BLUE HILLS OF SINTRA

Anne Hampson

Eleanor was delighted when the Portuguese Conde Ramiro Vicente Miguel de Castro offered her a job — as companion to his young sister, in thesplendid Castro family home at Sintra. It was a chance that was not likely to come her way again, and she was looking forward to a pleasantsummer — nothing more.

But that was before she made the mistake of falling in love with her exalted employer. For, even if he should ever come to consider her worthy ofhis notice — which seemed highly unlikely — there was still that mystery about his late wife.

CHAPTER ONE

Eleanor Salway paused before entering the Principal’s room, automatically patting her fair hair, and flicking the ends from her shoulders.

A smile greeted her from the stately grey-haired woman seated at the desk.

‘Sit down, Miss Salway.’ The voice was low and cultured, with the merest trace of a Scots accent. Miss Crossland had been Principal of the BaileyCollege of Education for eleven years and her bearing and confidence had long been the envy of her students. Although there were over a hundredof these students in Eleanor’s year, Miss Crossland was giving each a personal interview before she left the college. ‘I expect you’re feeling a littlesad,’ she said, still smiling as Eleanor took possession of the chair at the opposite side of the large wide desk.

‘Yes, I do feel sad.’ Her hazel eyes were open and honest; from the first Eleanor had been on the very best of terms with the Principal. ‘I almostwish I were right back at the beginning. It’s been a wonderful three years, Miss Crossland, and I do thank you for everything.’

The older woman merely smiled at this, and presently began to talk about Eleanor’s conduct as a student, which had been exemplary. Sheunsparingly gave praise for the useful part Eleanor had played in the social side of college activities and ended by bringing the colour to herlistener’s cheeks as she said,

‘Any school at which you teach, Miss Salway, will be the richer for having you.’ She rose and Eleanor followed suit. A hand was extended andEleanor put hers into it.

‘Thank you again, Miss Crossland—’ She broke off, blinking rapidly and terrified of a tear escaping on to her lashes. ‘Th-thank you.’

At the door she turned. The Principal was still standing, a smile on her face, and looking rather more dignified than ever before in her voluminousblack gown.

‘What was it like?’ from the next student waiting outside the door, which Eleanor had closed behind her.

‘I was full up—right to choking point! ’

‘Softie! I believe you could go on being a student all your life.’

‘I’d love another year,’ admitted Eleanor, moving away so that Susan could take her place by the door.

‘Not me! Lord, how they’ve worked us! I wouldn’t go through all that again for a king’s ransom! I’m just dying to get out and earn some money.’

A few minutes later Eleanor was wandering aimlessly through the college, entering the library, and standing for a while reflecting on how fortunateshe had been, having it at her disposal for three marvellous years. She wandered into several of the lecture rooms, then the Common Room, wherestudents were sitting in groups, chatting. First and second years ... How she envied them!

The refectory was the place where most of the third-year students had gathered and Eleanor was hailed immediately she entered.

‘I’ll get my coffee first.’ She went to the hatch, received her coffee from the smiling woman who had served her that very first morning, when shehad felt so strange, and lost. Carrying the drink to a table where five of her friends sat, Eleanor took the chair one of them had drawn out for her.‘Isn’t it horrid?’

‘The atmosphere?’ Doreen Evans smiled and shrugged. ‘It’s been horrid for weeks—knowing we were at the end. Parting, and sweet sorrow, andall that.’

The others nodded. Eleanor glanced at them in turn—the important people who had helped to make life such a pleasure, the people she had metduring the first month and who would now become pen-friends ... for a while. It would be far easier not to write, eventually, when they were allbusy living their separate lives.

‘We must never lose touch—never!’ Jane Hulse was saying this even now, as Eleanor was looking at her. She meant it— they all did, but nothingwas so sure than that theywouldlose touch.

Mary Osburne agreed wholeheartedly. They had been such good pals; they could not possibly lose touch.

‘What are we doing here?’ The question came half an hour later from Jane. ‘We were free to go after our interviews with Miss Crossland. Whydon’t we make tracks?’

‘Because we’re hanging on to every precious moment,’ replied Eleanor, and the others nodded in instant agreement.

