Fallen Angel

by Anne Mather

  Alexandra caught her breath at the glittering fire of his eyes. ‘If—if you want me to,’ she ventured chokingly, but he flung her hands from him with such force that she almost fell.

  ‘You—are—a—menace!’ he grated, enunciating each word with heavy significance. ‘Do you know that? Oh, go on—get out of here. I’ll do it myself.’

  ‘But, Jason—’

  ‘I said go!’

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Will you—will you still take me to Puerta Nova?’ she ventured, as he regarded her without liking.

  ‘Puerto Novo,’ he corrected irritably. Then, with a harsh exclamation he nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, I’ll take you. And Miss Holland, too, if she’d like to come.’

  ‘Miss Holland?’

  Alexandra couldn’t hide her dismay, but Jason’s hand in the small of her back propelled her purposefully towards the door. ‘Yes, Miss Holland,’ he agreed. ‘Ask her!’ And she had no alternative but to obey.

  In the doorway, however, his voice stopped her, and she turned eagerly, her spirits lifting, sure he had changed his mind.

  But his expression was not encouraging, and his: ‘Put some clothes on before you ask her, won’t you?’ was not what she wanted to hear. Cheeks burning, she walked quickly back to her room.

  * * *

  Puerto Novo was a small town, situated in the mountains, midway between Valvedra and Montesanto, the western state capital. It was accessible from the coast by the railway that had been built many years before, and Jason explained that it was from here that his beef cattle began their journey east. It was half a day’s journey from San Gabriel, through some of the most rugged scenery Alexandra had ever seen, but again she was in the back of the Range-Rover and at the mercy of every pothole in the road.

  Miss Holland had chosen to join them after all. Privately, Alexandra didn’t blame her not wanting to spend the day in Estelita’s company, particularly as the housekeeper had made no secret of her dislike of the arrangement. Not that she had actually said anything in Alexandra’s presence, but the malevolent looks she cast in Jason’s direction were enough, signifying as they did the words that had passed between them.

  Apart from holding his arm a little stiffly, Jason showed no sign of his injury, but Alexandra couldn’t help but notice how the muscles in his face tautened when they bumped over a particularly rough patch of ground. She was concerned about the dangers of infection in an area like this, but she refrained from voicing her opinion in Miss Holland’s company.

  For the most part, Jason spoke to Miss Holland during the journey, inviting her opinion of the estancia, encouraging her to air any grievances she might be feeling. Was her room comfortable? Was the food to her liking? Did she think she would get used to the remoteness and the isolation?

  Miss Holland was reticent. Her room was very pleasant, she said, and the bed was extremely comfortable. But the food was obviously very different from what she was used to, and so far as the remoteness and isolation were concerned, she hadn’t yet had the time to come to any decision.

  ‘I’m hoping Alexandra and I will get about a little more freely when she has mastered the art of riding,’ she said, causing the girl’s lips to part in astonishment, and even Jason glanced at her a trifle disbelievingly.

  ‘You—ride, Miss Holland?’ he asked politely, and she nodded.

  ‘Reasonably well,’ she agreed. ‘When I was tutoring Lord Carleon’s children, we spent a considerable amount of time at his estate in Ireland. Naturally, the children learned to ride, it was expected of them, and I accompanied them.’

  Jason uttered an amused chuckle. ‘Well, well! Hidden talents. My apologies, Miss Holland. I should have known a little thing like sitting a horse wouldn’t be beyond your capabilities.’ He glanced round at his ward, sitting in glum incredulity in the back. ‘Do you hear that, Alexandra? You and Ricardo will have companionship on your outings. I shan’t need to feel that I’m neglecting you, if Miss Holland is along.’

  Alexandra said nothing, but the challenge in her gold-fringed violet eyes did not go unobserved. However, Jason seemed more interested in finding out more about his unusual middle-aged companion, and for the rest of the journey Alexandra viewed the scenery with a slightly jaundiced eye. She had expected she and Jason would take rides together. She had looked forward to him showing her over the estancia. But now, it seemed, they would have Miss Holland’s company, too, and like today, Alexandra would be pushed into the background. The fact that this wasn’t strictly true, that Alexandra herself had suggested Miss Holland should sit in front, was forgotten. Instead, she stared gloomily out on to rolling plateaux and mountain peaks which had somehow lost their appeal.

