Stars of Spring Page 7

  Recently, Joanne had begun to feel she had risen in Dom Manoel’s estimation, and she rather thought he would be more than a little disgusted on hearing of her deception, and for some reason she could not explain she hated the idea of his discovering she was living a lie, as it were. It had all been so unnecessary, resulting purely from that stubborn streak in her nature. As Chris had said at the time, she, Joanne, should have corrected Dom Manoel’s mistake immediately it had been made, but had been so irritated by his pompous and disagreeable manner that she had been too impatient and disinterested to explain. If he liked to jump to conclusions why should she take the trouble to disillusion him? As she had remarked to Chris, their paths would never cross again, so what did it matter? Little did she guess then what was to transpire! And Joanne now heartily wished she had put him in possession of the facts in the first place.

  ‘Is your brother married?’ inquired Dom Manoel, breaking into her thoughts.

  ‘Yes.’ She felt uncomfortable—had felt like this in his presence for the past week. ‘It’s very good of you to fetch the book,’ she added, simply for something to say.

  ‘I was coming in, in any case.’ He moved over to see what the children were doing. ‘I felt it was time I took some interest in their progress.’

  ‘Don’t they go to school?’ Joanne asked curiously, and Dom Manoel shook his head.

  ‘They had a governess until about a month ago, but she left to get married. It’s not worth replacing her now, for the children will be going home immediately after Christmas—at least I think they will. I’m hoping my sister will be out of hospital then.’

  ‘I’m doing very well, Uncle Manoel,’ interposed Filipa, lifting her head to look at him adoringly. This affection between the children and their uncle had come as a complete shock to Joanne, for somehow she had gained the impression that his outward cold austerity would be extended to all around him. But to her utter astonishment she had actually surprised him with both children on his knees, his arms around them, looking at a book they were showing to him. She had come down from her own sitting-room to inquire about some exercise paper and notebooks which Dom Manoel had promised to get for her, and she stopped in the doorway, so great was her surprise at the intimate little scene before her.

  Dom Manoel had looked up ... and then it was that Joanne had seen him with a softened expression, the expression that she had known would transform him into the most outstandingly attractive man she had ever encountered. And from that moment on she had experienced this peculiar discomfort when in his presence.

  ‘Senhora Barrie is much pleased with me.’

  ‘Is she, Filipa? I’m glad to hear it.’ He glanced over to Joanne; for no apparent reason a rosy flush spread over her face, highlighting the delicate contours of her cheeks and brow. Her awkwardness increased; she had the extraordinary impulse to stand, merely because she was in his presence. The idea brought an involuntary quiver to her lips, and a curious light entered Dom Manoel’s eyes. It was some time before he withdrew his gaze and returned his attention to what his niece was writing.

  ‘I had all my lessons right yesterday,’ submitted Leonor, not to be outdone by her sister. ‘And Senhora Barrie said I have the cleverness.’ She looked uncertainly at him, aware of saying something which was not quite correct. Her uncle’s brows rose in a gesture of admonishment, but Leonor only grinned. ‘I am—I am much clever! There, that is better!’

  ‘A little,’ he conceded, then told them both to get on with their work. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said to Joanne, returning to the desk at which she sat. ‘As you know, Leonor has a birthday party on Sunday, and I don’t see why Glee can’t come downstairs—after all, she’s been getting up a little for the past few days. She’s a splendid little patient and I think she deserves the change.’ He stopped, looking at the marking upon which Joanne had been engaged when he interrupted her. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘The work they did before lunch.’

  ‘But how long are you working?’

  ‘Four hours a day.’

  ‘I told you to work two,’ he returned sharply.

  ‘Yes, but—well, I wasn’t earning my money—’

  ‘That’s a question for me to decide. You can’t leave Glee for four hours a day!’

  ‘Luisa stays with her when I’m not there—or Mafalda—’ She turned in her chair, adding impulsively, but in lowered tones so as not to be overheard by the children, ‘Dom Manoel, you’re doing far too much for me. I really don’t understand why you should.’

  From outside came the loud and grating noise made by the peacocks perched high in the trees, and Dom Manoel waited until all was quiet again before he spoke.

