At the Villa Massina (13 page)

“It is not necessary to lacerate the feet in order to show one’s fortitude. Sit down.”

She sat and held herself stiffly, willing herself to remain unconscious of his strong, long-fingered hands as they slipped the sandals over her toes and fastened the straps. His dark shining head was a few inches above her knee, and without much movement she could have put her lips to his temple.

She went cold. What in the world was happening to her?
This was Ramiro Fernandez de Velasco y Cuevora, Conde de Vallos!

She went up the steps slowly, found Rina’s hand and held on to it tightly. They all walked round the villa, and came to the long black car, parked in the shade. Inside the car sat two people; Manuel Verrar and that dusky flower, Carmen Perez.

Ramiro said, with the urbanity which was his stock-in
-
trade, “Well, Miss Darrell is suitably penitent and very tired, so we will leave her to rest for the evening.” And smiling distantly at Juliet: “Manuel and Carmen are dining at the Castillo with Inez and myself tonight—Manuel’s time is short, and Carmen was not at the plaza, so she has saved herself for a pleasant evening. Adios, ninos! Goodbye, Miss Darrell.”

He got into the car and at once let in the clutch, without again glancing at Juliet. His fingers, as they swung the wheel, looked pale and sharp and cruel, but the smile he turned to Carmen was gentle and charming.

Juliet finished the cigarette and went indoors. Her mind was a blank of misery and her bones felt limp as wet string.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE week ended, and Holy Week began with a midnight procession through the streets of the town on Saturday night. Sunday was calm and the streets empty. Inez called for a short visit just before lunch, but it was palpably only a courtesy. Possibly because Juliet knew a little about her and guessed more, the senora was aloof and very conscious of her position. She went back to using “Miss Darrell” instead of “Juliet,” and after she had left Juliet discovered that her chauffeur had given a huge basket of produce to Luisa, a typical gesture from the nobleza to the less favored. To Luisa’s dismay, Juliet insisted that the basket should be handed over intact to Juan, the fisherman.

On Monday there were more processions in San Federigo, and by the evening of that day both Tony and Rina were protesting against Juliet’s decision to stay away from the religious displays.

“If we went just once,” Rina said, “we wouldn’t ask again. Mummy used to let us go with Luisa and come home late.”

“But Luisa never takes time off, and now we’ve persuaded her to go down into town it isn’t right to ask her to take you. I’m sure you’d get terribly tired, and I’m not so sure your Mummy would let Rina go this year.”

“I like the lights and the figures,” said Tony doggedly. “I want to see them.”

“Just for ten minutes,” begged Rina. “The smells are scrumptious.”

In the end they won. For half an hour they stood on the waterfront and watched the stately dancing of the choristers and the streams of little winged girls in white, the plaster figures of saints carried aloft. Rina sniffed at the blend of incense, spices, salt sea and hawsers and then, as she said, carried it away home.

Juliet saw them both bathed and into bed, and then she went to the open french door of the sitting-room, where she invariably sat. The light in the porch was out, and only a small reading lamp illumined her corner of the room, so she lay back and closed her eyes, thinking she would go to bed early tonight.

An insect hummed gently near the light; the roses massed in a bowl on the table scented the room but did not quite expel the cinnamon smell of the polish which Luisa used so assiduously. The night outside was calm, with a faint murmur of the sea washing over the beach, and only a very occasional vehicle went by on the road.

Juliet dozed, then roused suddenly at a sound, and opened her eyes. She stared at Lyle Whitman, standing in the doorway, gripped the arms of her chair. But before she could speak or move he had come farther into the room and waved a hand companionably.

“Sorry, did I frighten you?”

“Of course. I didn’t hear a car.”

“My car got hemmed in down in the town so I walked up. May I take a seat?”

“If you’re staying,” she said, now thoroughly awake, “I suppose you’d better.”

He tut-tutted at her coolness, hitched his purple corduroys and sat in a dining-chair near the table. “You don’t look awfully pleased to see me.”

“Is it impolite to say that I hoped I’d never see you again?”

He sighed, and stretched his legs. “I could go for you, Juliet. I like a woman who isn’t afraid—or gives a good imitation of being full of pluck. But you suspect me, so you won’t unbend. By the way, I saw you at the motor race last Wednesday, right in among the swells. You must know the Castillo crowd fairly well by now.”

Juliet answered him distinctly. “I don’t know Inez de Vedro as well as you do, though.”

He lifted an eyebrow, quizzically. “What does it matter? If I were a woman I’d sooner be friends with the Conde—like every other woman. Look here, little one, are you sure you can’t offer me a drink?”

