Linda stood on the verandah of her bedroom and stared out over the immaculate grounds of the Palacio de Dominga. Although she had been prepared for something quite out of the ordinary, she had never in her wildest dreams imagined anything as impressive as the grandeur that met her gaze immediately she had stepped from the magnificent white Rolls Royce which had brought her and the children from the airport. Flying the pennant bearing the Dominga crest, it was driven by a chauffeur in a dark blue and gold uniform that looked as if it had come straight from the tailors. His name, he said, was Ferdinand, but he had scarcely spoken this information when all the children shouted in chorus,
'Hi, Ferdy!' And then Felix added slowly, 'How is Helena-Maria?'
'My little daughter is fully recovered, Felix. It is thoughtful of you to ask about her.' The man spoke in broken English, although Linda knew that all three children spoke Portuguese fluently. He was speaking English in respect for her and somehow the act seemed to send warmth spreading through her whole body.
It had been cold and lifeless for so long….
'Miss-Dom Duarte will see you now.'
Linda swung around, faintly startled as Leonor, one of the maids, came to the room behind her and stood, white-aproned and straight, in the frame of the French window.
'Thank you….' She felt awkward even with the maid. 'Er-shall you conduct me to him? I'm afraid I should become lost otherwise.'
A smile like that of the Mona Lisa touched the girl's mouth.
'He said I must accompany you, miss,' she said, her English rather better than that of the chauffeur but heavily accented for all that. It amazed Linda that all these servants could speak her language. She had been met by another, older woman whom she took to be the housekeeper, a woman dignified and rather austere, but she had greeted Linda with a smile nevertheless, and had motioned Leonor to take the children up to the rooms they usually occupied when on holiday here. The older woman had taken Linda to her bedroom, an apartment of breathtaking luxury with its own dressing and bathrooms.
'Dom Duarte offers his apology at not being able to meet you himself,' she had said-and this was when a smile appeared! 'But he will see you in about half an hour's time. Meanwhile, perhaps you would like to freshen up? Your suitcase will be up directly-Adolfo will bring it.'
The manner of the woman was gracious but cool, her English impeccable. Linda had looked at herself critically in the long, silver-gilt framed mirror and a deep sigh escaped her. For although she had washed her hair it did not shine as it used to, and it seemed to hang in 'rats' tails instead of being springy and flicking up at the ends. Her face-well, she could do nothing about its sallow aspect, nor did she want to do anything about the paleness of her lips. Rouge would have improved them but she didn't even own any these days. Her dress, of dull grey jersey, had been the despair of her aunt when she had decided to buy it the day before yesterday in readiness for wearing for this trip.
There was no need for this deliberate drabness, her aunt had said, and for the first time there was an admonishing note in her voice. Linda had let it all fall on deaf ears. She had no wish to make herself attractive.
'This way, miss.' Leonor was standing aside for Linda to enter the bedroom. 'It is a nice view from your window, yes?'
'Very charming.' Linda still felt awkward and wondered how she would be feeling a few moments from now when she came face to face with the august master of the Palacio de Dominga.
Leonor led her down the wide, curving balustraded staircase and into the vast entrance hall through which she had already come. She now noticed things she had missed: the high wide archways hung with exotic plants, the tapestried walls, the ancient chests in black oak, the massive bronze urns spilling over with flowers. Persian rugs, cabinets filled with rare porcelain, ancient azulegos-those lovely blue and white tiles-the French furniture… all compounded to create an impression of great wealth, yet one of exquisite good taste as well. Linda had the impression as she passed through this great and imposing entrance hall for the second time, that although the house must be magnificent, it was a 'lived-in' home, cherished in the same way as a poor fisherman down by the shore might cherish his small cottage.
At last the room was reached and Linda was standing outside a massive door flanked by Doric-style wooden columns topped by the coat of arms of the Dominga family. She thought of Marianna and felt very sad for her.
To lose all this…
Leonor tapped lightly and was bidden to enter.
'Mrs. Kendall….' She bobbed a curtsy and turned to leave the room.
