Hazel prayed desperately for help as she faced her inquisitor. Alone, she could not hope to hide the humiliation his words had aroused. Catryn had paved the way for his approach to the subject of an annulment, but even she had not pierced the facade of arrogance which shielded a conscience tender enough to coerce
him into guardianship of Carmen, a conscience which even now was uneasy at the thought of discarding a bride he suspected might have fallen in love with him.
From somewhere she found the strength to meet his challenge with upraised eyebrows and a scorn-tipped smile. "Hardly a change of heart," she murmured. "I'll admit to a moment of weakness that evening, but only a very slight one. After all, Francisco, a few glasses of champagne can make any woman forgetful and almost any man seem charming!"
A light was extinguished from behind his eyes; she saw its demise just before her glance dropped downwards to cling as if to a lifeline upon a monogrammed stud displayed darkly against a stark white cuff. He brooded down with mouth compressed to contain a muscle jerking spasmodically at its edge. "Are you implying you used wine as an antidote - a counter-irritant - against the loathing you felt for my company ?"
But for Catryn's warning Hazel might have believed hurt was buried deep amongst his words, might even have felt pity for the man whose pride she had so obviously offended, but being forearmed, she was able to recognize such signs as false pretensions adopted purely for the sake of convention. Suddenly she felt she could not endure the verbal skirmishing a moment longer. Francisco wanted Catryn and Catryn wanted him - only an unwanted bride stood in their way „ . .
"How soon can an annulment be arranged?" she blurted out, receiving small satisfaction from beating him to the subject. His head jerked up, obviously surprised that she had guessed what was in his mind, then a dark tide of colour rose under his tan, then
ebbed, leaving his face starkly unemotional, a mask of unfeeling granite. "How soon?" she pressed, piling self-inflicted torture upon her already overburdened emotions.
He took a long time to answer, but when he did she felt he was seeking to excuse his own behaviour. "Are you in love with Carstair?" he rasped. "Is that why you wish to be free - so that you can marry him?"
She closed her eyes to ease the agony of prickling eyelids, then because words were beyond her she nodded, dislodging tears that ran a scalding path down her cheeks. With a gentleness that wrung her heart, Francisco traced their path and caught on his fingertip a teardrop that remained trembling on her lashes. His hands slipped to her shoulders, to pull her forward, steadying her trembling body in his arms. Far above her head she heard him grate, "Whatever is in my power to give you shall have, amada, your future happiness is my greatest concern."
His sincerity was unbelievable, for one fleeting moment she felt it might almost be genuine . . . She was put from him as if the hands that held her found her hot to the touch and as he walked away she wondered at the dejection of the proud head. Guilt, she supposed, was the cause; if nothing else, the Marques de Drach was ever conscious of his obligations.
He was searching in the drawer of his desk and he straightened to send her a grave smile as he approached carrying an unusually shaped container. "Carmen's idea," he explained, pushing it into her hands, "a small gift to express remorse for my unreasonable temper,."
Hazel accepted the oval container, its surface showing an impression of many hands upon its covering of beige-coloured suede. A tiny gold latch invited investigation and when she prised it open he was by her side to hear her first reverent gasp.
Inside was an egg, shaped out of delicate enamel and set upon a stand of gold studded with diamonds. Decorating its surface were leaves of deep green jade enclosing stems of daisies, each starry petal a flawless white pearl, each heart a golden diamond bursting with light.
"A Faberge' easter egg," Francisco explained, "commissioned many years ago by an Emperor of Russia as a present for the Empress." Her huge wondering eyes lacked comprehension when he indicated a petal standing out fractionally from the rest, so he took her hand and guided her fingers until they rested upon the upraised pearl. "Press downward," he instructed, then allowed her to explore unaided.
Nervously she exerted pressure, almost afraid to touch the precious antique, and expelled a breath of delight when the top of the egg slid open to allow two curved branches to emerge with, on each, a tiny glass miniature frame. Carmen's merry eyes twinkled from one of the frames, but the other was empty. "The Empress chose a miniature of her husband to partner one of her eldest child," he told her dryly, leaving the blank aperture to speak for itself.
Hazel drew in a shuddering breath; the piece was so incredibly lovely that her eyes refused to be drawn from it, but the vacant space was indicative of the empty life she faced without him - not even a pictured likeness
was to help to fill the void his absence would leave in her heart.
