at the sight of Carmen's quivering mouth and tear-swollen eyes.

  "Hazel! Hazel!" the child screamed, lifting her arms in an impulsive demand for comfort.

  "Oh, poor baby!" Hazel gathered Carmen's gulp-racked frame in loving arms. "Don't cry any more, sweetheart, I'm here now and I'm staying for good - or for as long as you need me."

  "Then that will be for ever and ever! Promise, Hazel, promise ... ?" Carmen's thin arms urged with a love that had its true strength been demonstrated, would have cracked Hazel's slender frame in half.

  "Yes, yes, I promise," she laughed, trying to extricate herself from the demanding clutch. Firmly she discouraged further emotion by decreeing, "Your most important need at the moment is a wash. Come on, out of bed with you, and while you're deciding upon a dress I'll turn on the shower. Quickly now,

  there's not much time left before dinner!" Not without qualms of conscience, she led Carmen on tiptoe past the study door. Once they reached the garden their footsteps quickened until by the time they had

  reached the beach their breathing was jerky and they were trembling as if they had weathered the

  solano, the sultry wind peasants referred to as "dragon's breath".

  "He'll be furious when he finds out we have disobeyed him," Carmen informed her with the calm panache of one who has often experienced wrath.

  "Nonsense!" Hazel tried to laugh, but her heart sank.

  Carmen was inclined to be precocious - the result of always having mixed with grown-ups rather than children to the extent that sometimes Hazel felt she was conversing with another adult, one more sophisti-cted and worldly than herself. "Your uncle was very angry with you when he banished you to your room, but I'm sure he will have relented by now. Even he must realize that missing the wedding service was punishment enough."

  That "even he" was a mistake she would have retracted the moment it was said, and the faint hope that Carmen might have missed the emphasis flickered into extinction when the child seized upon it with relish. "Tio Fran-isco is a monster, you know," she told an appalled Hazel. "I heard my mother say so to my father once." The small earnest face grew sad as she recalled her parents, and Hazel had not the heart to chastise her when with a prim censure that sat oddly upon her childish features Carmen repeated more overheard conversation. "My mother was betrothed to Tio

  Francisco, but she married my father instead, which made Tio so angry he would not allow him to continue working in the business nor even to pay a visit. It was wrong that the elder brother should have so much and the younger so little, my mother said, so she insisted upon my father approaching Tio just once more, because we had very little money and my father could not find work as his knowledge was all of the business and was very spesh . . . spesh ..."

  "Specialized?" Hazel offered faintly.

  "Yes, just as you say!" Carmen nodded triumphantly. "It means secret, I think, because when my mother urged him to contact someone who would have given a lot of money for information about the business he refused, saying he could not give away family secrets, not even to spite Tio ... It was then that my mother called Tio a monster!"

  "Hush!" Hazel clapped her hand over Carmen's mouth to still further confidences. She did not want to know another thing about the vendetta that had existed between the two brothers, because what little she had learnt had left her feeling burnt up with anger against parents who could burden a child with their troubles, however unthinkingly, and against the man who was not above allowing hatred of his brother and the woman who had spurned him to colour his attitude towards their orphaned child. Why he had been chosen as her guardian was a mystery - as big a mystery as the man himself who, for all his distaste of the situation, had accepted such a responsibility.

  For the next hour they occupied themselves by building sand castles and when that palled they played

  quoits on the smooth stretch of beach. She had not allowed Carmen to become over-excited, but pleasur-able activity shared with a companion who could shed years at will resulted in her voice rising shrill and penetrating as they returned to the casa. Carmen stumbled as she entered the hall, and the ball she was holding flew from her hands to bounce noisily across the marble floor. Her shriek of laughter as she joyfully chased it was piercing enough to have reached the alabaster ears of the cherubs reclining in most unchild-like attitudes upon the magnificent ceiling and seemed even to raise the painted eyebrows of the stern-faced men and their beautiful wives whose portraits lined the vast museum-like hall. Certainly, it must have penetrated the massive door of hand-carved wood leading into Francisco's study, because it was thrown open by his impatient hand, and when he recognized the culprit his features set with frowning displeasure.

  "Carmen!" She halted in her tracks. "Why aren't you in your room?"

  Her chin took on an impish tilt, but before she could aswer Hazel intervened; the child was not usually impudent, but she had inherited enough of her uncle's temperament to give a pert answer if pushed. "It was my idea, Francisco," she stumbled over the name he

  had insisted she should use. "It's not good for the child to be alone in a stuffy room, so I decided..."