There was nothing left except the going-down service to be held the following day at the cathedral, and so it was not surprising that the girlswanted only to remain in college until the last minute. However, they eventually rose and made for the cloakrooms, where they all went theirseparate ways, going to their lockers for the very last time. Handing over the keys yesterday had in fact been the final relinquishing of the lockers,but possessively they had used them again today.

Eleanor was on her way out, accompanied by Doreen and Jane, who caught their buses at the same stop as Eleanor, when one of the tutors said,

‘Goodbye, girls, and the best of luck.’ A glance at Eleanor and then, in a curious tone, ‘You saw the notice-board?’

She shook her head. No one expected notices today, when all that the third years had come in for was the interviews with the Principal. And by nomeans all of them had come in, as the interviews had been going on for more than a week, and Eleanor’s batch was just about the last.

‘There was a notice for me?’

‘From Mr. Kershawe,’ the tutor said in an expressionless voice. ‘He wants to see you.’

‘Thank you, Miss Yates.’ Eleanor was frowning heavily. Mr. Kershawe, the tutor who had taken her for the curriculum subject of maths, had beenthe only person in the whole of the college whom she could say she thoroughly disliked. His tutorship had ended after the first year, and Eleanorhad breathed a sigh of relief on leaving his lecture room for the last time. But he had continued to pester her, and although other students hadexpressed pity for him, telling Eleanor she was heartless in the way she treated him, she herself considered him in the light of a nuisance, who atevery opportunity—and these came during social activities—would seek her out, would sit near her, and would talk, telling her how beautiful shewas and that she was the only girl he could ever love. Had they been in any other circumstances she could have told him off, cooling his ardour forever; as it was she had to afford him respect, he being a tutor and she a student. ‘If only I’d got out before she came along,’ she said angrily as soonas Miss Yates had left the hall. ‘I’ve a good mind not to go.’

The others laughed.

‘I expect he wants to propose,’ suggested Jane, and received a scowl for her trouble.

‘You’ll have to go,’ said Doreen. ‘Miss Yates will be bound to mention that she gave you the message.’ Shrugging impatiently Eleanor saidgoodbye to her friends and made for the lift. In a short space of time she was in Terry Kershawe’s room and he was looking her over admiringly,deliberately keeping her waiting as he did so.

‘If you will tell me what you want,’ she said curtly, ‘I will then be able to go home. I have things to do this afternoon.’ His eyes glinted. He had ashallowness about him which had impressed Eleanor from the moment he had begun to practise his unprofessional conduct in seeking her out fromamong the other students. His mouth was cruel and thin, his eyes far too close together.

‘You can speak to me like that now that you’re leaving.’ His voice was so pleasant that she instantly became suspicious. Nevertheless, she wastotally unprepared for what he was to say next. ‘It may interest you to know that I’m to be your headmaster—’

‘My headmaster!’ She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

‘You’re leaving the college?’

A small silence followed. He appeared to be relishing the situation.

‘You’re going to Ashford Park School. You know that the headmaster is retiring next month—in July. You’ve surely been told this?’

‘Of course. I learned of it at my interview with the local education authority. ’

‘Well, Eleanor, I applied for the post and got it. So you see, we’re not to say goodbye. In September, when you take up your first teaching post, Ishall be there too.’

Eleanor could not forget this conversation she had had with the objectionable Mr. Kershawe; she thought about it all through the cathedral servicethe next day. To have him for her first headmaster! It meant that her probationary year was to be utterly spoiled. After that, she could leave theschool and find a post elsewhere. In the meantime, though, life was to be more than a little unpleasant.

‘You might as well say you’ll marry me,’ he had said as she was about to leave him yesterday. ‘You can’t escape your destiny, and I knew themoment I saw you, sitting there in your desk, looking so young and innocent—you were eighteen but looked much younger—I knew, my dear, thatwe should come together. ’

The city air had seemed inordinately sweet and pure as she stepped out of the front entrance of the college. Terry Kershawe had cured hernostalgia, and she hated him for it.

She was still thinking about him when, having procured a temporary post at the famous Sherbourne Hotel in London, Eleanor went along thefollowing Monday morning and presented herself to the undermanager.