"It must be priceless," she whispered, her lips too stiff to smile.
"It is," he agreed, watching her carefully, "but its purchase did not cost me quite all I possess - as Carmen suggested it should."
"You bought it? For me . . . ? But why? Surely not just to appease the whim of a child?"
"Not exactly," he hesitated, again lost for words. In that small space of time realization came. This was his way of rendering payment for her services! The money already settled upon her was enough to last her lifetime, but this gift was a bonus, a thank-you for departing from his life without fuss!
"I won't take it!" She barely recognized the hard voice as her own.
He drew back as if from a blow, then recovered with an effort that showed itself in a tightening of displeasure around a mouth that had resumed its usual arrogant tilt. When he glittered angrily she felt a bitter gladness that he had abandoned the sweet reason which had been tearing her nerves to shreds; she was used to battling with an autocratic marques and although her victories had been few she felt more competent to cope with anger than with melting tenderness. But she was not prepared for the aggravated grip upon her shoulders, nor for the shaking which he prolonged until she cried out for mercy.
"You ill-tempered beast!" she flared, sweeping unkempt strands of hair from her face in order to glare golden-eyed fury at her dark avenger.
"You denied any change of heart!" he clamped, "but there has been a change, although not the one I sought. I dislike intensely your cool, distant manner -never have you been so downright unapproachable!"
Unbearably goaded, she spat back, "You are inconsistent, senor! First you complain about my childishness, and now you reprove me for my maturity! So sorry I grew up without your permission!" she choked on her own daring, "but whether you like it or not, Carmen is the only child at the Casa now!"
Mercilessly she was held captive and when her lips moved to continue with her tirade Francisco's head swooped down to silence her with a hard, punishing kiss. She did not resist, but neither was it possible to respond to the stamp of anger upon her mouth. He lifted his head and smiled the smile of El Diablo while he raked her slender shape with contempt. Scornfully, he flicked a casual finger along the neckline of her dress.
"Take it off, nina" he jeered, goaded once more into cruelty. Grim amusement showed when she shied away, and she felt like a child being reprimanded for preco-ciousness when he put the seal upon her humiliation by decreeing, "Grown up though you profess to be, you are not yet ready to fulfil the promise this dress was designed to offer!"
CHAPTER XIV
Francisco decided his business trip to Formentor could be postponed no longer, so next day he left early with Tio Garcia, who had decided to accompany him on the journey. Carmen had not been to the caves and surprisingly Catryn offered to take her. They were in the breakfast salon, lingering over a final cup of coffee while they decided what to do to fill in the suddenly empty day.
"Can we go to the Caves, Hazel?" Carmen coaxed gently, reluctant to intrude upon the privacy of one whose thoughts were obviously far away.
Hazel's brow puckered; her own visit to the caves had been made immeasurably more enjoyable because she had been in the company of only one other person, whereas visiting today would mean shuffling slowly along behind a queue of camera-happy tourists whose popping flashbulbs might spoil for ever her memories of that first enchanting visit. Reading refusal in her frown, Catryn stepped in with the suggestion.
"A party from my hotel is to tour the caves later today, and I've been commissioned to escort them. If you like, you can meet me in Porto Cristo and Carmen can join our excursion while you enjoy a wander around the shops."
It was too good an offer to refuse, but even so Hazel hesitated; Catryn extended herself only to further her own ends, and while there seemed to be no underlying
motive behind her suggestion, suspicion nagged. The decision was taken out of her hands however, when Carmen squealed, "Oh, yes, please - if I have to wait another day to see the blue lagoon I'll die!"
When Catryn drove back to the hotel to resume her duties the time and place of their meeting had been satisfactorily arranged. Hazel and Carmen were to pick up a bus for Porto Cristo which ran regularly along the road outside the Casa. As Catryn's party were to join the last tour of the day, late in the afternoon, Hazel decided to pack a picnic lunch and catch an early bus so that they would have plenty of time to explore the pleasant little town she had first visited with Robin. It was a hot, dusty, bus ride made enjoyable by the pleasantries of local villagers who made plain the honour they felt at having the Marques's wife and niece sharing their ride. Carmen chatted to all and sundry, explaining in detail about the outing in store and listening avidly as tales of adventure arising around the mysterious caves were recounted by the superstitious campesinos. When the bus finally reached Porto Cristo they bade reluctant farewell to the friendly villagers and made their way down to the harbour where they ate their picnic lunch before idling away the hours remaining watching fishing boats jockeying for position in the crowded harbour; envying the fortunate yacht owners their enjoyment of skimming coolly across lapping blue sea, and counting the seabirds that swooped and hovered over the offerings they salvaged from the remains in their lunch basket.