“Quite sure. And I want you to leave as soon as possible in case the children wake up and hear you.”

“Kids sleep through anything,” he said negligently, and crossed his legs. “How often do you go to the Castillo?”

“Only when I’m invited.”

“What a one you are for passing up your chances. I’m surprised you’re not trying to get a job out here. If you learned some Spanish you’d be valuable in almost any business in one of the cities.”

“I have a job in England, thanks.”

He grinned. “You’re hopeless. Think about it a bit, and if the idea appeals, I’ll help you. It’s funny, but I’d really like to do something for you.”

“Why?”

“Don’t stare like a large-eyed child, full of suspicion. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to convince you that at heart I’m not a bad guy. It’s a darned shame that we’ve had to meet in such complicated circumstances, but if you’d just realize that I wouldn’t hurt you personally, you might find yourself willing to give a little.”

“So you do want something from me,” she said a trifle wearily. “You don’t know how tired I am of your beastly intrigue with Norma...”

“Hey,” he broke in, “it wasn’t as low as that. If you’re sensible, you can forget it.” He rubbed a finger along the incipient beard, asked quietly, “What’s got into you, Juliet?”

She lifted a hand and let it drop. “You know already. I introduced you to Inez de Vedro, so it’s my fault she’s buying stones from you.”

“Good lord! Do you mean she told you?”

“She didn’t have to. On Wednesday she was wearing the white jade brooch which you’d already used as a bribe to Norma! You sold it to Inez as something new and unsoiled...”

“Hold on, spitfire,” he said, his voice moderate once more. “That’s a beautiful brooch, and it deserves to be worn by someone who can appreciate it. I’ll admit the price was rather steep, but with a woman like Senora de Vedro you have to go high, or she wouldn’t think anything of it. I suppose she told you she had some other gems from me?”

“Yes,” she answered bitterly, “and her brother mustn’t know. Did you use witchcraft?”

Reminiscently, he said, “I suppose it was—kind of. Poor Inez should never have lost her husband.”

“You once said you were half in love with her!”

“I’ve been half in love a good many times.” He paused and smiled disarmingly. “I’m sorry Juliet, but I was hard up. My last book was turned down flat, and I’d been counting on it; other sources of income fizzled out too; Inez was a godsend. She’s happy about the gems she bought, so why should you worry?”

“Because I hate your methods! If you’d gone openly to the Conde and offered the gems for sale, he’d probably have bought a number of them. Instead, you charge Inez the earth for those she fancies and take good care not to meet Ramiro. I think there’s something really shady about you, Lyle Whitman!”

He laughed. “So there is, chicken. I can deal with women—some of them!—but not with men. I have no intention of meeting the Conde—ever.”

“Not even to get back the cat’s eye ruby—now that you’ve only the few hundreds you’ve filched from Inez to get along on?”

“Ouch,” he said agreeably. “You certainly pack a punch. I can’t think where a sweet, golden-haired little thing like you gets it from—unless loyalty makes a vixen of any woman. That’s a thought, isn’t it?”

“It might sell your next novel!”

“I don’t think so,” regretfully. “It’s often been done before.” He paused again. “About the cat’s eye, Juliet—that’s why I’m here.”

“Oh, no,” she almost wailed. “I won’t listen to anything more about it!”

“You must, I’m afraid. I want it back.”

“I can’t get it.”

“But you must, my dear. I’m quite sure you haven’t tried everything with the Conde. What about the personal favor angle?”

“He wouldn’t believe I’d need that kind of favor for a man I hardly know.”

“Do you realize he’s no right to withhold the stone?”

“In some things the Conde recognizes no law but his own. It seems to me most unreasonable that he should keep the thing, but I’m certain that’s what he will do, unless you go to him yourself. Why do you keep bringing me into it?”

“The stone was lost here in this room,” he pointed out softly. “If I hadn’t shown my collection to you I wouldn’t have lost it.”

“But I didn’t ask to see your beastly collection!”

“Well ... no. I guess those honest grey eyes got me; with Norma, her extreme friendliness did the trick. However, the cat’s eye was lost through my coming to see you, and I came to see you because of Norma. Obviously, if I’m going to have trouble over it, Norma is the one who should pay.”

He drawled the words so carelessly that Juliet was unaware, for some moments, that they contained the germ of a threat. Then it percolated, and she sat up straight, a dawning horror in her eyes.

“You’re not ... blackmailing me, are you?” she breathed.

“What a vile word for gentle persuasion,” he said. “Why won’t you believe that I like you, Juliet? I don’t want to harm you, even indirectly, but I certainly want that stone from the Conde, and you’re the only one who’s able to get it for me.”

