Strangers May Marry

by Anne Hampson

  It was three hours later that Laura stood by Mandy's bed, staring down at her, sleeping so peacefully even though it was not yet eight o'clock. Yes, it had been a long day for the child. So quiet and unmoving, placid and dreamless, her pretty face totally relaxed. She had no notion of the trouble her coming into the world had caused. A truly beautiful child with an equally beautiful nature. An imp at times and then an angel. Laughter and tears followed one after the other quite often but never sulks or pettish shows of temper. She had a temper, of course. Without one a person had no character. Fortunately Mandy's temper came to the surface only when she was strongly provoked, which was very seldom indeed.

  Moving away from the bed, Laura reached in the wardrobe for a light coat and went silently from the room, having earlier made sure that the hotel provided a child tender who went continuously to those rooms where children were sleeping. There was a line of cabs outside the hotel and Laura hailed one.

  'Take me to this address, please.' She showed him the paper on which the address was printed. Phil had advised her to put up in Heraklion and then take a taxi to the address given her by Vera.

  'It's some way out from the city,' Phil had said, 'but from what I have gathered from the map, it won't take too long to get there.'

  The taxi-driver scanned the paper by the small light above his head. 'It is about twenty kilomet!' he said, and the cab jerked forward even before Laura had time to close the door. 'You on holiday?' His English was good but spoken quickly and with a very pronounced accent.

  'In a way, yes.' He was driving along the north coast and she remembered that about here was a region of great fertility, with olive groves and vineyards. It was spring, and Laura could imagine the flowers and the lush green valley of Knossos. She must visit the Palace of Minos before she went back to England. 'Do you know this place where I am going?' she asked after a long silence.

  'Everybody know the magnificent house and estate of Mr. Pavlos Penalis. He grow manys grapes and bananas and olives.'

  'Mr. Penalis?' repeated Laura, puzzled. And then, before she allowed the man time to speak, she was adding, 'Oh, he's the owner of an estate where many people are employed, is that it?'

  'That is right, madam. Mr. Pavlos has of the manys villas for his workers.'

  'And what do these workers do?'

  'They look after the grapes and olives. And he has too many peoples in the house and garden as well.'

  'Too many?' she began, then realised it was just the man's way of saying that this man Pavlos employed several people in his home. Domestics and probably gardeners. 'Is it a very large estate?' she enquired interestedly.

  'The largest on the island, madam. Mr. Pavlos is of the very respected gentlemans, you understand?'

  'Yes. He is very wealthy and influential.'

  'You go to see one of his workers?'

  She had to smile, for it was plain that he had taken it for granted that it could not be this illustrious Pavlos Penalis whom she was visiting.

  'Yes, a Mr. Warburton and—and his wife.'

  'The Englishman; yes, he work there. He the foreman of the estate.'

  'I see. And he lives in one of the villas, obviously?'

  'I not know this—"obviously" that you say?'

  'Never mind. He lives in a villa in the grounds of the house?'

  'Not in the grounds of house. The villas are some way away. I take you, so not for you to worry.' A small pause and then, 'You would like me to stay and take you back to hotel?'

  'I think that might be a good idea,' she answered. 'It seems very lonely around here.'

  'Lonely yes, but in daytime okay. The sun make everythings look cheerful, no?'

  'Yes, I suppose it must be lovely in the sunshine.'

  As it was, she could see very little now that they were in the valley, and she lapsed into silence, thinking of the meeting with her sister and the man, Joseph, she was living with. Laura felt her heartbeats increase in speed as the minutes passed and the meeting was drawing closer.

  At last the car turned off the road and was entering a narrower one overhung with trees. Soon she saw lights shining in the windows of the villas; the driver swung round a bend and came to a halt before a villa which was in total darkness. Laura's heart sank.

  'There isn't anybodys in,' stated the taxi-driver unnecessarily. 'All windows very dark!'

  Laura got out all the same and glanced around. This particular villa was larger than all the others—as was fitting for the man in charge, she supposed.