They were perched on the sea wall with the bustling town square behind them when Hazel glanced across
her shoulder and saw a coach with the name of Catryn's firm emblazoned upon its sides. "Gracious," she checked her watch, "Catryn's here already! Come along, darling, we mustn't keep her waiting!" She half-smiled as she sensed the drag of Carmen's feet, guessing that given half an excuse the child would change her mind, but no protest was voiced nor encouraged and she handed her over into Catryn's charge. As she watched the small figure trailing disconsolately in the wake of a crocodile of voluble tourists Hazel almost called her back, but the temptation was overcome by a desire more powerful, one which had fought for recognition all day - a desire for solitude in which to think, to plan, and perhaps even to cry a little . . .
Slowly she made her way back to the harbour to a spot sheltered by coils of rope which would protect her from the eyes of curious passers-by. Directly in front of her, on the opposite side of the harbour, was the yacht club where Robin had taken her for lunch and down below, bobbing impatiently on the water, she recognized the boat he had borrowed to make even more perfect an already perfect day. How, she mused, had Robin reacted to Francisco's brand of wild justice ? Probably in the same way she herself reacted to his arrogance - with impotent anger, despair even, knowing no one yet had ever managed to penetrate the hard shell with which he was surrounded.
Tears pricked her eyelids as she wondered how Carmen would fare under Catryn's care. Probably, she gasped back a sob, the threat of sending her to convent school which, when it had suited his purpose, he had
unscrupulously used as blackmail, would become reality once Catryn was installed at the Casa. She wanted to hate him, but she could not, not when she considered the many others who had fallen under the spell of Catryn's beauty. Since childhood she had stood in her shadow, tongue-tied by her wit, admiring of her vivacity, but frightened of the flail of her cruel tongue. Quite suddenly, there on the sea wall, she made up her mind. Carmen's happiness must not be ruined nor her childhood spoiled - with or without Francisco's permission, she would take the child with her when she left!
Some of her incredible burden of unhappiness was lifted by the decision and her steps were fractionally lighter when an hour later she made her way towards the gardens where flowers bloomed and peacocks strutted before the bemused, dazzled crowd just beginning to make its way out of the cool underworld of caverns. Hazel waited, half-smiling, expecting at any moment to hear Carmen's voice call her by name, but the crowd gradually thinned as one by one the coaches pulled away until only Catryn's was left standing, its occupants all seated, an impatient driver honking madly on the horn. With a feeling of unease, she started towards the massive wooden door which marked the exit. As she began descending the slope leading into the caves panic quickened her steps so that she was almost running when Catryn appeared out of the darkness and made to swing shut the door, obviously intending to lock it with the huge key she was holding in her hand.
"Where's Carmen?" Hazel gasped. "I've been
waiting ages and I know she hasn't passed me!"
"Are you sure?" Catryn frowned. "The little devil slipped out of my clutches when we were only halfway through, but I didn't worry because I felt sure she'd tagged along with some of the other children." When Hazel stared in horror-stricken silence she bit her lip and looked apologetic. "Look, you go inside the caves and give a shout, if she's still in there she'll come running. Meanwhile, I'll check with my party and find out whether anyone remembers seeing her. Don't worry, we'll probably find her sitting in the coach!"
Hazel did not wait to tell her what she thought of her negligence, but ran past her into the tunnel of darkness. As she stumbled forward towards the first of the illuminated caves she drew in a deep breath and prepared to call Carmen's name, then just as the first syllable was about to leave her lips a curtain of darkness descended. She swung round, riveted to the spot, when a bang reverberated through the black veil of silence, then ominous waves of warning chased up her spine as she recognized it for what it was - the crash of a huge wooden door cutting off her escape into the outside world!