‘You’re a long way from home,’ was his first comment as he looked her over and took note of the neat black dress peeping from beneath a whitemackintosh. An immaculate white collar fitted closely to her neck; her hair was tied back with a black velvet ribbon.

‘I’m from Manchester,’ she told him.

‘How did you come to get the job of room-maid here?’

‘I heard that you take students in vacation time, so I applied.’ She looked at him. ‘Another man interviewed me; you were on holiday. ’

‘That’s right. You take up your teaching post in September, I understand?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘So you’re to be with us for about seven weeks?’

‘Six. I’m having a week with my friend here. She’s a nurse and this is a good opportunity for us to have a holiday together.’

‘A nurse? Where does she work? I have a sister at the Middlesex Hospital.’

‘June’s at a nursing home—a private one.’ She mentioned the name and his eyes widened.

‘The most expensive—and exclusive—in London.’

‘So I believe. She loves being there. We went to school together,’ she added, feeling pleasantly at home with this young man and wondering if hewere as friendly as this with all his subordinates.

‘Well, Miss Salway, now that we’ve got to know one another I’ll hand you over to the supervisor. She’ll tell you what rooms you’re to look after.We have other students here, so I’m sure you’ll be happy.’ He rang the bell and while they waited for the appearance of the supervisor Eleanorventured to ask if they had any celebrities staying in the hotel at present. They always had celebrities, he told her, and casually mentioned a coupleof film stars who were in two of the special suites, but went on to say that the blue and gold suite, without doubt the most lavish in the whole ofLondon, was occupied by the Conde Ramiro Vicente Miguel de Castro, a Portuguese nobleman from the southern half of the country.

‘Is he on holiday?’ she asked, wondering if she would see this man with so illustrious a name, and wondering too if one had to use the whole stringof names when addressing him.

‘We have no idea. He is quite alone and speaks only when it is absolutely necessary.’

Eleanor saw the Conde the very next day. Having been instructed to see to the suite next to his, she happened to be going in as he came from thelift. Their eyes met for one fleeting second before, turning away, he strode along the thickly-carpeted corridor towards the arched alcove whichformed the entrance to his suite. Fascinated by his appearance, Eleanor stared after his tall figure until it disappeared from view. What an arrestingface! Full of character, arrogance and superiority. In that fleeting glimpse of him she had instantly been struck by those superlative features, hadsubconsciously used the word perfection to describe them. The smooth suntanned skin and high cheekbones that seemed more pronounced owingto the leanness of the cheeks beneath them; the formidable line of the jaw, firm and also prominent. The mouth was tight, the eyes hard, like deepgrey metal. His bearing was regal and confident ... and yet Eleanor had the peculiar sensation of having seen a man whose confidence and pridehad received a shattering blow. Was it the way he looked?—with some strange shade of anxiety in his eyes? He had seen Eleanor, certainly, butshe had the impression that his mind had not registered anything at all about her. He would not know if she were to see her again, she toldherself—but she was to discover that this conclusion was entirely wrong.

‘Miss Webber,’ she was saying at seven o’clock that evening, ‘is it all right if I go out when I’m off duty?’

The supervisor looked faintly surprised.

‘Of course. Didn’t anyone tell you?’

‘No.’ Eleanor paused a moment. ‘Do I have to be in at any certain time?’

‘You’re going to a late show or something?’

Eleanor shook her head, going on to say that her friend worked in a nursing home a few miles away and, having phoned her at tea time, Eleanorhad learned that she could

visit her while she was on duty.

‘I’d like to stay a couple of hours or so,’ she added. ‘We haven’t seen each other since last summer.’

‘That’s quite all right, Miss Salway. You can come in just whenever you like.’

The nursing home was set in extensive grounds, having at one time been the ancestral house of a distinguished titled family. June had told Eleanorthat the fees were quite fantastically high, and only the wealthy could afford to go there for treatment.

