The House of Adriano

by Nerina Hilliard

  Aileen stiffened at the mocking note in his voice, but managed to reply with a careless shrug.

  “I couldn’t sleep ... so I thought I would take a walk.”

  “Alone?” The moonlight was brilliant enough for her to detect an unreadable glint in the dark eyes. “Moonlight, a garden and a beautiful girl ... alone. Surely it would have been a waste.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she managed to reply as carelessly as before, although she was aware of a strange inner tumult. It must be this dratted moonlight making everything seem so different. “As you remarked a moment ago, I’m career-minded.” She determined to pass over his remark about her being beautiful. She knew she was normally attractive, but did not consider that she was anything out of the ordinary.

  “But I begin to wonder now whether you are as career-minded as you would have us believe,” he went on pensively. “There needs to be a certain hardness, and that I have not detected in you.”

  “Not necessarily,” Aileen argued. “I’ve met plenty of women, older than myself, who have been following a career for years and years, and they hadn’t grown hard. It depends a lot on your state of mind, I think. If you are one of the girls who badly want to get married and marriage passes you by, then probably you might get hard about it, but if you have remained single through choice I don’t see that there is anything to cause you to become hard.”

  “Perhaps.” But his voice was quite enigmatic and gave no hint of whether or not he agreed with her - most probably not. “I wonder what you would do if love came into this very independent life of yours?”

  These Spaniards with their pigheaded notion that love was the only thing in a woman’s life! She might believe more or less the same thing herself, but she was darned if she was going to admit it to him.

  “I don’t see any need to fall in love unless you want to.”

  “Gran cielo!’ He laughed, and this time she could not decide whether it was mocking or not. “Tonight I hear things to amaze me. So you think love can be controlled. Can one put out a fire?”

  “Easily,” she retorted. “A good dousing of water will always do that.”

  She had the uneasy feeling that he was leading her somewhere, but could see neither the direction nor the destination and just had to feel her way. She was not sure if she herself believed in some of her answers. Could you really control love? She had never been in love, but she had seen its impact on other people and sometimes it was startling. Even the most hardheaded and invulnerable fell a victim to it.

  “You twist my words,” he countered. “I am talking about the fires of love.”

  I wish you wouldn’t, she said to herself. He was apparently in one of his dissecting moods. She did not know whether to continue to try to counter his probing or say something which would make him retire into his Conde de Marindos shell. She was a little wary of doing that, though. Duarte Adriano, the man, might be completely charming and completely infuriating by turns, but the Conde de Marindos could be positively chilling, making one feel like a small and naughty child.

  “I think these so-called fires of love are rather overrated. I’m sure they don’t make you lose complete control of yourself.”

  She could not help feeling that her voice sounded almost childish, even prim, and was not really surprised when he laughed again and the mocking undertone came back into his voice.

  “It is easy to see that you know nothing about love.”

  “Are you a connoisseur on the subject, senor?” This was perhaps a dangerous challenge, but the words had slipped out almost of their own accord. In any case, as she had come to the conclusion once before, although he might for some passing fancy delight in verbally tilting at her independence, he would still not forget who he was.

  “No man is a connoisseur.” He moved slightly, leaning against the wall and looking down at her. It could have been a most close and uncomfortable scrutiny had it been daylight, and she was glad that the moonlight did not reveal expressions too clearly.

  “I suppose not ... nor any woman.” That sounded rather banal, so she simulated a yawn, deciding it was time she returned to her room. “I think I really am sleepy now. I’d better go back.”

  He came back with her, walking at her side, and she found there was something oddly disturbing in having him so near to her, his fingers lightly beneath her elbow, in case she should trip on the flagged path.

  Inside the little vestibule she wished him a quick goodnight and almost ran up the stairs, feeling rather breathless, but that of course was due to having gone upstairs so quickly. Nevertheless, it did not account for a peculiarly unsettled feeling. Lying on her back, her hands clasped behind her head and the moonlight streaming across her bed, she wondered what the feeling was ... of something creeping up on her ... something frightening and yet oddly exciting.

  CHAPTER VIII

  Aileen always made a point of going to Dona Teresa’s room in the mornings, to see if there was anything she could get her, and this morning the older woman was sitting up in bed reading some letters when she entered. Her skin looked wrinkled, yet at the same time almost girlishly fresh, and her dark eyes were brilliant. She might be old, but she still had an excellent grip on life.

  She dropped the letter she had been reading and smiled across at the girl.

  “You enjoyed the party?”

  Aileen nodded. “It was wonderful.”

  “Good.” She patted Aileen’s hand gently. “I like having you here, my child. We must see that you do not want to run away.”

  “Thank you. I like being here. I wish I could do more, though.” She shook her head, looking worried. “I feel as if I’m not really earning my salary. I have far too much free time.”

  “Nonsense! When one is young one appreciates having free time. I do not know how you could bear to be shut up in an office all day.”

  Aileen smiled. “It was a case of necessity. I had to earn my own living. I think people last night got the idea that I was just doing it for fun.”