  Should she knock at the door? It seemed silly to do so but yet she felt she could not just go away without making absolutely sure there was no one at home.

  'It is no good,' said the man as she began to walk up the narrow path. 'Mr. Joseph must have gone on a holiday.'

  'You're sure this is his house?' A superfluous question, she thought, a sigh escaping her.

  'I know it is the right house, madam.'

  'I must find out when they'll be back. Will the people at this other house know, do you think?'

  'I ask for you,' he offered, and she stood there until he came back. He was shaking his head.

  'They not think Mr. Joseph have gone on holiday. They think he get other job.'

  'He's left here? Is there any way of knowing for sure?' There was one way, she realised—the only way, in fact—and that was to see the owner of the estate. 'Drive me to the house of Mr. Penalis, please,' she said and got back into the cab.

  'Very good, madam.'

  The road seemed to meander through groves of trees and between dark fields before the brilliantly lighted villa came into view. Long and low, it yet bore an air of patrician quality, with its white walls and blue shutters, the flowers climbing up marble columns flanking the wide, impressive entrance. A flight of marble steps led to an oak studded front door.

  'I ring the bell for you!' The man, whom she could now see more clearly by the floodlights coming from various points of the roof, was dark and stocky, and his smile revealed several bright gold fillings.

  'Thank you.' She followed him up the steps, and the next moment the door was opened by a dark Greek, immaculately clad in a black suit and white shirt. Laura thought he must be a sort of butler, and this idea was strengthened when he spoke in very good English in answer to her query and then bade her enter, and said he would tell his master she wanted to see him.

  She could smell food and realised she might have come while Mr. Penalis was having his dinner.

  'Will you please come this way, madam?' The butler gestured and she followed him along the wide, flower-draped hall to a door about halfway down. 'Your name, please?' he asked and she gave it to him. Then she was alone with the master of the house, and she just stood there in amazement for he was vastly different in appearance from any other Greek she had seen since arriving on the island several hours ago. This man was tall and fair-haired, with Nordic features and blue eyes.

  He mustn't be Greek, was her first thought, but then he remembered his name, which was certainly Greek.

  'Can I help you, Miss Hudson?' he enquired in excellent English which carried the merest hint of an accent.

  'I'm sorry to trouble you, Mr. Penalis, but I'm looking for a Mr. Warburton. I've come from England especially to talk with him. Has he left your employ?' She felt mesmerised, not only because he was so different from what she expected but also because he was the most impressive and handsome man she had ever set her eyes on. She became aware of an unfathomable tug of emotion as she continued to stare at him, noticing the bronzed skin and metallic glint in the blue eyes, the inflexible jawline, the strong determined chin below a sensuous, uncompromising mouth. His features on the whole had an aquiline quality which strengthened the impression of arrogance and superiority. Her eyes moved to scan the lithe, perfectly proportioned figure, and she was not deceived by its slenderness; there was a spate of latent power and strength in a tensed and sinewed body like that, she decided. He was standing in the middle of the room, impeccably clad in
a casual suit of beige linen and a snow-white shirt which contrasted in stark distinction with his Arab-dark skin. So unusual, she thought, to have fair hair and yet be so brown. She guessed, though, that the colour of his skin was the result of the climate rather than racial elements. He obviously led an outdoor life.

  'Joseph Warburton!' The sharpness of the deep, vibrant voice startled Laura in a way that caused her nerves to tingle. 'You're a friend of his?'

  'His—wife is my sister.' She watched closely for his reaction and saw the blue eyes become shuttered. 'Is something wrong?'

  'Your sister… ?' Quieter tones now but again Laura felt a disturbance of nerves. The man's eyes swept Laura from head to foot, then settled on her face in a long, all-examining scrutiny. She supposed he was searching for a likeness but there never had been one.

  'Yes, she came to Greece with Joseph Warburton almost five years ago and I want to speak to her.'

  The man's eyes flickered as their owner said, 'It was Joseph you mentioned, whom you said you wanted to speak to.' He paused but only for a second. 'Do you mean to say you haven't seen your sister for five years?'