Linda swallowed, then felt angry with herself for her nervousness. After all, she had come here on an errand and as this was now accomplished she was here merely to be interviewed, thanked, told how long she must stay, and perhaps given her wages-or part of them.
'Do sit down.' The cultured voice was low and faintly accented.
She took possession of the chair, sitting right on the edge and taking a swift, surreptitious glance around her.
The room was a study of massive proportions, with a huge Regency desk, its tooled top of red leather almost covered with ledgers and files and other evidence of the work that went on here. As owner of one of the districts largest quintas, Dom Duarte had masses of paper work to attend to and Alice had mentioned that he did it all himself. He employed an estate manager but all the 'office work' was carried out by Dom Duarte, its being traditional in the family. His father and grandfather had run the quinta in the same way.
'You had a good flight, Mrs. Kendall?' His voice brought her eyes to his face. She had been admiring the crimson walls with their embossed satin covering, the Aubusson carpet, the crystal chandeliers-rare Waterford antiques, she was later to learn.
'Yes, thank you, Mr.-er-Dom Duarte.' She felt the hot blood flow into her cheeks, tinting them with colour. This man was so magnificent that she felt she ought to be addressing him as 'Your Majesty'! His features were clear-cut, chiselled in aristocratic lines, his skin smooth and dark as well-matured teak. The mouth was firm yet sensual, the eyes, framed by long thick lashes, seemed almost black but were in fact charcoal grey with metallic glints; the fact that they were so deep-set made them appear darker, she realised. He had black hair inclined to wave against a wide, unlined forehead, thick hair, gleaming with cleanness and health.
Unconsciously Linda drew a hand through her own hair, hotly conscious of all that it lacked.
Yet why should she suddenly care what she looked like? Not for over two years had she bothered even to make herself presentable, for she was merely existing-certainly not living.
She was conscious of Dom Duarte's stare, his critical examination. Auntie Sal had said that she looked well over thirty, she recalled, and that was before she had donned the drab grey jersey wool dress-well, it wasn't wool, but a man-made fibre which, declared Auntie Sal, made it appear even more drab than it would had it been made of some decent material.
'I'm sorry I couldn't have met you immediately on your arrival,' he was saying. 'I had things to do.' That was all; she guessed that he would not bother with explanations, especially to an employee, which was in effect what she was. 'However, we can now have a little chat. I believe Mrs. Sutherland did mention to you that I would wish you to stay on with the children for a while?'
I would wish… Not I hope you will stay on, or would you mind staying on? No, an order… Linda was more concerned, however, with the words 'for a while.'
She said, looking at him,
'How long would you want me to stay? I understood it would be only for a few days.'
He was shaking his head even before she had finished speaking. And his mouth was set in that kind of a line which made Linda distinctly uneasy.
'I want you to stay until I get someone suitable, and that won't be an easy or a quick matter. I have to advertise, as the agency in town can't help me. I have already consulted them, naturally, but with no success.' He was tapping a blotter idly with a gold paper knife. 'You are not in employment, I understand?'
'No, but-'
'In that case there seems to be no problem. You will be in my employ as the children's nanny-'
'Dom Duarte-'
'Mrs. Kendall,' he said in a very soft tone, 'I am not used to being interrupted. Please remember that in future. And now, there is the question of your salary. If the sum I have in mind is unsuitable then say so at once.' He mentioned the salary; Linda's eyes widened to their greatest extent and she thought that if money had had any importance in her life then she would be wanting the post to go on indefinitely!
But money meant nothing to her and she merely said,
'I can't stay more than a week, Dom Duarte. I'm sorry.'
The fine eyebrows came together in a frown.
'A week? Is there some reason why you can't stay longer?'
'I live with my aunt,' she began, then stopped, feeling foolish because she had no idea what else she had to say. She rather thought that Auntie Sal would welcome being on her own for a while.