  Puerto Novo was quite a busy metropolis. As they neared the town, they passed more houses and homesteads, and there was a little traffic on the road, including some of the ox-drawn carts that Alexandra had found so picturesque in the outlying villages surrounding Valvedra. The carts were piled high with fruit and vegetables, no doubt bound for the market, and her mouth watered at the sight of huge peaches, downy-soft and juicy, bouncing along beside oranges and melons, and luscious bunches of grapes.

  The town itself was situated round a square where the parish church of St Cecilia faced the municipal buildings. The church itself dated from the eighteenth century, Jason told them after he had parked the Range-Rover in a street close by, and he recommended a visit if they had the time.

  But it was almost lunchtime, and he suggested they had a meal in the hotel before going about their separate pursuits. Alexandra, who had expected to stay with him, suppressed the protest that rose to her lips at this information, and was unusually silent over the meal of asado criollo, barbecued meat, which was served with a delicious side salad. She refused anything but fruit to finish, and watched without amusement as Miss Holland ploughed her way through a particularly sticky pastry, coated with raisins and sugar. They drank mate, the local tea, and Jason smoked one of his long cigars, and then he suggested the ‘ladies’ might like to go shopping while he completed his business.

  ‘Does that appeal to you, Alexandra?’ asked Miss Holland, turning to her charge, but Alexandra only shrugged. The question was largely academic anyway, as her opinion was not consulted with any real purpose, and she refused to respond to the warning impatience in Jason’s expression.

  ‘Is that what you want to do, Alexandra?’ he asked, virtually repeating Miss Holland’s words, and she raised her shoulders in a gesture of indifference.

  ‘Whatever you arrange,’ she said, with pointed candour, and he thrust his hands into the pockets of his pants, as if not trusting himself not to shake her.

  ‘I want to go to the bank, and there are various men I have to see,’ he said, speaking through his teeth, for her benefit alone. ‘Now if you think standing around listening to me arguing about my overdraft, or discussing the trade in hides, is more interesting than spending a couple of hours looking round the shops—’

  ‘I do!’ she declared, overriding him. ‘I’m not an inveterate window-shopper. I only go shopping if there’s something I want to buy.’

  Jason’s frustration was evident. ‘Well, you can’t come with me,’ he averred harshly. ‘At the risk of sounding pompous, my business affairs are private. I don’t want you butting in.’

  ‘You do sound pompous!’ retorted Alexandra, hiding the hurt in her voice. ‘Pompous and—and dull! I don’t want to listen to your stupid old private affairs. I wouldn’t know what you were talking about anyway, would I?’

  ‘Then you’ll go with Miss Holland, and accompany her on her shopping trip,’ commanded Jason coldly, his patience shredding. ‘I’ll see you both back here at four o’clock!’ And he strode away before she could make any further objections.

  After he had gone there was an unpleasant silence for a few moments, then Miss Holland said: ‘That was rather childish, wasn’t it, Alexandra? What on earth possessed you to speak to Mr Tarrant like that?’

  Realis
ing Miss Holland was unaware of the development of their relationship, Alexandra sighed. After all, it was hardly the woman’s fault if Jason chose to behave as if she was some annoying child throwing a temper tantrum. And it had been childish to behave as she had, she knew that. But—dear God! he made her act that way, behaving as if she was incapable of looking after herself.

  It seemed that every time she and Jason came to words, she lost the battle. She didn’t have his experience, of course, and he could always patronise her. But there were times when she sensed he enjoyed her company—and resented it. It was as if he had constantly to remind himself that she was only seventeen—well, nearly eighteen, she amended, remembering it was only four months to her birthday. Or maybe she was completely wrong. Maybe he only acted that way sometimes. Was he acting on the occasions when he was nice to her, and not on the occasions when he was brutal? One thing was certain, he had the almost exclusive ability to hurt her, and used it, indiscriminately.

