by Anne Hampson
After a little while he suggested they go back to the house, and as they turned to retrace their steps he took hold of her and drew her to him. Although more himself he still seemed rather dazed, but what puzzled Joanne was the way he appeared to be suffering some great hurt. It must be her imagination, she concluded, for he could not be hurt unless he loved her. Disappointed, yes, but not hurt. And yet she said impulsively, the words being strangely drawn from her, almost against her will,
‘I’m so sorry, Manoel, for everything I’ve done.’ He would not know the real meaning of those words, of course, and this was manifested in the slight stiffening of his body against hers.
‘From tonight, Joanne, we’ll not talk about it.’
‘No.’ The tiny break in her voice softened him and he bent and kissed her on the lips.
‘There’s a new life beginning for us both,’ he said gently. ‘And I’m sure it will be a good life.’
When they reached home he kissed her again, then bade her good night.
‘Good night, Manoel.’ She smiled at him, and ran upstairs. At the top she turned to look down; he was still standing there, staring into space.
Later that night, sitting up in bed with a book, yet unable to read any more than she could sleep, Joanne pondered on her fiancé’s acceptance of the situation. And the more she pondered the more convinced she became that there was something she did not understand. Manoel wanted nothing so much as to be released from that old promise, and this he had contrived by placing Rosa in a position in which she would leave his house of her own accord. But any woman would have served his purpose. Besides, he was handsome and rich, had about the most magnificent palacete in the whole of the Douro district, and therefore could have had his pick of the daughters of the Portuguese nobility.
And yet he had chosen her, Joanne, taking Glee too who, so he believed, was her child born out of wedlock. He did not seem to care about the gossip that must inevitably ensue. His mother and stepfather, his sisters and brother ... his friends and the vast army of employees ...
Yes, there certainly was something Joanne did not understand.
‘I’m glad the wedding’s on again.’ Lynn surveyed herself in the long mirror in Joanne’s bedroom. Her dress of flowing lilac velvet was being deftly moulded to her waist by the dressmaker, whose assistant was standing by handing her the pins. ‘I like myself, Joanne,’ she added, laughing.
‘It certainly suits you.’ Joanne stood there, surveying her admiringly. ‘Ricardo’s really going to fall for you in that.’
‘Wasn’t it good of Manoel to invite him? He seems to think of everything. He’s kind, Joanne.’
Joanne bit her lip. Kind, thoughtful, generous ... but still Dom Manoel Alvares, proud scion of a noble Portuguese family. Moving to the window, Joanne gazed down, over the magnificent grounds with their fountains and statuary, their miniature cascades and shining lakes, and her eyes were shadowed and pensive.
Something had crept into her relationship with Manoel and there was an atmosphere of strain between them whenever they found themselves alone. Was it Glee? Would she be a constant reminder to him of Joanne’s ‘lapse’ as Rosa would have termed it? If this were so, then Manoel would never come to love her—and if he never loved her how was she ever to make her confession about Glee? And the confession would have to be made some time.
‘Senhora ...’ The dressmaker’s voice brought Joanne round and she surveyed Lynn’s dress, beautifully moulded to her figure and flowing out from the waist down. ‘This is very good, yes?’
‘Perfect.’
‘And the back, senhora?’
Lynn turned round and Joanne nodded.
‘And now it’s your turn,’ said Lynn. ‘I’m dying to see your dress now the alterations are nearly finished.’
Joanne’s dress was very old, having been the wedding-dress of Manoel’s great-grandmother. Made of the finest lace, it had been the work of dozens of nuns, working every stitch by hand, often by candlelight. It was the most exquisite creation she had ever seen, and when told by Manoel that she was to wear it Joanne had been both thrilled and honoured. But now ...
‘Joanne—oh, you look like a princess!’
It was true; Joanne did look like some proud young princess as she stood there, regarding herself in the mirror, the dressmaker kneeling to adjust the hem.
