Sweet Revenge (3 page)

Paul's cheeks reddened. 'Of course not.' He hunched his shoulders. 'Anyway, why am I so repugnant to you all of a sudden?'

'You're not repugnant to me, Paul. It's not that. It's just that we aren't at all suited to one another. I like you - but I could never love you.'

'All right, all right. You don't have to rub it in,' said Paul sulkily. 'Now to details...'

Toni sighed. 'No, wait! Give me time to think about it. I can't just decide in a moment. This is a big thing for me. Besides, if I disappear into the interior of Portugal with a strange male the agency in London who employed me in the first place are going to think it mighty peculiar when this Senhora de Calle lets them know I've been dismissed for attempted seduction, and I haven't even made an appearance.'

'Does that matter? I mean, there are heaps of agencies in London.'

'Y-e-s,' said Toni doubtfully. 'Oh, Paul, I wish I could just go as a friend or something.'

Paul grimaced. 'Heavens, I never thought you were a prig!'

'I'm not - that is - oh, all right, all right. I'll give it a try. It will be a bit of an adventure anyway. You swear this grandmother of yours won't be calling in the preacher as soon as we arrive?'

Paul laughed, half with relief, Toni thought wonderingly. 'No, of course not. So long as I'm engaged, that will be as good as the real thing for her.'

Toni felt sceptical, and then shook away the twinges of conscience that pricked her. She was not by nature a deceitful girl, and only the longing to stay a little longer in this enchanting country had tipped the scales in Paul's direction.

T
HEY
drove east from Lisbon the. following morning, passing through some of the most beautiful countryside Toni had ever seen. She would have liked to have taken the journey in easy stages, exploring as she went, but Paul obviously had only his destination in mind, and so she kept silent. For a while they followed the west bank of the Tagus, the sprawling river which provides a natural boundary to the city of Lisbon, before turning north towards Oporto.

Paul had told her that the
quinta,
which is the Portuguese word for estate, occupied a huge stretch of land bordering the coast in places, then stretching inland to where the vineyards flourished on the terraces above the Douro river. As he enlarged upon his family's affairs Toni ventured to ask:

'Does your grandmother have a manager to run the estate for her?'

Paul lifted his shoulders for a moment, as though finding it difficult to answer her, and then he said: 'Well, a manager does run the estate — but — well, Toni, my grandmother doesn't
own
the estate. It's a family concern that passes down from father to son.'

Toni frowned. 'But your mother - I mean - I thought your mother was your grandmother's only offspring.'

'I'm sorry if I misled you,' said Paul swiftly, although Toni had the feeling that he wasn't sorry at all. 'My mother had a brother, my Uncle Raoul. Naturally, he » now owns the estate.'

'I see.' Toni moved restlessly. 'I think you'd better tell me some more about this family of yours. All you appear to have revealed to me are the things they know about your ex-fiancee. It would be a good idea if I learned what Janet knew about them.'

Paul pulled out his cigarettes, and said: 'Light me one, Toni.' Then he grimaced. 'I didn't want to confuse you, that's all. I mean, there isn't a lot to know.' He took the lighted cigarette she handed him. 'My uncle lives at the house, of course. He's a widower. He has a daughter, Francesca, she's thirteen, I believe.'

Toni stared at him. 'Go on. Who else lives at the
quinta
?' Her voice was cool, and Paul looked exasperated.

'Stop getting so edgy!' he exclaimed. 'After all, it's no worse that meeting any other family.'

Toni reserved judgment. From what little she had learned of Portuguese families, they seemed far more severe than any English family. But it was a glorious morning, and soon she forgot her anxieties in the wonder of exclaiming at the vista spread out before them. They passed rivers and streams meandering gently in the dappled shade of fragrant pinewoods, they drove through villages where every cottage was painted a different pastel shade, blending in with the profusion of green foliage and brilliantly coloured flowers. Toni saw camellias growing wild in creamy disorder, while there were periwinkles and magnolias in abundance, spreading a carpet of perfume before them. The morning air was intoxicating and for a while Toni was content.

They stopped for lunch at an inn from where they could look down to the coast. While they ate fish stew and crusty bread rolls served by the innkeeper's buxom wife who didn't speak a word of English, Paul began to talk again about Estrada. He seemed to want to tell her something, and Toni again felt those twinges of apprehension.

