Sweet Revenge (9 page)

'Oh, but why?' exclaimed Isabel. 'We are not blind to the misery we can find in our streets. But such reforms are enormously difficult to achieve.'

'Yes,' Toni nodded. 'Nevertheless, here there are such tremendous extremes - the very rich, and the very poor.'

'And who can say who is the happier?' remarked the Conde, joining them, standing lazily beside Toni's seat, a drink between his long fingers. 'You are of that breed of people who cannot see that all things are relative.'

Toni flushed. 'That's the kind of defence always put up by - by - such as you,' she replied, bending her head.

'J - Janet!' exclaimed Paul.

'Be still, Paul!' The Conde's eyes were narrowed. 'Your fiancee interests me greatly. Do go on. Explain yourself,
senhorita.'

Toni lifted her shoulders, aware now that she had the attention of the whole party. She saw Francesca watching her, her expression amused and insolent and her defiance hardened.

'What more is there to say?' she asked coolly, challenging the Conde with the clear green transparency of her eyes. 'Surely I've said it all. What I would like to know is how you can say so carelessly that all things are relative. What proof have you of this?'

The Conde moved indolently, and Toni was reminded of the lithe, supple menace of a jungle beast.
'Senhorita
,' he said softly, 'I do not have to prove myself to you. Can you deny, however, that during the course of one's life, one's needs, one's pleasures, change? You, for instance, would not enjoy - candybars, trips to the zoo, a new teddy bear, today. Your - shall we say - pleasures are more sophisticated. You enjoy a - cigarette, a touch from a lover's lips, a caress. ...' His voice was deliberately soft and taunting, and Toni shivered. 'But can you also say, in all sincerity, that these more sophisticated pleasures give you more - physical and mental enjoyment than the simpler, childish things you used to do?'

Toni shook her head. 'Go on.'

The Conde smiled. 'So then is life relative. A millionaire gets pleasure from his money, from his yachts, his private plane, perhaps. The poor man enjoys simpler things, but with no less satisfaction.'

'Poverty can't be dismissed so easily,' retorted Toni, ignoring Paul's scandalized gesticulations.

'I do not dismiss it,
senhorita
.' The Conde's voice was cold now. 'There is no poverty on my estates. Nevertheless, in all walks of life there must be the servant and the master. Without both of these nothing would be accomplished. The gulf between the two is greater in some places than in others, but the principle works equally well.'

'A kind of dictatorship, in fact.'

'Would you rather have the kind of groping incompetence one finds when a man tries to do a job he cannot do? Or the organized expertise of the specialist?'

'I suppose it's a case of better the devil you know,' remarked Toni dryly, and was pleased when the Conde's eyes darkened ominously.

'Senhorita
—' he began, when Laura Passamentes came up to him, sliding a possessive arm through his.

'Raoul,
querido,'
she murmured gently. 'I think your position is quite clear.' She glanced contemptuously at Toni. 'If the
senhorita
does not accept it, she is merely one alone in her beliefs. Can we not dance a little?'

The Conde's expression changed, and Toni noticed that his scar which had seemed so pronounced a few moments ago relaxed a little as the Conde himself relaxed. He looked down at Laura with a softened expression, and Toni bent her head, not watching them. There was something intimate about that look and she could not understand her own revulsion at the sight.

Later in the evening, while Paul was dancing with Isabel, Toni found herself studying the Conde's scar, pondering on its origin. Obviously, he could have had plastic surgery to remove the scar completely, but he chose not to do so, and because of it had added something infinitely disturbing to his features. Then she found his eyes upon her, and she quickly looked away.

Leaving the lounge she walked along the corridor which she had found led to the huge banqueting hall of the castle where they had first entered the building. The passage was lit-at intervals by electric candles in sconces. The hall itself, when she pushed open the heavy doors, was deserted and she walked in with some pleasure, glad of the opportunity to explore alone. The coat of arms over the fireplace was, she realized, a larger replica of the shield the Conde had on his car, and looked magnificent in crimson and silver. She studied it for a moment before turning to look at the heavy oak table and matching chairs. The rugs on the floor, some of which still were attached to the animals' heads, gave the place a medieval air, and she wondered what nights of beer drinking and debauchery had preceded the present empty grandeur of the hall. She could picture the table, heavily laden with meat and fruit, silver goblets overflowing with red wine, serving wenches and soldiers. . .. Her thoughts were real and imaginative, and she did not hear the doors open and close until someone said:

'What is wrong,
senhorita
? Has our small difference of opinion destroyed your taste for company?'