'Mrs. Sutherland did mention that. But she also mentioned that you weren't doing anything much at the present time-' He stopped and hesitated as if debating on whether or not to say what was in his mind. However, she was soon hearing him speak again, in that most attractive foreign voice with its faint hint of an accent. 'I believe you have had a tragedy in your life?'
She looked down at her hands. Her lips moved convulsively but it was some moments before she could articulate words. When she did her voice was rough and husky with emotion.
'Yes, I lost my husband and two children in a car accident.'
There was a small silence; she glanced up to see a dark face shaded with compassion.
'I hadn't realised it was as bad as that,' he said presently. 'Mrs. Sutherland didn't say much-merely that you'd had a bereavement.' He paused a moment. 'How old were your children?' he then asked.
'Three-they-they were twins-a boy and a girl….' She was on the edge of tears and half rose from the chair. 'I'm sorry-I had better go-'
'No; sit down, Mrs. Kendall. Collect yourself for a few minutes. I have some phone calls to make which I shall do in another room.' With that he rose from behind the desk and quietly left the room.
Within five minutes or so Leonor came in carrying a silver tray on which was a small silver tea set and some delicate china-a cup and saucer and a plate. Beneath a silver cover was a hot buttered muffin which smelled so delicious that despite how she was feeling Linda just had to eat it. Leonor had obviously received specific orders, for once she had poured a cup of tea and uncovered the muffin she turned and went out.
The Conde was austere to look at, forbidding in that his noble features were stern, with that kind of look that makes one feel he would be immovable once he had made up his mind about anything. He had an air of sheer arrogance about him, too, and yet… he could be kind.
On his return she was able to produce a smile, albeit a thin one, but yet it brought a look of approval. His dark eyes rested for a space on the tray.
'Was the tea to your liking?' he inquired and she nodded immediately.
'It was lovely. I enjoyed it. Thank you.' She was awkward again, uncomfortable in his presence.
'And have you changed your mind about the post I am offering?'
She paused. It seemed the height of ungraciousness to decline the offer now that he had been so kind to her.
'Can I think about it and give you my answer in the morning?' she queried at last.
'If that is what you want.' His voice had a crisp edge to it which for some quite incomprehensible reason hurt her a little.
'I feel I must think about it.' Linda's voice was low and apologetic. 'You see, I hadn't expected to be asked to stay any longer than a few days-a week at the most.'
'Your aunt, with whom you live-will she mind very much if you stay until I find someone suitable?'
'I feel she won't mind at all.' Linda, her awkwardness dissolving somewhat, explained about her aunt and how she liked to live alone. 'Perhaps,' ended Linda feeling she was being driven by some force beyond her control, 'I shall decide to stay-just for a while.'
'That's fine.' He seemed to think it was settled because he added briskly, 'And the salary? It suits you?'
'It's too much-' The statement was out before she realised it and she saw the hint of an amused smile touch the fine outline of his mouth.
'Mrs. Kendall, that is the first time any prospective employee has ever said a thing like that to me.' He rose from the chair which he had occupied after re-entering the study. 'It's settled, then. You will be shown the suite which the children will occupy and where they will take their lessons-'
'Lessons-' The interruption came out before she had time to suppress it and she was swift to offer an apology, colouring up at the same time.
'I do not expect you to give them anything complicated. They must have some lessons, though, if only to keep them out of mischief. I shall get some books brought in and so you should have no difficulty in giving them some elementary instruction in the simple maths they are used to doing, and whatever else-' He broke off, flicking a hand impatiently. 'I leave it to you, Mrs. Kendall.'
***
She was in her room when Leonor came to say that she would show her the suite the children were to occupy. It was plain that although there were many maids in the Palacio the Conde was using only Leonor to look after Linda and for this she was grateful since she would be able to get used to the girl and in consequence lose her awkwardness.
'Thank you. Where are the children now?' It was barely ten minutes since she had left Dom Duarte's study, and less than an hour since she had arrived at the Palacio.
'Dom Duarte said they are not to trouble you today, miss, so Tereza is looking after them. She will see to their evening meal and put them to bed. They are used to her because they have visited here with their mother several times. Tereza is my sister and she has worked here for a year longer than I.'