‘Mummy!’ Glee flew into the room in her usual whirlwind fashion. ‘You look beautiful! I didn’t know the dressmaker was here. Am I going to try my dress on? And what about Leonor and Filipa—they should be here, shouldn’t they?—to have their fittings? Are you having it right to the floor? Auntie Lynn, have you had your fitting?’ Glee sat down on a chair and looked interestedly at the dressmaker’s assistant as she passed the pins, one at a time, to the woman on the floor.
‘Well, thank heaven you had to stop for breath!’ exclaimed Lynn, who was now attired in her ordinary clothes. ‘Yes, you’re going to try your dress on. No, Leonor and Filipa are not trying on theirs today. Mummy is having her dress down to the floor—and I’ve had my fitting. Now, would you like to start again?’
Glee grinned and her grey eyes twinkled with mischief.
‘I know I ask too many questions. Auntie Chris used to say so. I’m glad Auntie Chris and Uncle Miles are coming to the wedding. I haven’t seen them for such a long time.’ What would Chris say to the deception? Joanne wondered with a tiny sigh. There seemed to be so many complications.
‘Senhora—please move round, just a little.’
Joanne did as she was requested. All this was going on, and yet through her subconscious the words kept repeating themselves, ‘The wedding will not take place’.
So many difficulties ... And the growing conviction that she should think again. Could she adapt herself to this exalted position without the love of her husband to help her?—and with the shadow of Glee always between them?
She had been quite happy and confident until that conversation with Rosa, she reflected with a sudden creasing of her forehead. Yes, it was Rosa who had caused this uncertainty, this doubt to enter into her.
It was a few days ago; most of Rosa’s things had gone the previous day, and Diego was putting a suitcase in her car when Joanne entered the house from the garden. Rosa was coming downstairs, carrying her handbag, and a coat over her arm.
‘So we say good-bye.’ The usual sneer curled Rosa’s lips and her eyes were filled with bitter jealousy and hate. ‘I never believed Manoel could go to these lengths, could be so rash. But he’ll soon wake up and realize his mistake. He’ll realize it every time he sets eyes on your child!’ Joanne blinked at her, for she suddenly knew that Rosa was actually deriving satisfaction from the idea of Glee’s becoming a barrier between Manoel and his wife. ‘You’re a brave woman, Joanne, I’ll give you that!’
Joanne had been trembling from head to foot as she watched Rosa drive away along the wide tree-lined avenue leading to the road. And all colour must have left her face, for Manoel, coming in a moment later, had concernedly asked if she were feeling ill.
And in a fleeting moment of panic Joanne had opened her mouth to tell her fiancé the truth, for the expression on his face was tender, and his touch had been a gentle caress as he took her arm, insisting she sit down and have a drink of wine. But the words died on her lips as she recalled Manoel’s saying that no one in his right mind would saddle himself with someone else’s child.
‘Senhora, if you will turn again, please.’ The faintly apologetic request of the dressmaker brought Joanne back to the present, and she turned round, so that the woman could fix the train to her satisfaction.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Lynn admiringly when at last the woman rose from her knees. ‘You’ve nearly finished it?’
‘Many hours yet. The work—it must be done very slow, and very fine, to match the other, you see.’
‘Thank you,’ murmured Joanne, on being helped to take off the dress. ‘You’re very clever, because it required a good deal of alterat
ion.’
‘It is my business, senhora. I do for all the rich people in this district.’
For once Glee managed to keep still as, a few minutes later, she was being fitted. Her dress was a small edition of Lynn’s, as were Filipa’s and Leonor’s, and Glee looked rather angelic as she smiled at herself in the mirror.
‘I’m glad Auntie Lynn’s being the chief bridesmaid, because now we don’t have an argument.’
‘There wouldn’t have been an argument,’ said Joanne. ‘Leonor’s the eldest, so she would have been the chief bridesmaid.’
‘Can I go down and show Uncle Manoel?’ asked Glee when the woman informed Joanne that she had finished her work on the dress.
‘No; he won’t want to be bothered with you.’
However, a week later, when the dresses were finished and Helena brought her children for their final try-on, Helena herself suggested that they should all go down and show the dresses to her brother.