  Laura bit her lip, not having the least desire to go into personal details with this man but, having come here, she supposed she would, out of politeness, have to answer some of his questions. However, he was at the moment sweeping a negligent hand and inviting her to sit down. He then asked if she would like some refreshment.

  'I'll have a dry martini, if I may,' she answered, noticing the languid quality about his movements as he went towards a cocktail cabinet. From the depth of a most comfortable armchair she glanced around, absorbing with an experienced, appreciative eye the atmosphere of elegance and good taste that characterised the large, wide-windowed room. The carpet was amber-rose, with matching drapes that reached the floor; the ceiling was decorated with fine gold leaf, the walls hung with gold and crimson embossed paper. The furniture was antique, some French, some Queen Anne. On occasional tables delicate figure groups in Chelsea and Worcester porcelain were subtly illuminated by lights invisible to the eye. There was a white marble fireplace with brass andirons and above it an El Greco painting. The sofa, which Pavlos Penalis moved over to after placing her drink on a small table at her elbow, was covered with French tapestry and matched the four large armchairs scattered about the room in casual good taste, one of which was occupied by Laura. Wealth and judicious planning had combined to produce a room of exquisite charm and character, and Laura very naturally concluded that a woman's hand had been involved—and, therefore, that Pavlos Penalis was married.

  'Now,' he said when she did not speak, 'perhaps you will tell me a little about this business. From what I gather you have come from England to find your sister whom you haven't seen for five years.' He paused fractionally. 'Or was it the man she was living with you wanted to see?'

  Laura coloured at the knowledge that he knew her sister wasn't married to Joseph Warburton, by whom she had two children.

  'It's over four and a half years—Mr. Penalis, I sense a mystery. I've been to the villa where they were supposed to live and it looked deserted. The taxi-driver made some enquiries for me and the people seemed to think that Mr. Warburton had left your employ.'

  'Yes, he has.'

  'Then where are they? I must find them. It's urgent!' She had no idea just how desperate she appeared to the man sitting there… or how attractive…

  'I have no idea where either of them is,' he began apologetically. 'I'm afraid I have some disturbing news for you, Miss Hudson. Your sister went off with another man a couple of weeks ago—left her children with their father—'

  'Oh, not again!' The exclamation escaped before Laura could suppress it and she saw the man's brows lift and a sneer of contempt twist his mouth.

  'It's the second time, then?'

  'No—well, she wasn't married when she went off with Joseph Warburton, but he was.' She picked up her glass, while her other hand was pushed through her hair. To have come all this way and then not to find Mandy's father… 'How can I find them?' she asked desperately. 'You say my sister went off, but surely you have some idea where she is—' She broke off, noticing his puzzlement, and after only a small hesitation she told him everything. Although she made her narrative as short as possible, she saw his expression change repeatedly, and when she stopped speaking there was a heavy frown on his brow.

  Before he could speak there was a gentle knock on the door, and the same manservant who had admitted Laura said respectfully, 'Mr. Pavlos, your dinner is ready to be served.'

  'Tell George to keep it hot for a while.'

  'He said to tell you, Mr. Pavlos, that it is not the meal to be kept hot without it spoiling.' His eyes went fleetingly to Laura and a half smile touched his lips. She responded, admiring his graciousness in speaking English.

  'I see…' He glanced at Laura questioningly. 'Have you had your dinner?'

  'I—I…' A kind of elation swept through her at the idea of a man like this inviting her to dine with him, for that was what he was doing. Where were his wife, his family? Perhaps he was a bachelor, but she could not imagine a man as attractive as he managing to remain a bachelor, for she had already guessed he must be around thirty years of age. 'You said there was a minder for children left in the hotel?'

  She nodded. 'Yes, that's right.' She looked at him, immaculate and obviously dressed for dinner, even if casually so, whereas she was in a blouse and skirt beneath her coat, and both were still creased from being in her suitcase since early that morning. 'I haven't really eaten,' she found herself saying. 'I had a snack with Mandy at about half past six.'