‘It’s lovely to see you again!’ June said enthusiastically when Eleanor arrived. ‘Come into the rest-room. There are more of us here than necessary,so if any of us have a visitor the others manage without us. There isn’t much to do on night duty anyway, not once the patients are settled with theirmalt drinks and the television. I think half of them come in here for a rest cure. We’ve at least a dozen with nothing more serious than lazyitis!’Laughing, she led the way to the tastefully furnished and carpeted rest-room where the nurses relaxed, or took turns in having a nap during thenight and early hours of the morning. Accepting the chair offered, Eleanor glanced around, taking in the large settee and matching chairs, theoccasional tables, the radio and the flowers.

‘This is very pleasant,’ she observed, smiling at her friend. ‘No wonder you like working here.’

‘Everything about the place is luxurious—and I do love luxury, even if it is secondhand, as it were.’ She was laughing with her big blue eyes as shelooked down at Eleanor. ‘But what about you?—working at the Sherbourne! How lucky you are! Nowthatis luxury indeed! You must tell me aboutthe guests—but I’ll get us some coffee first. Or do you prefer tea?’

‘Coffee will do nicely, thanks, June.’

‘Okay; I’ll not be more than a jiff! ’ June stopped at the door and turned. ‘I forgot to congratulate you on passing everything and getting yourcertificate. Is it very impressive—written in gold, with curls and whatnots all along the edge?’

Eleanor laughed and said she had not yet received the actual certificate, but she did have a post to go to in September.

‘I told you that, though, in my letter.’

June nodded and went out, returning a short while later with a tray.

‘Tell me about all the celebs who are staying at the hotel? I read about the film stars, of course, and I know you’ve a Portuguese count—’

‘You do? How?’

A small hesitation as if June were undecided.

‘It’s all very hush-hush, but I expect I can tell you. We have his sister here—having a baby.’ June ended on a dramatic note which registered butwhich conveyed nothing.

‘Imagine that! I did wonder what he was doing in London, because I’ve heard he never goes out except for a couple of hours in the morning andagain in the evening. He visits her at those times?’

June nodded, saying he was expected any moment now.

‘Dona Carlota is only just sixteen,’ she added slowly, ‘and not married. ’

‘Not married?’ Eleanor instantly recalled her impression of having seen a man whose pride had received a shattering blow. ‘How awful—for afamily like that.’

Again June nodded. She was pouring the coffee, her face towards the low wide window, from which light streamed forth on to the macadamedspace which fronted it. A car drew up softly; Eleanor caught a glimpse of silver over the radiator and realized it was a crest. The man alighted closeto the window and briefly peered in as he closed the car door. Eleanor saw with some considerable surprise that he recognized her, for he gave aslight start before turning away towards the entrance a few yards to his right.

‘He’s so magnificent ... ’ Eleanor spoke almost inaudibly, her eyes pensively fixed on his departing back.

‘We’ve dubbed him the King of Portugal,’ returned June with a grimace as she handed Eleanor her coffee. ‘The disgrace which his sister hasbrought to him hasn’t taken any of the pomp out of him.’

‘I thought he looked troubled, when I saw him for a moment today. What’s the girl like?’

‘Ravishingly beautiful,’ came the prompt reply. ‘I wonder what her brother said when he knew. I’ll bet she squirmed for weeks! He’s brought herhere so that it can all be kept secret, of course.’

‘Can it be kept secret?’ Eleanor shook her head. ‘If she’s only just come here—’

‘She told me she’s been staying with an aunt who lives on another of her brother’s estates, out in the corktree country. She’s been there for sixmonths—until coming here last week. ’ A shrug as June sat down on the other side of the low occasional table, her cup and saucer in her hand. ‘It’sthe same with rich and poor alike—with barons and peasants. All can come a cropper when they meet up with temptation. ’ ‘You’d have thoughther parents would have made sure she was always chaperoned. ’

‘She has no parents. The Count is her guardian. We don’t know a thing more than that,’ June added, anticipating a question from her friend. ‘Thegirl’s obviously received strict orders not to talk, so she just sits there with her thoughts for company.’

Eleanor frowned.

‘It’s all so very sad. When is the baby expected?’

‘Within the next few hours.’