  Miss Holland was still waiting for a reply, and pulling herself together with an effort, Alexandra made a moue with her lips. ‘He—annoys me,’ she said lamely. ‘I didn’t realise he was bringing us here to abandon us.’

  Miss Holland clicked her tongue. ‘My dear child, a man with Mr Tarrant’s responsibilities can’t be expected to take time off to entertain us. You have to remember that we’re the outsiders here, that without your father’s intervention, you wouldn’t even be in Mr Tarrant’s care. I think his taking it upon himself to place you in his personal care until your eighteenth birthday is commendable, but you mustn’t expect too much of him. He has his own life to lead, and we must just—fit ourselves to his plans.’

  The words Alexandra would have liked to have offered in response to that little speech trembled on her tongue, but she was learning caution. Behaving like a shrew was not going to achieve anything. And yet submitting to his admonitions as if they were unworthy of contradiction was totally alien to her beliefs. At the convent, she had been taught that the truth was all, that telling lies or dissembling was wrong. Yet already she had learned that being honest earned one a reputation for childishness, and showing her feelings had aroused anger and impatience.

  In the event, the afternoon passed quite pleasantly. Miss Holland was soon bored with the limitations of shopping on the Avenida Central, and instead, they explored the gardens of the memorial erected to a famous freedom fighter, and visited the church. The screens that flanked the altar were exquisitely painted, and there were real gems in the robes of the Virgin, whose statue dominated the Lady Chapel. Saint Cecilia herself was depicted in the panes of the stained-glass windows that distributed the sun’s rays in multi-faceted colours across polished wooden pews.

  Jason was already waiting for them when they arrived back at the hotel. He had ordered tea, and listened with interest while Miss Holland described their afternoon. Alexandra said little, but she did observe that he was holding his arm more stiffly, and unable to prevent the words, asked how it was.

  Miss Holland looked surprised at the question, unaware as she was of the injury, and Jason’s mouth turned down at the comers as he admitted that he had seen a doctor and had a couple of jabs. Alexandra, feeling justifiably relieved, couldn’t prevent a smug smile from appearing on her lips as he explained to Miss Holland what had happened.

  ‘My goodness!’ she exclaimed, pressing her lace handkerchief to her lips. ‘You could have been killed!’

  ‘Hardly,’ remarked Jason dryly. ‘Alexandra exaggerates its importance. It’s only a scratch. I stood more danger from the infection than from the wound itself.’

  ‘Even so…’ Miss Holland shook her head, and Alexandra faced him with defiant eyes. After all, he had seen a doctor, as she had suggested, and that proved something, didn’t it?

  The journey back to San Gabriel was more hairy than the outward journey had been. For one thing, shadows were lengthening, casting veils of shade across the road, and the winking sensation of the sun darting at them between the leaves of the trees had a stroboscope effect. For another, Jason drove more swiftly, not taking his time as he had on the way to Puerto Novo, so that they could enjoy the scenery. It was growing late, and he wanted to get back before total darkness engulfed them. Alexandra could understand that. She had already experienced how total that darkness could be. Nevertheless, she wished she could forget the fact that in places the road skirted stark ravines and precipices, a narrow track winding its precarious way through the mountains.

  Both she and Miss Holland breathed a sigh of relief when the lights of the hacienda became visible ahead of them, and Alexandra leant forward in her seat for the last few minutes, surprised at the sense of homecoming she felt. Her arm rested companionably on Jason’s shoulder and this time he didn’t draw away, a fact which made her wish they had more than just a few hundred yards to go.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MISS HOLLAND wore jodhpurs for riding, uncomfortably heavy breeches, that looked totally out of place in such surroundings. She also insisted on wearing a riding hat, instead of the sombrero Ricardo offered, and her appearance was not unreminiscent of the final days of the Indian Raj. Nevertheless, her ability could not be faulted, and the protection afforded by the helmet was undeniable. She became quite a well-known figure about the estancia, and the men called her La Mula, because she was so stubborn. Not that she seemed to object. She had their reluctant respect, too, and the men had names for all of them. Alexandra was always referred to as La Niña, and while she didn’t care for the childish overtones, she knew it was a form of endearment.