  ‘I believe we’re related, Mrs. Barrie.’

  Her eyes widened.

  ‘I surmised that you’d forgotten that.’

  ‘Did you? Why?’

  Joanne became flustered, not merely by the question but also by the rather quizzical lift of his brows. She searched for some words of explanation, but as nothing better presented itself she told him the truth.

  ‘The difference in our positions, Dom Manoel. I took it for granted you wouldn’t like the idea of our being related.’ Not at all diplomatic, she realized—but only when it was too late.

  Sudden anger took the place of the smile in his eyes.

  ‘I don’t remember having given you cause to consider me a snob,’ he said stiffly, preparing to rise from his chair.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Joanne spoke with haste; subconsciously she had a desire for him to remain and to her relief he leant back in his chair, relaxed. Changing the subject, he told her that although she was employed by him her first duty was to Glee.

  ‘Luisa and Mafalda appear to have acquired a great affection for her—and she for them,’ he continued, astonishing Joanne by his knowledge of what went on. ‘But naturally it’s her mother she wants. If you devote two hours daily to Filipa and Leonor I shall be quite satisfied.’

  It just didn’t make sense, reflected Joanne, shaking her head in a gesture of bewilderment.

  ‘I’m not earning my money as it is. Also, the doctor’s bills—I should.be paying those, not you.’

  ‘Doctor Mendes attends my nieces—and anyone else in the house who happens to need him. A little extra on his bill is nothing.’ Passing that off as unimportant, he went on to inform Joanne that he had dismissed her man.

  ‘The animals, and the fowls—’ she began, imagining them to be starving.

  ‘One of my men is going over each day at present, but I suggest you sell the livestock; it isn’t as if it’s making you any profit at all.’

  Joanne moved uncomfortably. It wasn’t easy for her to admit that Dom Manoel had been so right, and she herself so wrong.

  ‘Who’ll want to buy it?’ she queried at last.

  ‘I’ll take it,’ he offered after a small hesitation, and Joanne was compelled to say she was quite sure her animals weren’t up to the standard of his own stock, and they must in any case be a loss to him. He made no remark on that and she went on,

  ‘Luis? I owe him some money.’

  ‘He’s been paid all he’s going to have.’

  ‘You’ve paid him—? Oh, but this is wrong!’ She shook her head again, her bewilderment increasing. ‘I don’t know why you’re doing all this?’ He must be aware of her puzzlement, yet he appeared to be idly listening to the peacocks who were uttering their raucous sounds again. ‘I feel I haven’t thanked you enough, Dom Manoel, but I really am grateful.’ He turned at that, and contemplated her in silence for a while, his whole demeanour one of uncertainty. Uncertainty? She must be imagining things, concluded Joanne, for the self-assured Dom Manoel Alvares would never find himself in an attitude of indecision.

  ‘In that case,’ he said at length, ‘you’ll probably be willing to do something for me in return?’

  ‘Most certainly,’ she agreed without stopping to consider what a man like Dom Manoel could possibly want of her. ‘I’ll do anyth
ing.’

  ‘Anything?’ His lips actually quivered in amusement, and Joanne felt a little rush of colour to her cheeks.

  ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t ask anything too difficult of me, Dom Manoel.’

  ‘No, Mrs. Barrie, you’re quite right, I wouldn’t.’ A pause, and then, ‘So you’re quite prepared to do some little thing for me?’

  ‘Quite,’ she returned after only the merest hesitation, and then, on a note of sudden shyness, ‘What is it you want me to do?’

  ‘For the present, nothing. I’ll tell you about it when I’m ready.’

  The children were having a wonderful time; the room where they had their tea had been beautifully decorated with flowers and lights and brilliantly coloured streamers. The room in which the games were being held had also been decorated especially for the occasion, and the carpets had been taken up so that the children could dance. A group of musicians arrived to play for them; they were attractively clad in their native costumes and added enormously to the gaiety with the playing of the pipes and the mandolins and guitars.

  Dom Manoel’s mother and stepfather were there and Joanne met them for the first time.