‘Oo-h, good!’ exclaimed Glee. ‘I’ll bet Uncle Manoel will think we all look beautiful!’
‘Coming?’ Helena smiled at her future sister-in-law. ‘Let’s see what Manoel has to say about them.’
‘I’ll be down in a few minutes.’
Left alone, Joanne sighed. She experienced no thrill at the idea of going down to see what Manoel thought about the children’s dresses. As for her own dress, she had even less interest in that. During the past week it had become more and more difficult not to go to Manoel and call the wedding off, for the coolness between them had increased tenfold, and Joanne could find no reason for it other than that Manoel was by Glee’s presence being continually reminded that the woman he was about to marry was not chaste—or so he believed. That Joanne herself could have been blamed for the mounting tension had not for one moment occurred to her.
What would he say if she announced her intention of breaking the engagement? Joanne trembled at the thought ... yet she trembled even more when she contemplated the future.
At last she went downstairs; excited voices drifted to her from the half open door of the salon as she reached the bottom of the stairs and made her way along the hall towards it.
‘Uncle Manoel, aren’t we all beautiful?’
‘I’ve answered that question three times already.’
A chuckle from Glee.
‘Do you think Leonor’s should be a bit shorter?’ from Filipa, on a faintly anxious note. ‘She might trip over it, and fall down in church.’
‘That would be funny!’
‘Glee, you have a most perverted sense of humour!’
‘What’s that, Uncle Manoel?’
‘You’re wicked!’
Reaching the door, Joanne stood for a moment, most reluctant to enter. For she knew instinctively that a coldness would come over her fiancé the moment their eyes met. So she hesitated, savouring for a while this most attractive mood of his, even though she could only do it from the outside, and alone.
‘You don’t really think I’m wicked,’ returned Glee in an artful tone she had found very effective whenever she particularly wanted to get her own way with Manoel. ‘You don’t, do you? Because if you did you’d be cross.’
‘And if he was cross he’d smack you,’ put in Filipa.
‘Uncle Manoel won’t smack her until he’s really her uncle,’ interposed Leonor, ‘because if you’re no relation you can’t.’
‘Uncle Manoel is my relation.’
‘Not until he marries your mummy.’
‘Then your mummy’ll be your aunt,’ said Filipa in some bewilderment. She looked at her sister, and they both laughed. Helena did, too, but Glee was saying seriously, ‘Yes—but she’s my aunt already. Uncle Manoel, shall I have to call her Aunt after she’s married?’
Joanne moved swiftly, her fear almost choking her. Manoel was speaking.
‘No, Glee, you’ll still call her Mummy.’
‘But she’s my aunt, not my—’
‘Glee dear—’
‘Mummy ...’ Glee turned to her, ‘aren’t you really my aunt?’
‘No—no—that is—Glee, you must come up and take off your dress. You’ll be getting it creased.’
‘Creased?’ It was Helena who spoke, appearing rather surprised, as well she might, for Glee was merely standing there, not even touching her dress with her hands. ‘How can she get it creased?’
‘No—well, that was rather silly of me. But I want to take it off ...’
Joanne caught Manoel’s stare. He was looking most oddly at her, and she supposed her appearance had something to do with it, for she knew the colour had left her face. ‘Come, Glee.’
‘All right—but you are my aunt, aren’t you?’ No answer from Joanne and Glee persisted, ‘Aren’t you really my Auntie Joanne?’ She turned to Manoel. ‘She is,’ she told him cheerfully. ‘My real mummy’s dead.’
A profound silence settled on the room. Joanne swallowed hard and tried to speak, but with Manoel looking at her like that it was quite impossible for her to do so.
‘Joanne,’ he said slowly, unbelievingly, ‘you haven’t answered Glee.’
‘I—I’ Whether it was the strain of the past weeks, the relief of knowing everything was cleared up, or the knowledge that this was the end as far as she and Manoel were concerned Joanne could not have said, but to her utter dismay she burst into tears.
‘Helena, will you please take the children out?’ Manoel’s low and authoritative tones reminded Joanne of his efficient handling of another situation—when she had come to him for help.