  "You decided?" The icy query was so insultingly stressed she was rendered dumb. His hard look raked her hot, miserable face before glancing across to Carmen.

  "Leave us, aprisa!" he commanded, his tone communicating unmistakably the threat of retribution. When

  Carmen's footsteps scampered out of earshot his attention was trained once more upon Hazel. "Before this day is much older we must reach an understanding, you and I," he directed coldly across her bent head. "I should like to see you here in my study half an hour before dinner, so that I may instruct you further in the manner in which any future orders of mine are to be carried out
."

  The study door closed, leaving her staring wide-eyed and apprehensive around the hall which now seemed filled with silent laughter. Fearfully, her glance was drawn along the line of sombre portraits, then quickly she looked away. It could have been a trick of light, but each proud profile seemed to have assumed an attitude of scorn, the resurrected eyes glinting their contempt of the imposter in their midst. Fighting a wave of trembling she forced herself to walk past them until she reached the staircase where, with her feet on the first step, she braved a second look. Dark shadows were fingering huge tapestries depicting a youthful warrior, with lance poised, astride a thoroughbred horse whose slender legs pranced just out of range of the jaws of a fire-breathing dragon. As was to be expected, there was a maiden in distress cowering nearby, her worshipping eyes showering adoration upon her would-be deliverer. She was represented as a pearl in the Drach family escudo, a symbol of the beauty and purity they held so dear, and the dragon was the monster temper, which curse had bedevilled Drach men throughout the ages. Hazel shivered, recalling Francisco's leashed anger. The curse still flourished - but how ardently, and with what amount of strength was it controlled ?

  She began ascending the stairs with weary, despond-ant steps, but even the minimal amount of draught she caused was sufficient to set off the tinkling of bells. A corner of her mouth lifted and she hesitated, delighted as always by the sound. The wrought iron balustrade was fashioned into ears of wheat so delicately formed that the slightest passage of air was enough to set them swaying. Tree trunks of slender iron gave support where it was needed, but their leaves and branches combined artistry with strength. The tinkling came from bells hung about the necks of goats by finely wrought ribbons, and even the shepherd's crooks responded with a satisfying sway to the force of a well-aimed breath. To Hazel, the staircase was a source of beauty and joy, it spoke to her in a language of hope, proving by its very existence that the arrogant and feared Drach family

  betrayed by its love of beauty a strain of deep sensitivity. As she ran the rest of the way upstairs the joyous

  carrillon that accompanied her found an echo in a heart full of sudden happiness.

  She took a long time deciding which dress to wear for dinner that evening. Her choice was limited because her grandmother's legacy had not stretched far enough to allow for more than two evening dresses, but both were new and the novelty of owning even one such extrava-gant luxury still possessed her. After much deliberation she discarded green cotton in favour of a bronze velvet with long, tight-fitting sleeves ending in a point below her wrist. Its uncluttered lines hugged her slim body, flattering her tiny waist and outlining the thrust of small breasts. An embroidered girdle hanging loosely around her waist was its only decoration, and the

  result was simplicity with a medieval quality that blended well with her surroundings. She would need more clothes, Francisco had informed her with such detachment that they might have been discussing the replacement of servants' uniforms - even now the bored edge of his remark rankled enough to set her cheeks afire. She sat down with cooling hands pressed to her face and watched with a mixture of impatience and terror the hands of the clock creeping slowly forward, then, at the time stipulated, she began making her way downstairs to present herself in his study.

  He was standing lance-straight in front of a marble fireplace that rose sheer from the floor to ceiling, yet he did not seem dominated. Rather he seemed part of it, dignified, aristocratic, unyielding. Hazel shivered and moved forward, responding to commanding eyes so dark and thickly fringed that they recalled to mind reeded pools, shaded with mystery. His voice projected cold, it flicked steel-tipped indifference into even conventional greeting. "Buenas tardes, your punctuality pleases me. I deplore the vanity of most of your sex who suffer from the delusion that a man's interest becomes more marked the longer he is kept waiting." One black eyebrow rose questioningly when she smiled wryly.

  "As a child I was never permitted the indulgence of even the small sin of vanity, so you are quite safe, I would never presume an interest where I know interest cannot exist."

  "Cannot ?" He moved forward, curiosity momentarily replacing aloofness, to study her upturned face, and immediately she was disarmed. For the first time she held his complete attention and as he perused her softly

  flushed cheeks and uncertain mouth the experience wreaked havoc in her heart. A log hissed and collapsed into the heart of the fire, sending out a flare of vivid orange light. For the second she was caught within its range her hair took on glorious life, and a quickly indrawn breath evidenced his surprise as flame was held prisoner in eyes of deepest amber, lending to them a rare beauty. Grudgingly, when the flame had died, he was moved to admit, "You do yourself an injustice, mia cara. Yours is not an obvious beauty, but a man willing to search in depth would, I'm sure, find much to interest him."