  Despite the smallness of her stature Dona Clementina was a proud and arrogant woman, distinguished and highly intelligent, with scarcely a wrinkle on her dark handsome face. Her husband on the other hand was far more amiable, and Joanne found herself thoroughly enjoying his company when, during the games, he invited her to sit down beside him on the sofa. His wife sat on the other side of the room with her son, but Joanne felt her eyes on her the whole time ... eyes that were far from friendly.

  ‘Tell me how you come to be here?’ Senhor Pedro de Castro’s eyes flickered over her appreciatively as Joanne smilingly occupied the seat next to him. ‘Your presence here came as a complete surprise, for my stepson had not previously mentioned you. You’re a widow, he now informs us.’

  Ignoring that last remark, Joanne explained all that had happened, keeping back only the fact of Dona Rosa’s having been responsible for the accident to Glee. She had also kept it from Ricardo, for she knew he would tell his mother who, Joanne suspected, would gossip in the village and the information could eventually come to Dom Manoel’s ears. As far as Joanne was concerned the matter was finished with; she would never deliberately cause dissension between Dom Manoel and his fiancée.

  ‘You came here to farm Pendela all on your own?’ His dark eyes widened with admiration. ‘You’re a very brave girl.’

  But Joanne shook her head rather sadly.

  ‘A foolish one, as it’s turned out,’ she responded wryly. ‘Dom Manoel was right when he said I’d never make it pay.’

  ‘But you’ll sell it to him now?’

  ‘He doesn’t want it.’

  Senhor de Castro evinced some considerable surprise.

  ‘He’s told you this?’

  ‘Dom Manoel has refused to buy the farm, yes.’

  He lifted a chubby brown hand and stroked his chin thoughtfully.

  ‘How very odd. Manoel has always wanted the place—has, I believe, actually resented the fact of its being separated from the estate in the first place. You see, with all due respect to you, my dear, it is a bit of an eyesore, as it’s been neglected for many years. It mars the view from the front of his house.’

  ‘I should have accepted his offer in the first place,’ she sighed. ‘It’s my own fault if I’ve lost everything.’

  Senhor de Castro continued to stroke his chin, a reflective expression on his round, good-humoured face.

  ‘There must be some good reason for his attitude ... I wonder what it can be?’ Following the direction of his gaze Joanne saw that Dom Manoel and his mother were deep in conversation. Dona Clementina glanced across at Joanne, then said something to her son. Joanne experienced an odd feeling of discomfort, for she felt certain she was being discussed. Dona Clementina cast another glance in Joanne’s direction, a glance of thinly-veiled hostility and a frown creased Senhor de Castro’s forehead. ‘Yes, there’s a reason,’ he murmured softly. ‘I wonder what it can be?’

  A few minutes later Dom Manoel disappeared and his mother came over to join her husband and Joanne.

  ‘What are you two talking about?’ she wanted to know, adding, ‘It could almost be a conspiracy, judging by your expression, Pedro.’ The arrogant voice jarred, and Joanne searched for some excuse to leave this woman’s company. However, to do so immediately would be ill-mannered, and she answered her question instead.

  ‘I was telling Senhor de Castro how I came to be here.’

  ‘My son was telling me the same thing.’ From her seat opposite Dona Clementina looked at Joanne up and down, taking in every detail of her appearance. ‘Why Manoel should want an English instructress for Leonor and Filipa is quite beyond me. He’s never troubled his head about their English before. If their mother had considered it necessary she’d have seen to the matter before now.’

  Her forthright declaration amounted almost to rudeness and two bright spots of colour sprang to Joanne’s cheeks. A fitting mother-in-law for Dona Rosa, she decided, curbing the angry retort that rose to her lips.

  ‘I expect your son knows what he’s doing,’ she quietly returned.

  ‘I expect he does ...’ It was Senhor de Castro who spoke, and there was a most odd inflection in his voice. He glanced round the room. ‘Where is Rosa? I haven’t seen her since tea time.’ The adults had taken their tea in the salon, away from the children; all except Rosa had then joined the party, although Joanne strongly suspected an occasion such as this was not exactly to Dona Clementina’s taste. ‘She should be here, with the children.’