Eleanor fell silent, still frowning, and chiding herself inwardly for allowing her mind to be troubled by the plight of some unknown girl who wasnot even of her own nationality. It was ridiculous, and yet she remained troubled and when after the departure of the Conde June asked if shewould like

to see the girl Eleanor eagerly replied in the affirmative.

‘I usually take in her last drink—it’s a tonic we give her because apparently she hasn’t been eating very well lately and is run-down as a result—soyou can come with me. Help me straighten the bedclothes; she’ll not know but that you’re one of the staff who’s been on holiday.’

‘But I’m not in uniform.’

‘She won’t even notice.’

‘Your boss—he’s not about?’

‘Dr. Harrington? No, he’s upstairs in his flat. Never comes down during the evening unless he’s sent for.’ The ward was the last word in luxury,but there was a clinical smell for all that. The girl, pale and drawn, was sitting up in bed, a book lying open on the white coverlet, one slender handresting on it. The big brown eyes had been staring; they moved as the girls entered, registering neither interest nor surprise that there was someoneaccompanying the nurse who always attended to her the last thing before she settled down for the night.

Standing by the door for a long moment, Eleanor bit her lip, sadness sweeping over her momentarily at the spectacle of this lovely black-haired girllooking so utterly lost and helpless.

‘Come, Dona Carlota,’ said June kindly, ‘here’s your drink. ’

‘Thank you.’ An accent, but slight; a voice soft and husky in a most attractive kind of way. Obediently she drained the glass, and handed it back. Itwas only when they began straightening the covers and tucking them in that the girl’s eyes settled on Eleanor. The black hair sprawled and shoneagainst the snowy pillow, the small oval face was turned towards Eleanor. ‘You’re new?’ she said, and automatically Eleanor shook her head in anegative gesture. Glancing up, June smiled, but twisted round on hearing the door open. Something was whispered into her ear by the young nursewho entered and with a swift ‘excuse me a moment’ June hurried off to another patient. ‘What’s your name?’ the

Portuguese girl asked. She appeared to be fighting against the reserve she had been ordered by her brother to maintain. Eleanor, who had alwayspossessed a sort of uncanny understanding of the feelings of her fellows, looked sympathetically at her as she gave the girl her name. ‘We havethat name in my country,’ Dona Carlota informed her. ‘But we spell it in a slightly different way.’

An awkward pause could have followed, but Eleanor forestalled it by chatting to the girl as she busied herself with the bedclothes, smoothing themand pulling them tight before tucking them securely in. She seemed to have drawn the girl out, for Carlota asked, ‘Are you married?’

Eleanor said no, she wasn’t married.

‘I’ve just got my teacher’s certificate,’ she went on to explain. ‘I start teaching in September.’

‘Oh ... so you don’t work here?’

‘No; I’m a friend of Nurse Leyland. I just came for an hour’s chat with her. ’

A small pause; the girl looked hard at Eleanor before she said, right out of the blue,

‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever had a baby?’

‘I haven’t,’ returned Eleanor gently.

Another pause.

‘Do you know I’m not married?’

Eleanor kept her head averted as she tucked the top cover in. The question was repeated and at last she straightened up. ‘Yes, Dona Carlota, I doknow that.’

The girl turned away, putting a swift hand to her eyes. Eleanor saw the tears escape through the slender, beautifully-shaped fingers.

‘I shouldn’t be talking to you—or anyone,’ quivered the girl, brushing away the tears with one hand while the other sought beneath the pillow for ahandkerchief. ‘My brother will be angry if he finds out.’

‘He won’t find out, dear, so there’s no need for you to worry yourself on that score.’ ‘I’m so frightened, you see—’ The girl broke off and toEleanor’s dismay burst into almost hysterical weeping. ‘If you had had a baby you could have told me about it. I dared not ask my aunt becauseshe was so disgusted.’ The tears flowed down Carlota’s face. Taking the handkerchief from her clenched fist, Eleanor gently held it to her cheeks.