  She flinched from the hint of condescension in his tone. His assessment was so unfeelingly blunt it could have come only from one completely indifferent to the inflicting of pain. To him, she was too much of a nonentity to merit even the small effort of a compliment. The knowledge stung - stung so much that she had to bite hard to steady her trembling bottom lip.

  Glasses clinked upon a silver salver as Francisco poured out drinks. Without asking her preference, he handed her a fluted glass containing golden wine and indicated that she should drink. She was perched on the edge of a chair and when he sat down opposite and began studying her she took a nervous gulp, then almost choked as the very dry sherry bit into the back of her throat. "Per mi vida! Have you so little respect for wine you gulp it down like limonada?" he scolded even as he thrust a crisp handkerchief into her fist. He waited ■■sympathetically until her spasm of coughing was under control, then offered dryly, "It would appear there are now two children resident in the Casa. I had

  not realized how very immature you are, but still," he stared thoughtfully into his glass like a seer probing the future, "perhaps it is not such a bad thing. When I employed you to entertain Carmen and to keep her out of my way was I conscious that the child's real need was for companionship of her own age, and yet I was not prepared to have the Casa overrun by unruly brats. Once you accept that my orders are to be obeyed implicitly you should be able to command from Carmen the modicum of respect due to an older, more responsible playmate," he suddenly mocked.

  Carefully, Hazel set down her glass; his galling amusement had roused a dignity she had not known she possessed. His eyes were upon her hands clenched tightly on her lap, so he missed the sparkle of humiliated tears and heard only a small cool voice as she charged, "It's gratifying to discover you have a sense of humour, senor, even if its cruel and somewhat peculiar quality causes amusement only to yourself. You may be right in implying that I have the mind of a child, but at least Carmen will never suffer from my hands the sophisticated type of torture which allowed you to snatch from the child's reach a long-awaited treat as punishment for what was really a very small misdemeanour." She faltered when his head snapped up, temper showing in an arrogant flare of nostrils.

  "You call deliberate disobedience a small misdemeanour ?" he clipped.

  "She was excited because she had waited so long for the wedding day to arrive," Hazel stammered. "To a child a week can seem like a year when a treat is in store, and she really did forget in her excitement that

  you had forbidden her to waken me early. And it wasn't if I was asleep ..." "Enough !" Black eyes glittered angry displeasure as waved away her flow of nervous excuses. He stood evidently determined to end the conversation, but courage welled up and enabled her to spurt out the words. "Why don't you try making friends with Carmen ? She's such a lonely little scrap, she misses her parents morre than you seem to realize. Couldn't you . . ." she gulped back the lump of fear that suddenly threatened choke her, "couldn't you try to take the place of her father - your brother - after all, you must feel some affection for the child you've taken into care..." He had melted into the shadows, so she could n
ot read the expresssion on his face, but something about ■ his tall, lean outline warned her that she had overstepped the boundary of what was allowed to be said to the aloof Marques. In spite of the glowing fire the room felt hung with chill, she shivered, then jerked like a startled fawn when his voice lashed out of the darkness. "The child is here on sufferance, not out of any feeling affection but simply to appease a prick of conscience." He hesitated fractionally, then, with such austere detachment he could have been voicing a platitude, he concluded, "I'm sure you'll agree that it was the least I could do, considering I was responsible for the death of herr parents!"

  CHAPTER III

  When Hazel received a letter from the hotel informing her that some small items she had left behind were awaiting collection, Tio Garcia put his car and himself at her disposal. The resort where she had stayed was on the east side of the island, about two hours' slow drive through sloping, tree-lined roads leading downwards from hills where the Casa brooded in solitary isolation. As they neared civilization villas began appearing, pink and white-washed walls, gaily-tiled roofs, the inevitable swimming pools of sea-blue tiles set amidst pocket-sized gardens, each being tended by the languid but loving hands of old Spanish gardeners who saluted with a wide grin and a courteous wave everyone who passed. Carmen was thrilled to be included in the outing and she and Tio Garcia chatted non-stop until the chauffeur drove up the small palm-lined drive leading to the front of the hotel. They remained in the car while she collected her parcel, and she was just about to rejoin them when a voice hailed her in such familiar terms she halted in her tracks.