For an aeon of time she stood rigid in the darkness, hoping that whoever had inadvertently locked her in would be informed of her presence and return, but there was no sound other than the steady drip of water falling from a distant height into a nearby pool, and the sigh of a chilling breeze spiralling upwards to the vaulted roof. Rustles and creaks set her quivering; they might have been made by the movements of small animals or the awakening of entombed souls.
"Don't panic," she encouraged herself aloud. "Think, girl, think! Have you a torch? No. Matches, then ?" She grovelled in her handbag and felt enormous relief when a box yielded to her searching fingers. She was trembling so much she could barely manage to scratch one alight, but when she did she felt complete darkness was preferable to eerie shadows thrown by formations of misshapen stone. At least her feet were planted firmly in the middle of the path, that much she registered before the flame flickered and died.
Cautiously, she turned and began retracing her steps. Somewhere near the exit was the master switch; if she could find it and switch on the lights her predicament would become so much more bearable. Inch by inch she faltered her way ahead, fighting hysterical fear by reasoning aloud in firmly controlled tones, "The path should begin to rise somewhere about here, then there'll be steps - about fourteen, if I remember correctly - and after that the switch which should be about halfway up the wall to the right - no, the left, now I'm facing in an opposite direction." Sweat began trickling between her shoulder blades, progress was very slow, she ought to have reached the steps by now but the darkness was so deceiving . ..
A loose stone was dislodged by her foot and went rolling downwards in front of her. She stopped sudden
ly and leant against a wall, thinking furiously. If she was on an incline the stone should have rolled backward! A precious match was sacrificed to enable her to find her bearings and when its flare lit her path terror and hopelessness made mockery of attempted optimism. She was lost. Somehow, she had wandered from the
path leading towards the exit and in front of her was nothing but stone and water, caverns as ancient as time, and water which for all she knew might have begun an insidious creep upwards to a higher level. She had to exercise great control to prevent herself from screaming. Obviously what was needed was a plan of action! The temperature of the air was not very low but still low enough to cause her a chill if she sat immobile. Carefully she rummaged through her bag and found a piece of chalk Carmen had deposited there earlier. She held it lightly in her fingers and began moving slowly forward, tracing it over the surface of the wall as she passed. Some time soon someone would be bound to instigate a search, and when they did arrive it would help if they had a trail to follow.
She plodded on for what seemed miles sometimes plunging into invisible puddles of water, sometimes bumping into sharp pins and spires of rock, and occasionally descending to depths where even the atmosphere felt strange. But she forged on, hoping that ahead there might be an opening leading into blessed freedom, but as time passed she began to experience hunger and thirst, and a weariness so great she was finally driven to rest. There were only four matches left in the box and she used one to search for a resting place. A thrill of horror left her sweating when by its light she saw the sheen of water. The path had narrowed until it was no more than a ledge running along a wall of crumbling rock; a veer to the left would have plunged her into a pool of deep silence!
Hazel slid to the ground, too exhausted to continue further and too frightened to even pretend bravery.
How much longer before help came? Her only consolation was the fact that Carmen was obviously not in the caves, she must have slipped past unnoticed in the crowd. But she had surely been found ? Why, then, hadn't Catryn returned to the caves immediately with the news ? Her heart, numbed through it was, skipped a beat. What if, as a result of some dreadful misunderstanding, she were to be left in the caves all night? The water was salty, thirst had driven her into dipping a hand into the pool, but she had had to spit out the moisture licked from dripping fingers. Chill was striking through her flimsy cotton slacks and a light cardigan offered little protection for arms left bare by a sleeveless sun top. Stiffly, she moved position and winced as sharp needles of rock pierced her flesh. She had shouted until her throat rasped sore, vaguely hoping someone about might hear her calls for help, but her cries had echoed mockingly, bouncing through the caverns and reverberating against high walls, returning like boomerangs to their place of rest. She had no way of knowing if it was still daylight, twice she had lost consciousness and the blessed periods of oblivion could have lasted for hours or even days. She was in a void of darkness and time, wherein nothing seemed to matter -not even Francisco's cruel desertion. Lightheaded, she moaned, the sound so faint it barely penetrated her lips. Perhaps he would consider her accident providential, it would at least prevent scandal if instead of being publicly discarded she should obligingly die . . .
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