  ‘If Rosa wishes to escape from such a gathering then it’s her own affair. You speak as if it’s a duty she should perform.’

  Senhor de Castro’s good humour remained, in spite of his wife’s tart response to his comment.

  ‘It would be a duty only if she were going to be married to Manoel,’ came the mild observation. ‘If, on the other hand, they are not to be married—’

  ‘Certainly they’re to be married,’ his wife haughtily interrupted. ‘Everyone expects it.’

  He smiled benignly at her. ‘Things don’t always turn out as people expect. For myself, I’ve never considered Rosa a good match for your son.’

  ‘She has wealth, and the connections necessary for the position of mistress here at the Solar de Alvares. I should be greatly disappointed if Manoel did not marry her.’

  A long pause; feeling extremely uncomfortable Joanne rose from the couch. She was about to make her excuses when Senhor de Castro spoke in his soft and pleasant tones.

  ‘It could be that Manoel will surprise us all by marrying for love.’

  ‘He loves Rosa,’ snapped his wife, and Senhor de Castro’s eyes opened very wide.

  ‘My dear, no one could love Rosa—’

  ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ interrupted Joanne hastily, ‘I must go and see how Glee is. She’ll probably be very tired by this time.

  She had noticed that Glee was not dancing, and found her at the far end of the room, sitting on a couch. Dom Manoel stood in the great carved doorway, surveying the gay scene before him when, having spotted Glee, he made his way towards her, reaching her side at the same time as Joanne.

  ‘How is our little invalid enjoying herself.’ Looking thoroughly human in light grey slacks and a loose-fitting jacket, with a bright green party hat perched at an angle on his head, Dom Manoel sat down on the couch and took Glee’s small hand in his. ‘Are you tired?’

  Glee shook her head vigorously, and as Joanne and Dom Manoel caught each other’s glance they both smiled. Glee would never give in, they were thinking, but both were also wondering if the excitement was becoming too much for her.

  ‘I’m not a little bit tired,’ Glee declared, smiling at Dom Manoel. Somehow, thought Joanne, he had managed to dispel the first unfavourable impression he made on the child. ‘It’s fun. I’ve never been to a party like this before.’
Some of the servants had been standing around, and now one or two of them joined in the dancing. Glee clapped her hands excitedly. ‘Mummy, why don’t you dance?’

  ‘I don’t know how to do it, Glee.’ She turned her head, moved by some odd force. Dona Rosa was standing by the door, having just entered the room. The look of boredom on her face was unmistakable, but a smile broke as her eyes lighted on Dom Manoel. With easy languid steps she moved between the dancers, reaching him just as he rose to his feet and held out a hand to Joanne. Obviously he had not seen Rosa, concluded Joanne, for he never even turned as she came up to him.

  ‘Come, Joanne, Glee wants to see you dancing.’

  Joanne. ... She gaped at him, but he seemed quite indifferent to her confusion as, pulling her to her feet, he urged her towards the circle of dancers.

  ‘I c-can’t do it,’ she stammered, her eyes meeting those of Rosa, who was staring at her in furious disbelief.

  ‘You’ll soon learn the steps,’ he assured her. ‘There’s nothing to them.’

  ‘But—really—’ She was swept away, into the circle, stumbling at first but soon falling into step. Everyone was delighted with the idea of Dom Manoel’s joining in the dance, and despite the chaos of her mind Joanne found to her surprise that she was actually enjoying herself. Dom Manoel was in the ring next to her, holding one of her hands. She felt the warmth of his touch, sensed the hidden strength beneath the light and careless clasp of his fingers, and a most odd sensation entered into her. Never had she expected to be disturbed in this way by the man who, on their first meeting, had managed to instil into her a dislike so intense that she believed it would remain with her for ever.

  ‘You see, it’s quite simple.’ He smiled at her as they danced; then the music stopped and they returned to the couch. Dona Rosa was sitting on a chair, trying to talk to Glee, but Glee was too interested in watching Joanne, and she laughed delightedly as Joanne sat down next to her, panting a little from her exertions.