‘Of course, Manoel. Glee, too?’
‘Yes. Glee, go along with Aunt Helena. Your—mummy and I want to talk quietly together.’
‘But my mummy’s crying. I can’t leave her.’
‘I’ll take care of her. You go along with Aunt Helena.’
‘Mummy—’
‘Do as I say, please, Glee.’ Manoel’s voice was still tolerant, but firm.
The other children had already left the room and Helena was at the door, waiting for Glee. She hesitated a moment longer, glancing from her aunt to Manoel. Then she noticed the sternness in his eyes and instantly obeyed him.
Silence again. Joanne at last managed to lift her face, and meet her fiancé’s gaze.
‘I’m sorry I lied, but I knew you wouldn’t let her stay, and—and Manoel, I c-can’t let her go back to my brother. You see, he’s married again, and—’
‘So Glee is your niece.’
‘Yes. Her mother died when she was a baby.’ She found a handkerchief and dried her eyes. ‘It must be the strain,’ she said apologetically, screwing her handkerchief into a tight little ball. ‘I can’t give Glee up Manoel, so—so the w-wedding will have to be c-called off.’
His eyes flickered strangely.
‘Perhaps, Joanne, you’ll explain everything to me. I feel I can guess much, but why you began this deception in the first place I simply can’t fathom. If Glee wasn’t yours, then you had no need to pose as a widow.’
And so Joanne was faced with the embarrassing task of telling Manoel that he had himself been the indirect cause of it all. She then went on to explain how it was that Glee had first begun to call her Mummy.
‘You ridiculous child!’ he exclaimed when she had finished. ‘What a tangle you got yourself into! Why, in heaven’s name, didn’t you clear it all up before now?’
‘I wanted to tell you about Glee—that day when Rosa told you some of it. But you said definitely you wouldn’t let me keep her unless she was my own child, so I had to let you go on thinking she was mine.’
‘I said—?’ He stared at her, a frown on his dark face. ‘What are you talking about?’
She began to explain, but she had not gone very far when he interrupted her.
‘Did you have to take it quite so literally?’
‘You didn’t mean it?’ She stared at him in disbelief. ‘But you definitely said—’
‘I certainly never said you couldn’t keep Glee, my silly little lo
ve. Your memory’s at fault.’
My ... love. Dazed, she took a faltering step towards him, even the urgent question of Glee’s future forgotten.
‘Manoel ...’ Her lovely eyes, still swollen from her weeping, searched his face with a sort of eager desperation. ‘Manoel, why do you want to marry me?’
He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. A hint of amusement entered his dark eyes as at length he said,
‘Did you never think to ask yourself why I should still want to marry you, believing Glee to be yours?’
‘I did consider it very strange,’ she admitted, ‘for you could have had someone much better than I, someone of your own cl—’
Swiftly Manoel crossed the room and Joanne was seized so roughly that the rest of her sentence died on her lips.
‘Don’t you dare say a thing like that! It’s my future wife you’re talking about!’ And after giving her a little shake he handled her far more gently, and his kiss could leave her in no doubt at all as to the reason why he wanted to marry her. Nevertheless, he whispered, his lips touching her cheek, ‘At first, sweetheart, I was concerned only in getting out of that promise I so rashly made to my uncle, but when I asked you to marry me, I knew I was very near to caring.’
‘You said you didn’t love me,’ she reminded him seriously.
‘Only because I felt sure you didn’t return it. A man doesn’t declare his love until he has at least some small indication that he’ll not suffer a rebuff. I had no wish to hear you scorn my love.’
She laughed softly then.
‘A rebuff ... you had nothing to fear, because I knew I loved you. But even if I hadn’t,’ she added on a graver note, ‘I would never have said anything horrid to you, Manoel. You should have known that.’
‘I should—?’ He held her away, his expression a mingling of censure and amusement. ‘Perhaps you’ll tell me how I should have known a thing like that?—when you’ve done little else but say horrid things to me almost from the moment we met!’