‘Don’t cry—please don’t. You’re in very good hands here, and there won’t be any complications, I’m sure.’ Eleanor was frowning heavily as shesaw in imagination this girl, hustled off to her austere aunt in the country—hidden away from all eyes, with her brother most probably making theexcuse to his friends that Carlota was taking a rest in the quietude of his other, more secluded estate. Perhaps he had even gone so far as to say thatthe doctor had advised this rest and change. Although she had seen him only twice, and had mere glimpses of him on both occasions, Eleanor

could without the least difficulty see him glibly finding some feasible excuse for his sister’s absence from home. She saw too the aunt, condemningher errant niece, treating her with such severity that the child had not the courage to ask her advice, or her help in understanding what she was to gothrough. Sudden, unreasoning anger rose against the brother for not exhibiting more sympathy, for not acting in a more human manner, for thiswas the girl’s one sad mistake, her one lapse that had landed her in such dire trouble. That she was not bad was evident in those innocent eyes, thatclear open face and sweet childish mouth. Without thinking about the order Carlota had received from her brother she said impulsively, ‘Wouldyou like to talk, Carlota dear? I’m a stranger to you and you’ll never see me again, so you have nothing to fear. Talk if you like—’ She broke offand smiled reassuringly as the girl began to dry her eyes. ‘ Talk if you like,’ she repeated, ‘and you have my promise that I’ll never breathe a wordeven to my friend Nurse Leyland.’ To her gratification the girl presently responded to her smile, and after a final dab at her eyes she put the damphandkerchief

under her pillow.

‘We are a very distinguished family,’ she began, and went on to give her brother’s whole title. ‘People don’t call him that,’ she continued. ‘He’sknown at home as Dom Miguel.’ She paused a moment because Eleanor had opened her mouth to inform her that she knew who her brother was,but then she decided against it, certain that the girl would instantly go dumb—and Eleanor wanted her to talk, just now, when she was so near hertime, and so afraid. It would do her good and Eleanor hoped June would be detained a little while longer. ‘We live at the Palacio de Castro atSintra,’ went on Carlota in a low and pleasant tone. ‘It is only one of my brother’s homes, but it is the one he likes the best. It is very beautiful, andit is high—on top of a great hill and surrounded by a huge park.’ She paused a moment and went a trifle red. ‘It is not seemly for me to tell you ofthis grandness. You call it in your country—boasting. ’

Eleanor smiled and reassured Carlota that it was not boasting at all. She was interested and begged the girl to continue, which she did, and Eleanorlearned of the magnificence of this palace, which stood in formal gardens, with statuary and lakes and fountains, with lemon and orange trees andimmaculately-clipped box and yew hedges. Peacocks and other brightly-coloured birds strutted about the gardens, beyond which was the greatpark Carlota had previously mentioned. Here paths wound about all over the place, and water flowed beneath little bridges. Shrubs and ferns andcypress trees abounded and all in all it sounded a most delightful place through which to wander, or to sit, with a book, in one of the little arboursor summerhouses Carlota spoke of as her narrative progressed. ‘This great palace came to my brother on the death of our parents when I was quitesmall. They were killed in their car when they were touring in France. My brother was then my guardian, for I had no other relatives who wereclose. I—I met—met someone and fell in love... ’ The voice faltered, as Eleanor expected it to, when the girl reached this part of the story. ‘Ithought we would marry, but Lourenco—he was a bad man and went away...’

Eleanor had been standing by the bed, looking down at the girl, but now she moved away, thinking she heard voices. She did not want the girl to bespeaking when June re-entered the room. No one must suspect that Carlota had made these confidences. The voices died away, however, andEleanor returned to the bed.

‘How was it, Carlota, that you were allowed to go out with this Lourenco? I always imagined that Portuguese girls— especially in yourposition—were chaperoned?’

‘We are, and my brother was most strict about this, but he has other estates—quintas,we call them in Portugal—and he must visit them sometimes.It was on one of these absences that I went out with Lourenco. You see, I was lonely—’ She broke off, gasping as, the door having swung open,her brother stood there, his dark eyes glinting wrathfully as they moved from Carlota to Eleanor, and back again.

‘What are you doing in this room?’ he demanded imperiously, striding towards Eleanor and towering above her. ‘Who are you?’

Completely taken aback at this unexpected appearance of the man who was supposed to have left over half an hour ago, Eleanor could only standand stare, wondering how much he had heard, as the door, she now realized, must have been ajar, otherwise she and Carlota would have heard itbeing opened.