  'Then you must stay here and eat.' He turned to the man waiting respectfully by the door. 'Another cover, Marco. I expect George will have cooked far too much for one—he usually does.'

  'Yes, Mr. Pavlos.' The man departed silently just as Laura remembered the taxi waiting on the forecourt. She mentioned it, looking troubled because if she dismissed it she would not know how to get back to the hotel.

  'Don't worry, I'll have him sent away—' He flicked an imperious hand to prevent the interruption Laura was about to make. 'He'll be paid his due, and then I will have one of my servants drive you back in my car. You're at the Florida, I think you said?'

  'Yes, that's right.'

  He walked over to a bell-rope and tugged it gently. Marco returned and was told to dismiss the taxi.

  'Give the man his full fare back into the city,' he added and again flicked a hand—impatiently this time —when Laura opened her mouth to thank him. He then paused a moment as if waiting for the door to close behind his manservant, yet also he appeared to be frowningly searching for words. He shook his head. 'There is no way of breaking this gently to you, Miss Hudson,' he said with a hint of regret in his vibrant voice. 'Your sister went off with a Greek whose wife is the daughter of one of the most powerful and prominent men on this island. He and his family originate from the deep Mani, where the vendetta still prevails just as it does here in one or two of the remote mountain villages where little has changed in centuries. Crete and the Mani are the only two places in Greece where the vendetta plays a part in people's lives.' He stopped and frowned as if at some secret thought, and Laura, her heart pounding unnaturally against her ribs, spoke before he could continue.

  'The vendetta?' Shivers sped along her spine, for the very word conjured up visions of dark deeds and fearsome, near-pagan customs. 'What are you trying to tell me, Mr. Penalis?' Her voice was cracked and edged with fear, a circumstance that did not go unnoticed by her companion. 'You must know that what you've just said has made me feel greatly perturbed about my sister. I know I came here to Crete primarily to find Mr. Warburton, but now—well, the whole situation is different from what I had expected. I sense that you know my sister is in danger—grave danger. This vendetta you mention—I had never heard of it until now but I have been told that the Cretans were a…' Her voice trailed to the silence of confusion and colour leapt to her cheeks.

>   The man sitting opposite seemed deeply amused, quirking her a glance as he finished for her, '"…a wild lot, ready to fight to the last breath for a cause, who are cruel to their enemies and who have always had a personal contempt for death".' A low laugh escaped him as he added, 'I am quoting, as you presumably know?'

  'Phil—the gentleman who wants to marry me—has read up a few details about Crete and the people, and he passed them on to me.'

  'We were a wild lot once,' he murmured as if speaking to himself. 'We had to be, or go under. We've been a prey to invaders for more than a thousand years, and as a result we're a tough nation. We didn't always belong to Greece, remember.'

  Laura made no comment on that but asked if the vendetta really did exist.

  'In the remote places, yes. I have already said so, Miss Hudson.'

  Laura felt her heart begin to throb painfully again. 'In what way can it affect my sister?' she asked fearfully and saw a swift frown touch his forehead. When he spoke it was plain that he was being guarded in what he revealed to her.

  'The idea of the vendetta is revenge for an injury done to a person. At one time murder was by no means out of the ordinary, but such strong measures are rarely indulged in today. With your sister—well, it's impossible to predict what will happen if and when her whereabouts are known. At present no one seems to know where the couple are; they might have left Crete or they might be in hiding, living under assumed names. The latter seems more than likely.'

  'How stupid of Irene!' Laura was more angry now than fearful. 'Had she no idea what risks she was running?'

  The Greek shrugged his shoulders. 'Love, Miss Hudson,' he commented briefly, and she coloured and looked away because of the mocking amusement of his glance and because she knew he was thinking of her own love affair and mocking that too.

  'My sister has obviously left herself open to some form of reprisal,' Laura stated after a while. 'Is there anything I can do to help her?'