'What's wrong?' she asked, sipping her wine. 'What is it you haven't told me?'

Paul flushed. 'I didn't say there was anything,' he hedged.

'I know. But I can tell there is something wrong, and it can only be to do with this affair.'

'Well, it's nothing much, Toni, really. But - well, my grandmother is a Dowager Condessa.'

'What!' Toni was incredulous. 'A Condessa! So this means that your uncle ...' Her voice trailed away.

'Yes. My uncle is Conde Raoul della Maria Estrada.'

'I see.' Toni gave an involuntary shake of her head. 'And you-really think we can get away with it? In these circumstances?'

'Why not?' Paul's voice gathered confidence when Toni did not immediately collapse at his revelations.

'Well,' Toni shrugged, 'I should imagine a Count is rather more particular about the girl his nephew is going to marry.'

'And?'

'I'm not the type! I mean - honestly, Paul, I thought this was going to be so easy - your words, not mine — and every few miles you spring some new situation on me. Why didn't you explain everything at the beginning and then I could have refused right away?'

Paul lay back in his chair, his face petulant. 'I could have let you make the whole journey without telling you,' he said sulkily. 'I think you're behaving ridiculously. Are you coming or aren't you?'

'No, I'm not!' Toni shrugged. 'As to the rest of what you said, you know very well you couldn't have allowed me to arrive at Estrada without telling me the truth. I suppose you didn't tell me before now because you knew what my reactions might be. Heavens, when you said your grandmother knew the de Calles I might have known she wasn't as ordinary as you'd have had me believe.'

Paul shrugged. 'Well, so what! What has changed, actually? The
quinta
is still there, as it has always been, my grandmother is still an old lady with a desire to see me married before she dies. I can't see anything to get alarmed about.'

'Maybe you can't, but I can. Look, Paul, I've got no desire to spend a holiday with the aristocracy. I'd hate to have to behave formally all the time, it wouldn't be like a holiday!'

Paul frowned. 'They're not all that formal.'

'Oh no? I know just how formal Portuguese families can be!'

'So we go back.'

'I guess so. I'm sorry, Paul.'

'So am I, extremely sorry,' he muttered dejectedly.

Toni felt ungrateful. After all, it would have been wonderful in other circumstances. 'Paul—' she began, when Paul sprang to his feet, as an elderly man approached them.

'Tio Joachim!' he exclaimed. 'How good it is to see you!'

The man smiled benignly, and Toni swallowed hard. Paul's uncle it was, but not Uncle Raoul. And then, to her astonishment, Paul said:

'Tio Joachim, I want you to meet Janet, my fiancee, Janet darling, this is my great-uncle Joachim, Grandmother's youngest brother!'

Toni hesitated only a moment, casting a baleful glance at Paul, and then she rose too, and allowed the introductions to continue. There was little she could do about it, short of calling Paul a liar, and her innate sense of decency would not allow her to disgrace him in that way in front of his uncle. So she replied politely to Uncle Joachim's questions, behaving as Janet West, Paul's fiancee.

Joachim Vallarez did not stay long. He was merely passing through on his way to Coimbra, and the inn was his usual port of call. He was a harmless, charming old man, without any undue curiosity about his great- nephew's affairs, and in consequence Toni had plenty of time to think of answers to his questions. She had to attune herself to being an office worker, which was what Paul had told her Janet was, instead of remaining the governess she was used to. Otherwise it was perfectly simple, so long as she answered to the name of Janet.

After the old man had left, Paul looked rather smug. 'Well, you did it,' he said, lighting a cigarette. 'You had me sweating for a minute, but you didn't let me down. I thought you did admirably!'

Toni compressed her lips for a moment. 'I hadn't much choice, had I? Short of calling you a liar?'

'No, you hadn't. I banked on your not doing that!' He gave a short laugh. 'Uncle Joachim will tell my grandmother all about you, if you still insist we go back. It will upset her terribly if she thinks we've been in the district without visiting her.'

'I know, I know!' Toni put her hands over her ears for a second. 'All right, Paul, you win. I'll go on with it. Just don't push me too far, that's all.'