'And how long have you been working here?' The question was put merely for the sake of making conversation as Linda followed the Portuguese girl from the bedroom onto the wide gallery from which one could look down on to the great entrance hall.
'Four years. I am very happy. Dom Duarte is good to us all.' She stopped eventually at a high wide door and opened it. 'There are three bedrooms, a sitting-room and a schoolroom-oh, and there are bathrooms with each bedroom, of course.' She was opening one door after another as she spoke. Linda, having entered in her wake, just stood and stared. 'It's the Nursery Suite,' explained Leonor. 'At one time it was much larger because the family had many more children than they do these days.'
'Much larger?'
'There were another four bedrooms.'
'Has Dom Duarte any brothers and sisters-other than the children's mother, I mean?' Linda had no idea why she put the question.
'He has two brothers and one sister. Their names are Juan and Diaz and Inez.'
'They're all younger, of course?'
'His brothers are-Juan is twenty-eight and Diaz a year younger, but Inez is thirty-two and she is married with two children-' The girl stopped abruptly, which caused Linda to glance sharply at her. The pretty face was set, the brown eyes glinting. 'They come to stay sometimes,' continued Leonor at length. 'Always at Christmas they come-all the family of a great fidalgo comes to his home at Christmas. We make much of it in Portugal.'
'Fidalgo?' echoed Linda. 'What does that mean exactly?'
'That is what a great nobleman is called.'
'I see….' For the first time in two years Linda was finding herself interested in something. 'And Christmas is a very special time here in Portugal, you say?'
'Yes. You will not be here for Christmas?'
Linda shook her head.
'No; I'm staying only until Dom Duarte gets a nanny for the children.'
The girl grimaced.
'It takes a long time, and maybe the children's mother will be out of hospital before he manages to get anybody.' She closed the door she was holding and looked at her. 'If you can, you might as well stay.'
'You sound as if you'd like me to.'
A smile lit the girl's eyes.
'I would. I very much like English people. I hope one day to visit your country.'
'I shall invite you when I am in my own home again and settled.'
'In your own home, miss?'
Linda bit her lip, staggered that she had been able to talk to this girl, a stranger, like this. It was as though the change of scene and environment had loosened up some tightness which had seized her on the day of the tragedy and never eased since.
'I live with an aunt at present,' she said at last. 'But soon I shall return to my own house.' She smiled thinly at the girl. 'I'll keep my promise,' she said.
'That will be lovely! I shall look forward to it.'
'The three children are sleeping in there tonight?' Linda was asking when eventually Leonor was leaving her, outside her own room.
The girl shook her head.
'No; they usually sleep in the south wing and Dom Duarte's put them there for tonight, just in case they are upset by the disruption in their lives. But tomorrow they'll be moving into the Nursery Suite.'
Linda would have liked to go in and say good night to the children but she could not bring herself to ask and so she went back to her room, wondering where she was supposed to eat. Not that she was hungry; she never was these days, but her aunt had insisted on her eating regularly, with dinner being served at around eight o'clock.
To her surprise and dismay Leonor came back about half an hour later to say that the Conde had invited her to take dinner with him.
'Oh….' Linda stemmed the refusal in time; she had no wish to reveal embarrassment before the girl. 'I-er-haven't brought anything suitable for dining,' she did add, feeling this might make an adequate enough excuse.
'He did say that perhaps you would be too tired to change, miss, and so he wouldn't change either.' The girl's expression revealed nothing of her thoughts. 'That dress will be all right, I'm sure.'
Just what had been said? Linda wondered, then decided that the Conde would be quite adept at conveying a meaning in the most subtle way possible, if the necessity arose.
'Very well. Does Dom Duarte want me to come down now?'
'He said in about twenty minutes to half an hour, miss.'
'Thank you.' Linda paused. 'I'll not find my way-'
'It's the room two doors down the hall from the study which you were in.'
'On the same side?' There had seemed to be a bewildering number of doors off the main hall.