  “Then it is good that now you have more time to enjoy life.”

  “But that’s not the point. I wish I could do more.”

  Dona Teresa smiled almost mischievously. “You can keep Manola out of my hair,” she said, bringing out the slang term with delightful relish. “It is not her fault, I know - but she bores me. I like someone I can talk to about serious things,” and she thereupon completely astounded Aileen by launching into a discussion on politics, then having given her opinion of how the world’s affairs could be settled, swung entirely away from the subject and asked with startling suddenness, “Do you like Alesandra?”

  Aileen hesitated. It was one thing to discuss the Spanish girl with Bart, but an entirely different matter to do so with Dona Teresa, when the girl would probably be marrying her nephew.

  Dona Teresa smiled again, with the same impishness. “I do not like her myself, so you may be quite truthful in your answer.” She laughed as Aileen’s expression apparently gave her away. “Ah ... so you do not like her either.”

  “Well ... it’s not exactly...” She broke off, hesitating again, still reluctant to admit it. After all, there was no real reason for her dislike. She had met the girl only the evening before and there had not been a single rude or discourteous word between them. If anything, Alesandra had been all smiling sweetness - and beneath it that sense of antagonism.

  “It is that exactly,” Dona Teresa corrected. “And I think you sensed that she does not like you either.”

  Aileen gave her a startled glance at that. “You sensed that too?”

  “The old sense these things ... even more so than the young, I believe.”

  “But why should she be antagonistic towards me? Come to that, why should I dislike her?” Aileen asked, a little puzzled.

  “Don’t you know?” She paused, seemed about to say something, but frowned and apparently changed her mind. “Perhaps it is just a case of one of those instinctive antagonisms.”

 
; “You mean two people just meet and dislike each other?” That was how it had been between Duarte and herself - or at least that was how it had been on her part. She did not imagine that Duarte felt strongly enough about it actively to dislike her. She had probably annoyed him because she had had the temerity to stand up against his plans for Peter, but as for any active dislike that implied a personal interest and outside of an occasional desire to while away the time by a few jabs at her apparent career-mindedness, she was quite sure he was totally indifferent to her or how she felt about him. She was just the encumbrance which had unfortunately had to be brought along with Peter.

  “Perhaps it was just that instinctive antagonism,” Dona Teresa said slowly. “Or perhaps it was something else ... something quite different.”

  “In what way?”

  “She knows, I think, that I do not care too much for her. Perhaps she fears that I may favour you more.” A bright, birdlike glance slanted towards her. “You do not think that may be the answer?”

  “I don’t quite understand.” Again Aileen looked puzzled. “I’m glad you like me,” she added with a smile, “but I don’t see how that could affect Alesandra.”

  “Don’t you?” Dona Teresa gave an enigmatic little smile. “Alesandra hopes to marry my nephew.”

  “I still don’t...” Then she paused, the astounding meaning breaking in on her mind. “You ... you mean ...?” She could not finish it, because it was so utterly fantastic and would be even more so put into words.

  “Precisely. She may fear that I would favour a match between you and Duarte.” Again that bright, birdlike glance was slanted towards her. “Absurd, isn’t it?”

  “Yes ... yes, of course. Completely absurd,” Aileen said rather disjointedly. “We don’t even like each other.”

  Yet some odd kind of stinging pain was lancing through her and there was startled confusion in her mind. It was completely absurd and a short time ago it would probably have made her furious, that anyone should think such a thing, but now ... well, it did not make her furious. She did not know quite what the feeling was that came to her.

  Dona Teresa patted her hand again. “You must not let Alesandra’s dislike worry you. She is just a silly child. And now run along and enjoy the sunlight before it becomes too hot. I think I shall rest for a while.”

  She settled down on her pillows, and Aileen went slowly from the room, trying to sort out the turmoil inside her. She certainly would not have wanted anything like that to happen, but it hurt that Dona Teresa, even though she said she liked her, should remark that such a situation was completely absurd. That was she told herself. That little hurt was what had caused the strange feelings that had come to her - and probably also after-effects from the party and the late night, she reasoned eventually, and went along to the schoolroom, instead of out into the sunlight as Dona Teresa had instructed, collecting Peter on the way.

  “Buenos dias,” he greeted her with his infectious grin. “This is a silly language. Why can’t they speak English?”

  “Because it’s Spain,” she retorted. “And don’t let your uncle hear you call it silly. It’s his language and I’m sure he thinks it’s the best one there is.”

  She had not known what to instruct the boy to call Duarte, but had compromised on uncle, even though it was not really that relationship. Eric and Duarte had been cousins and that made Peter ... what? She had never been able to work out those complicated cousin-relationships.

  Peter looked up at her with his head on one side. “He’s not so bad after all, is he? I didn’t like him when I thought he was going to take you away from me, but it’s all right now.”

  “No ... he’s not so bad really,” Aileen agreed slowly, and was surprised to find that she really meant it. After all, he had allowed her to come over here with Peter, when he could quite easily, as his legal guardian, have refused to let her have any further contact with the boy, especially after the way she had acted.