Toni swung round, her hair framing her lightly tanned features.

'You wouldn't be following me,
senhor
?' she countered, with an attempt at a coolness she did not feel.

He did not answer, but merely moved further into the hall, looking tall, and lean and attractive. Toni put a hand to her throat, and turned away, deliberately pretending to examine the wall tapestry nearby which depicted a typical hunting scene. He joined her, standing beside her, watching the fleeting expressions which crossed her face so revealingly.

'You like my castle,
senhorita
?' he asked softly.

'Of course. Anyone would.' Toni was abrupt.

'Not anyone, not everyone. Paul has little time for the - how shall I put it? - beautiful things in life. To him things must be taken, or used, or destroyed. Never simply appreciated.'

Toni looked up at him curiously. 'You haven't much of an opinion of Paul, have you?' She frowned. 'Why?'

The Conde shrugged his shoulders. 'It is not for me to destroy
your
illusions,
senhorita.'

Toni compressed her lips for a moment. 'You wouldn't, anyway,' she said sharply. 'What has he done? Heavens, he's barely thirty, too young to have lived a life so objectionable to yourself!'

The Conde's eyes narrowed. '
Senhorita
, you obviously have no conception of what you are talking about, and I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself. My reasons for not - liking - my nephew are all mine, and I do not wish to discuss them.'

Toni gave an exasperated sigh. 'Your - your sister must be quite a lot older than you are,' she probed.

'Paul's mother is exactly ten years older than myself,' he returned smoothly, 'though why that should interest you I cannot imagine.'

Toni thought about that. It made the Conde about thirty-nine or forty. Physically, he looked younger, but mentally she thought he was fully aware of the vagaries of life which only experience can teach you. She wondered whether his antipathy towards Paul had anything to do with Paul's mother, his sister. Maybe he was like his father, ingrained with family concerns, unwilling to admit a stranger to their midst. And yet he had married a Frenchwoman, so Paul had said, and that didn't quite add up. She thought of Francesca's fanatical devotion to her father, and for the first time felt the faint glimmerings of understanding towards the girl. Her father was not the kind of man to live the life of a celibate, and maybe she was afraid he might marry someone entirely unsuitable. Toni sighed. It was not her problem, yet she was making it so.

Now she began to walk slowly towards the door. 'Are you leaving,
senhorita?'
he asked mockingly. 'Does my presence annoy you? Or disturb you?'

Toni swung round. 'You don't disturb me,
senhor,'
she exclaimed vehemently.

'No?'

'No. Only in so far as I cannot understand your bigoted attitude.'

The Conde's eyes were dark with anger, and she felt a curious feeling, a mixture of fear and excitement, at the knowledge that she knew very little of this man whose emotions could erupt with such violence.

He took a step towards her, but suddenly she was really afraid, and without waiting for his reply, she fled out of the door, and along the corridor towards the lounge. In her haste, she did not see the girl approaching from the opposite direction and almost ran into Francesca. Francesca stared at her in astonishment, but Toni had no time to care about the possible effects of her actions on Francesca. She had the strangest feeling of claustrophobia and she had to escape from the suffocated breathlessness she was enduring.

'Senhorita
, is something wrong?' Francesca's lips tightened.

Toni stared at her, shaking her head, and biting her lips. 'No - no - of course, nothing is wrong!' she murmured. 'Excuse me!'

Francesca watched her until she was out of sight, a cold mask enfolding her young face.

T
HE
next day Paul told her that the Conde had left for Lisbon again. Toni felt a sense of relief, and yet the Conde's presence had given her a kind of stimulation it was difficult to understand.

'When are we leaving, Paul?' she asked bluntly. 'We've been here four days already. You told me it was only to be a short visit.'

Paul moved restlessly. They were sitting on the beach below the
castelo,
the sun warm on their bare shoulders. He opened his cigarette case and extracted two, handing one to Toni thoughtfully.