'That's right, miss.'
When she had gone Linda found herself making a critical assessment of her appearance. David, her adoring husband, wouldn't recognise her, she thought, and a great flood of depression swept over her like a deluge. Suddenly she wanted to look nice. The knowledge staggered her and she asked herself the reason for this change. There was no valid explanation except the one of the change of scene-which was scarcely an explanation at all, she very soon was admitting.
Whatever, she looked at the two dresses she had brought with her and which were now hanging in the massive wardrobe, looking rather lost. She had brought a white silk blouse as well, and a midnight blue calf-length skirt in soft pan velvet. She'd had no intention of bringing these two articles but her aunt had insisted on putting them in the suitcase.
'I'll not need anything like that,' Linda had protested.
'You don't know, child. In any case, you can't take this thing empty!'
'It isn't going to be empty.' Linda had at that very moment been putting in her nightdress and some underwear. 'I shall take two dresses and that's all I shall need, besides the one I'll be wearing, that is.'
Her aunt had continued to argue until in the end Linda decided it was simpler to let her have her own way. It wasn't as if the blouse and skirt added much weight to the case.
Now, she took them out and laid them on the bed, her body tensed, immobile at the idea of breaking the habit of two years….
With a glance at her wristwatch she knew she had little time to make up her mind. And perhaps it was this which did in fact force her decision. She took off the jersey dress, had a quick shower, put on her underwear, and over it the blouse and skirt.
She stood before the mirror again. The blouse hung a little loosely now, because of the weight she had lost, and the waistband of the skirt was also loose. However, she managed to fix it with a safety-pin and there was no doubt that the outfit looked charming, and flattering even though her face was so sallow. Suddenly she wished she had some lip rouge and a blusher.
Leonor tapped on the door at that very moment and entered in response to Linda's 'come in.'
'I forgot to tell you that I'll bring your morning tea when you ring the bell. That's it, by the far side of the bed.'
Linda frowned.
'I don't want you to bring me tea in bed,' she said.
'It's the Conde's orders, miss.'
'I see….' She didn't see at all as a matter of fact. She was only a servant like Leonor, so why should she be waited on?
'Is there anything you want, miss?' Her eyes were running over Linda's figure and there was an unfathomable expression on her face. Linda squirmed inwardly at the idea of what the girl might be thinking: that she, Linda, was endeavouring to look attractive… for the Conde….
'No, nothing,' she replied.
'You look pretty, miss-if you don't mind my saying so?'
'Not at all. I felt I ought to change into something-er-cooler. It's very warm, don't you think?'
'Just right for me.' A small pause and then, 'You're pale, miss. Have you been ill?'
'Not ill, Leonor,' she replied.
'Are you going to make-up?'
A frown knit Linda's brow.
'No, of course not. In any case,' she added without thinking, 'I haven't any make-up with me.'
'You forgot it? What a shame. But I have some I could lend you-it hasn't been used. A friend bought it for me and it's not really my colour. The blusher's more for a fairer complexion.'
Well, thought Linda grimly, mine's not fair these days. It's just a nondescript sallow.
And then she heard herself say,
'I'd not borrow it, Leonor, but if it's unsuitable for you and it's for my colouring then I'll buy it from you and you can replace it with the right colour.' She glanced at her watch as she spoke and discovered that she had only five minutes to the half hour which Leonor had mentioned.
'I'll run and get it!'
The girl was back within sixty seconds. Breathlessly she said,
'I don't want to sell it, miss-'
'I can't take it, then.'
'Please do-oh, well, we'll talk about the price tomorrow. I hope you have a nice evening, miss. Good night,' she thought to add over her shoulder as she reached the door.
'Good night, Leonor.' Linda watched the door close, then looked down at the box in her hand. She opened the lid. A full range… lip rouge, blusher, eye shadow, mascara….
Slowly she closed the lid and, walking over to the dressing table, she laid the box down.
Then she brushed her hair, fastened it back with a small slide… and her eyes strayed to the box again….