  Ricardo mounted Miss Holland on a grey gelding, and Alexandra graduated to a chestnut mare, several hands taller than Placida. She found the more she rode, the more confidence she gained, and during the week that followed the three of them ventured further and further afield. Surprisingly, after their initial antagonism was spent, Miss Holland and Ricardo became quite good friends, his derision giving way to admiration as she proved the horsewoman she was.

  During these days Alexandra saw next to nothing of Jason. He spent most of the day out of the house, and after supper in the evening, he retired to his study to continue working. He worked hard, she acknowledged that, as hard as any of the men he employed, and involved himself in every aspect of the running of the estancia. Because he was an engineer, he had been able to put his technical skills to good use, and Ricardo had told them how he had installed the plumbing system at the house himself. He had also dug new wells to replace the dried-up waterholes used by the cattle, and consequently a long dry spell no longer meant animals dying of thirst, and enabled them to increase their numbers.

  The estancia itself was huge. Alexandra believed Ricardo when he said it took several days to ride around the outer boundaries of the property, and how, at the yearly round-up, the men were forced to sleep rough during the long trail. She thought she would like to sleep rough, under the stars, making supper over the campfire. It was a romantic notion, and she paid little heed to Ricardo’s jeers about snakes and lizards and poisonous spiders.

  It was during one of their morning rides that she saw the black stallion again. They had taken the trail into the mountains, and came upon a herd of horses grazing together in one of the grassy gorges that fed the river. Their advent caused some nervousness among the animals, and Alexandra was so entranced by the sight of so many horses together that she didn’t at first see the glossy black ears flattened in warning of their approach. By the time she did see him, the herd was already moving, the thunder of their hooves vibrating within the walls of the canyon.

  ‘Qué diablo!’ grunted Ricardo impatiently, as they disappeared from view. ‘He is an arrogant devil, that one! He has the pride of Lucifer himself.’

  ‘Are they wild?’ asked Alexandra, still bemused by what she had seen, but Ricardo shook his head.

  ‘There are no wild horses in Santa Vittoria,’ he said. ‘They are all descendants from a shipment of horses from Paraguay, left to run free on the pampas. The
herd you have just seen belongs to the patrón, and like the cattle, they are rounded up every year and the surplus sold.’

  ‘And—and the stallion?’

  Ricardo laughed. ‘That black bastard? He is a selfish beast, that one. He keeps all the mares for himself.’

  ‘Jason said the Indians regard him as—sacred.’

  ‘Some do. Some don’t. The truth is, they are a—how do you say?—superstitious people. Because no one has been able to stay on his back long enough to break him to the saddle, he has become a legendario, no?’

  ‘A legend?’ Alexandra translated, smiling. ‘But a nice legend, isn’t it?’

  ‘Except when we have to round up the mares,’ amended Ricardo dryly. ‘He knows every ravine and gully in these mountains, every pass, every canyon. It is the work of the devil to find them.’

  Alexandra nodded, pushing back the brim of her hat, the sun warm on her thinly-clad shoulders. Already its rays had added a creamier texture to her skin, and this morning, to her horror, she had found freckles on her nose. As if remembering this, she pulled the brim forward again to shadow her face, and followed Miss Holland’s broad back as they turned for home.

  That evening over supper Alexandra spoke again of the black stallion, and was surprised when Jason raised dark eyebrows at Ricardo and said sharply: ‘I thought you promised me you wouldn’t ride into the mountains.’

  There was anger as well as curtness in his tones, and Alexandra was surprised when Ricardo made a kind of half hearted apology. ‘We did not go far, patrón,’ he protested. ‘We were never in any danger.’

  ‘Danger?’ Miss Holland, who invariably joined them for the evening meal now, looked astonished. ‘We—that is, Alexandra and I—are both competent riders, Mr Tarrant. I don’t think you need to worry about us.’

  ‘Ricardo knows my orders, ma’am,’ retorted Jason politely. ‘For the present, I would prefer you to stay nearer the homestead.’