“And if I’m unsuccessful?”

“Well ... I do know rather more about Norma Colmeiro than she’d like to have known in San Federigo, don’t I?”

Juliet had been expecting it, yet she was stunned. She leaned back lifelessly, felt her knees trembling and a fluttering in her throat. He didn’t look vicious; she didn’t think he was vicious, fundamentally. But the threat implicit in that final remark was unmistakable.

“So it is blackmail,” she said finally. “If I don’t get that stone for you, you’ll publicize your affair with Norma. It doesn’t matter to you that Norma has a husband who loves and trusts her, that she has two children who might suffer. Oh, no! All you care about is a rotten little piece of mineral which was probably stolen from somebody in the first place. Your own reputation doesn’t mean a thing to you, and anyway, a man can get away with most things. I think you’re a ... a ...”

“A heel,” he supplied. “Yes, I am. But there it is. The stone is probably safe enough with the Conde just now, but I’m leaving the district for good, and I’m not going without it.”

“When are you leaving?”

“I’m going into the country tomorrow and returning after Easter, on the Wednesday. By then, a man who works for me will have packed my goods and had then transferred elsewhere. You must get the stone within the next week and I’ll call for it on that Wednesday, before I leave the district.”

“You mustn’t come here!”

“All right. Then you must bring it to me.” He was serious now, and direct. “If I had any idea where the Conde might keep the thing, I’d just lift it, and there’d be no trouble for anyone. But I haven’t, so I really haven’t much alternative but to insist that you get it for me. I’m sorry, but you’re my only link with the man.”

“He won’t give it up to me,” she said hopelessly.

“He must. For the sake of that admirable husband of Norma’s and the youngsters, you must make sure of it. I don’t care how.”

She looked at him like a bird fascinated by a snake. “I believe you really would tell the world about your friendship with Norma.”

“I’m glad you believe it. I’ve no pity for a woman who deceives the people she pretends to love; she’d simply be getting what she’s probably asked for a dozen times. It’s too bad you happen to be tied up in it, though. I wish you were a harpy, so that I could enjoy this.”

“If that’s an apology for the spot you’re putting me in, you can keep it,” she said unevenly. “If I can possibly get the stone, I will. Please go.”

He got lazily to his feet, and the smile was back in his tones. “Good girl! I knew you would. Keep the thing safe, and I’ll meet you on the Wednesday after Easter, down in the Alameda. The statue of Columbus—know it? There are park benches just behind it, and I’ll see you there, at three in the afternoon when everyone’s at siesta. Got that?”

Juliet only nodded, and she didn’t trust herself to stand up; nor did she answer his casual, “Cheerio. Happy days!”

She heard him drop down the steps to the path, noticed that he actually began to whistle a popular tune as he went down to the gate, and knew that he was too immersed in himself to realize what his visit had meant to Juliet Darrell.

She became aware that her head was aching violently, and that her hands were clammy. Somehow, she got up and closed the door, shot the bolt. Then she went up to her bedroom and made ready for bed. Some time, she would begin to rebel against this accumulation of troubles which had resulted from posting that packet for Norma. Just now, though, she was glad to crawl into bed and try to sleep.

Luisa, after her first night out for some weeks, was full of gossip next morning. She had met her two nephews, who were in service at the Castillo, and though she disapproved of their indiscreet talk of happenings within those exalted precincts, she nevertheless remembered most of what they had said, and repeated it to Juliet.

Don Manuel Verrar had left San Federigo to spend a few days with relations, after which he would go on to Madrid for instructions from his department; he was not expected back in San Federigo. Mario Perez was fully recovered, but he was transferring for a couple of months to the wolfram mine owned by the Conde and his father. It was suddenly thought necessary that he should learn about the production side of the business in which he would one day take his father’s place. It wasn’t known whether Mario would become engaged to his cousin before he left, but there was rumor of it.

The choicest piece of news concerned the Conde himself.

“He is having the yacht repainted, and new furniture in the cabins! What do you think of that?” demanded the jubilant Lui
s
a in her hoarse tones. “Naturally it is for the honeymoon!”

“Unless he was tired of the color scheme,” suggested Juliet.

“Ah, but you have not heard all! Senorita Perez is helping him to choose the colors. That is surprising, no?”

Not so very, thought Juliet. Carmen was the likeliest candidate. Not that she would make as regal a Condesa as Elena de Mendoza might have done; nor would she have quite the vivacity—a quality one might suppose the Conde admired in a woman—of Lupita da Silva. But she was pretty and clinging and sultry-looking, and she was likely to be very obedient.