  They went along to the schoolroom together and the young tutor greeted them with his shy smile. Aileen remained there for the Spanish lesson, then left Peter and went back to her own rooms. When she reached them, a surprise awaited her. In one corner of her sitting room was a new addition, a small cabinet of some glossy amber-coloured wood, and her radio had been moved along slightly so that the power point was between them. Intrigued, she opened the cabinet and on the first shelf found a silver tray, with a teapot and electric kettle, also of silver, and a fragile little tea service. On the next shelf were tea things and a sealed box of imported English biscuits.

  As she stood looking at them, surprised and delighted, a remark Dona Teresa had passed some days ago flashed through her mind, a half joking remark that probably she missed her cups of tea. She had denied it and said she had always liked coffee also - and now Dona Teresa must have arranged this for her, sensing perhaps that she had not quite spoken the truth when she had declared she liked coffee just as much as tea.

  On an impulse she went quickly along to Dona Teresa’s room, but with her hand uplifted to tap on the door, she paused. The older woman might be sleeping and she did not want to disturb her. Thanks would just have to wait until later.

  She went back to her room and, with a feeling of pleasant anticipation, made herself the first cup of tea she had tasted since leaving Australia. It was delicious, and the affection that had grown up for Dona Teresa took another leap upwards. Bless her, arranging this little surprise and not mentioning a word about it this morning. The cabinet must have been moved into the room while she was actually with Dona Teresa, or during the time she had been with Peter in the schoolroom.

  She finished her tea and was wondering what she should do with the remains when Vanetta knocked and came in. She smiled when she saw that the contents of the cabinet had already been used and said something quickly in Spanish, then repeated it more slowly.

  “The senor said that I was to tell you that when the new cabinet was used, I would take the things away and have them washed.”

  Aileen’s Spanish had advanced enough to be able to just about understand her.

  “The senor?” A little suspicion began to creep in at the back of her mind. Suppose it had not been Dona Teresa...? “You mean the ... Senor Adriano knew the cabinet was here?”

  “But of course. He ordered that it should be brought here.” Aileen bit her lip and remembered now that Duarte had also been in the room at the time the remark about the tea had been made, and she felt a little ashamed of herself for not for one moment crediting him with the thoughtfulness of having had the cabinet brought there.

  “I see.” She paused for a moment and then nodded towards the tray. “You can take them now if you like.” As Vanetta picked up the tray, she added, “Is Senor Adriano at home?”

  “No, senorita. He went out early.”

  After the girl had gone, Aileen walked slowly over to the doors that led out on to the balcony and stood looking down into the patio. So Duarte had been the one ... and perhaps she had been mistaken in more than just that one instance of thoughtfulness. Perhaps he had all along even intended to offer her the chance of coming out here with Peter, before she had run away, and he had been so much without vindictiveness that he had not even changed his mind after she had caused him so much trouble. Of course he might not have intended it right from the beginning, but it was still possible that the antagonism that had been born in her before she even knew who he was had made her run away before she had perhaps found out the full extent of what he intended.

  It was almost lunchtime before he returned, and Aileen had just come downstairs after spending most of the morning studying her Spanish lessons. She caught sight of him from the open door of one of the salons and tapped hesitantly on the door. He turned instantly, coming towards her.

  “Could I speak to you for a moment, Senor?”

  “But of course.”

  He escorted her to a chair with the instinctive courtesy that seemed so much a part of him, as unconscious a
nd natural as if he had been born with it, asking if there was anything she required. This morning he was urbane and charming, with no sign of the slightly mocking note she sometimes heard in his voice.

  She shook her head. “Actually, it’s the other way round. I came to thank you for the tea things.”

  He dismissed it with a little shrug. “It was nothing. We must make you comfortable while you are here.” A glimmer of a smile came into the very dark eyes. “What have you been doing with your morning? It has not been lonely or boring for you?”

  She could not help smiling back. Bart’s grin might be infectious, but there was something about Duarte’s smile that was ... well, different somehow.

  “I’ve been studying Spanish.”

  “So?” He switched to his own language. “But perhaps it is not an exciting way to spend a morning.”

  “I thought it was necessary, though,” she replied carefully in the same language.

  He smiled again. “You are acquiring a good accent.”

  “Thank you, senor.”

  “You acquire our language.” He looked at her just a little speculatively. “I wonder if you will eventually acquire our customs,” he added, returning to English.

  “Doesn’t that depend on how long I’m out here?” After the arrival of that cabinet in her room, it was hardly the time to make any remarks about independence.

  “You are not thinking of leaving yet, I hope?”

  “Of course not.” She paused and then added tentatively, “But we never did discuss how long I am to stay out here, did we?”

  “No,” he agreed, “but I think it is a matter that can still be left for some future discussion.”

  Since she did not want to have to face any definite date for departure she readily agreed, yet she could not help thinking about it. When she had first accepted the position of some sort of unofficial nurse or companion for Peter she had not really looked too far into the future, content just to accept that she would not be parted from him ... not for the time being. Now she began to look at the position more fully.