They arrived at Estrada in the late afternoon. They had been passing through the Estrada lands for some time, approaching the coastline all the way. Here the coast was strewn with tiny bays and inlets, coves yellow with sand, lapped by the azure blue waters of the Atlantic. Toni couldn't deny the surge of well-being she was feeling, and even the prospect of meeting a Dowager Condessa couldn't douse her enthusiasm.

Then, as they began the approach to the home of the della Maria Estradas, she caught her breath in amazement. Ahead of them, among pine trees,
looking
like a fairy-tale palace, was a small, exquisite castle, turreted and moated, its grey stone walls turning a faint pink in the glow of the afternoon sun.

'Oh, Paul,' she gasped. 'This surely can't be—'

'Yes. The Castelo Estrada! Do you like it?'

'But you never told me…' Her voice trailed away.

'I suppose I ought to have known that something like this was at the end of it.' She thought cynically of the unknown Janet and her desire for riches. 'It's a pity Janet couldn't have seen this. She would certainly not have quarrelled with you then.'

'Yes.' Paul sounded thoughtful. 'However, beautiful places and beautiful things are of little use to Janet, or me, for that matter.'

Toni glanced at him, frowning. 'What do you mean?'

Paul snorted sardonically. 'It surely must have crossed even your mind that to maintain a castle in this day and age takes money, plenty of money!'

Toni screwed up her nose. 'That sounds mercenary, Paul.'

'I know. It was meant to.'

'Do you mean that if this - castle - was yours, you would sell it?' Her tone was incredulous.

'Well, maybe not if I had Uncle Raoul's income, but certainly if I were left the castle on a pittance, it would have to go. I'm no sentimentalist, Toni. As I've said, I get enjoyment from spending money, not looking at it!'

Toni did not reply. She thought Paul was very immature in some ways. With her innate love of beauty in all things, she couldn't understand the kind of mentality that could discount a building so mellowed with historical age in favour of money to be spent having a good time. In any case, she thought dryly, Paul's ideas of having a good time and her own were doubtless divergent.

The car swept up a long, gravelled drive. Before the impressive facade of the castle it widened into a courtyard, while a narrow bridge spanned the moat and led into the inner recesses of the castle. The portcullis was no longer in use, but Toni, with her vivid imagination, could well picture the scene as it had once appeared to weary travellers, newly arrived in the country. The castle was placed in a strategic position, with the hills above providing .a natural defence against unwary attack behind, and the sea in front.

The car negotiated the bridge, and they were in the courtyard, with Paul turning off the car's engine, and glancing encouragingly at Toni. Toni felt nervousness assail her, but she climbed out of the car swiftly, not ' allowing herself to think. There was no one about, and she looked at Paul, questioningly.

'Siesta,' replied Paul, in explanation. 'Afternoons are pretty quiet around here.'

'I see,' Toni nodded, and bent to lift her handbag out of the car. As she did so she became aware that they were being observed by a young girl, standing in the shadows of a huge oaken door. She was mostly in shadow, but Toni thought she looked about fourteen. Then she remembered. This would probably be Francesca, the Conde's daughter.

'Paul,' she murmured, looking at him and moving her head slightly in the child's direction.

Paul looked round. Then he nodded, and after lifting the cases out of the boot, he straightened and looking across at the girl, said: 'Hello, Francesca! Aren't you coming to greet us?'

Francesca moved her shoulders indolently, and came reluctantly out of her hiding place. Now, in the sunlight, Toni could see she was very dark-skinned, her hair long and black and plaited into a single braid. Dressed in a short flared skirt and a white blouse, slip- on sandals on her bare feet, she could have been any one of the young peasant girls they had encountered on their journey from Lisbon. Her face was quite attractive, but it had a petulant expression, and Toni thought with a feeling of apprehension that Francesca might prove to be more intimidating than her grandmother. She looked as though she was used to .having her own way, and as she was the only child in a house governed by an elderly relation she was very probably thoroughly spoilt.

Thrusting aside these uncharitable thoughts, Toni smiled at her now, but there was no answering smile, and instead Francesca put her hands on her hips, and said insolently:

'You were supposed to be here yesterday,
primo
Paul.'

Her English was very good, and Toni glanced at Paul to see what his reaction to this might be.