'What's the hurry?' he parried. 'You said yourself you've no job to go back to. I would have thought you would appreciate not having anything to do but eat, sleep and lie in the sun.'

Toni leaned forward to light her cigarette, then blew the smoke into the air reflectively. 'You shouldn't speculate about me, Paul. I'm not like you. That was always the trouble. You always thought you knew best, for both of us.'

'But you do like it here?'

Toni shrugged. 'I like the
castelo
and naturally I like the climate. As to the rest - well, the Condessa is kind and friendly, but I see little' of her. Francesca is openly antagonistic!'

'And Raoul?' Paul's eyes were intent. 'He's your real problem, isn't he?'

Toni shaded her eyes and looked out to sea. 'Not particularly.'

Paul looked disgruntled. 'Oh, don't give me that, Toni,
please
! I'm not blind, you know!'

'Just what do you mean by that?'

Paul's lips twisted. 'You know perfectly well what I mean, Toni Morley! Your conversation with my dear uncle last night did not go unnoticed!' He snorted. 'Not only by me, I might add. Laura didn't like it either. No one, but no one, argues with the Conde della Maria Estrada!'

Toni bent her head, running a hand under the weight of her hair. 'Is that so? And what did you all gather from it, then?'

Paul grimaced. 'Obviously, you're attracted by him.'

'What!' Toni stared at him.

'Sure. Even I don't need to be drawn a picture, Toni. I may be thick in some ways, but in this, so far as you're concerned, I'm perceptive.'

'Then you're allowing your perception to lead you astray,' retorted Toni hotly. 'Your uncle is of no interest to me, except in as much as he intrigues me by his obvious antagonism towards you. Why? What has he got against you? Apart from your obvious desire to increase your financial status at the expense of your grandmother?'

Paul lay back, blowing smoke-rings into the air. 'Why should there be anything else?'

'Because he's not a stupid man! Whatever else he may be, he has concrete reasons for not wanting you here, and I'd like to know what they are.'

'I guess you would at that!' Paul laughed. 'Maybe you have some ideas of your own, Toni. After all, Uncle Raoul has everything going for him, hasn't he? Attraction, if you can ignore that distortion of his face by the famous scar! A beautiful home, that appeals to you artistically! And finally, an income in the region of a hundred thousand a year!'

Toni gave him a scornful glance. 'Oh, Paul, I'd hate to have your mind!' She studied the tip of her cigarette. 'Do you honestly imagine I'd be foolish enough to be interested in a man because of his money?'

'Why not? Thousands of women are!'

'I am not thousands of women. I'm me! I couldn't be like some of these girls who marry men years and years older than themselves in the hope that they'll take a powder in a couple of years, leaving them the usual wealthy widow! I'd hate to have some old man pawing me!' she shivered.

Paul sat up. 'You can hardly put Raoul into that class, darling. And I'm pretty sure you'd like him to - paw you - as you put it!'

Toni's fingers stung across his cheek, and he stared at her furiously as they became aware of a third person crossing the sands towards them.

'You bitch!' muttered Paul, and then Francesca was standing over them, looking down, her expression insolent.

'What's wrong?' she asked sneeringly. 'Dissension in the happy home already?'

'Get lost, Francesca,' muttered Paul, rubbing his cheek.

'No, don't.' Toni rose to her feet, tall and slim in a dark blue bathing suit. 'Are you going swimming, Francesca?'

Francesca considered her insolently. 'I may be. Why?'

'Can I come with you?'

The girl lifted her shoulders indolently, and then a narrowed expression in her eyes brought a reluctant reply. 'I suppose so. I'm going to the rock basin.'

Paul stood up too. '
Janet!'
he said harshly.

Toni wrinkled her nose at him, and turning walked away with Francesca without looking back. They crossed the mossy, slippery rocks at the far side of the beach and came upon a natural basin some twenty feet across which provided a perfect swimming pool. Toni dropped the towel she was carrying, and without waiting for Francesca, she dived into the cool depths. The water was sun-warm and creamed over her hot limbs like satin. She surfaced, shaking back her long hair which she had secured with the usual elastic bands. Francesca was still standing on the rocks, watching her. She had shed her own wrap to reveal a rather demure suit in black and white stripes, with broad shoulder straps that looked old-fashioned and clumsy.