‘I’m a friend of Nurse Leyland,’ she managed at last, her heartbeats increasing their speed as she dwelt on the possibility of his reporting June forallowing her into Dona Carlota’s private room.

‘I’ve seen you at the Sherbourne—where I am staying.’

‘I work there—’

‘You work there!’ from Carlota in tones almost akin to horror. ‘How could you deceive me?’ Tears actually started to her eyes. ‘I believed youwhen you said you were a schoolteacher. You work...’ She tailed off, and a little sob choked her as she stared up at Eleanor. ‘You work at an

hotel.’

‘I’m there only for the next few weeks,’ Eleanor explained, avoiding that piercing and disconcerting gaze which she knew had settled upon her. ‘Ididn’t mean to deceive you, dear.’ The last word slipped out with such naturalness that Eleanor failed even to notice that she had used it. But theConde’s eyes glimmered strangely and this Eleanor noticed on looking up. Nevertheless, he was still furious and as she continued to meet hisgaze—with difficulty since there was something most disconcerting about his whole demeanour—she knew instinctively that he had overheard atleast some of what had been said. Eleanor made a shrewd guess that her own question about Lourenco, and Carlota’s reply, had not escaped hisears. She felt a deep anxiety for the girl. Would her brother let her see his anger? Surely not; the time was wrong. In her anxiety though, Eleanorspoke impulsively, forgetting everything except the need to protect the girl from any further worry. ‘Sir, your sister was lonely, and as I was here,and a total stranger to her, it didn’t matter if she did talk to me a little.’ Her eyes were wide and frank; she saw that her appealing manner hadcaught his attention. ‘I can be trusted, sir. What your sister has told me will go no further. I give you my word for that. ’

A small silence followed; glancing at Carlota Eleanor saw that she was regarding her brother with an expression of awe, and the hand on the coverseemed to tremble slightly. Plainly the girl feared her brother’s wrath, and Eleanor’s own feeling of anger against Dom Miguel returned. He spokeat last, with cold formality rather than the edge of fury which she had expected to hear in his voice.

‘Senhorita,you seem prompted, for no particular reason that I can see, to shield my sister from the rebuke she merits. By confiding in you she hasnot only lowered her own dignity and offended mine, but she has also disobeyed my express order that she enter into no conversation with anyonehere, nor that she answer any questions about herself or me.’ He stopped a moment, but his dark and narrowed gaze remained upon Eleanor. Whata supercilious, self-opinionated snob, she thought, glancing over his tall erect figure. Immaculately dressed, he did appear regal, she was forced toown, at the same time admitting that this regality, being inherent, would perhaps give him some excuse for his air of authority and this in turncould give rise to the rather patronizing manner he adopted towards her. ‘I asked you what you were doing in this room?’

Eleanor’s heart fluttered in spite of her rejection of the idea that Dom Miguel would report June, even though his manner suggested the contrary.

‘I came to the hospital to see my friend—I am free in the evenings,’ she added by way of an explanation. ‘Nurse Leyland was coming to makeDona Carlota comfortable for the night, so I came along too.’

‘For any special reason,senhorita?^

She stared uncomprehendingly.

‘Of course not. I don’t know what you mean?’

The straight black eyebrows rose faintly. The man’s hard gaze was transferred to the girl lying on the bed. It stayed there for a while and then,quite suddenly, Dom Miguel requested Eleanor to leave the room.

‘But wait outside,’ he ordered quietly.

‘Sir ... Conde ... I mean—’ She broke off, flushing hotly under his arrogant stare. What should she call him? If she addressed him as Dom Miguelhe would be informed at once that his sister had talked about him.

‘Wait for me outside,’ he commanded again, and turned his back on her.

CHAPTER TWO

June was a trifle pale when, on her return, she saw Eleanor standing there, a short distance from the door of Carlota’s room.

‘Her brother returned,’ she whispered. ‘Was he furious at finding you in her room?’

‘Definitely. He told me to wait outside for him.’

‘Lord! Now I’m in trouble!’

‘He won’t report you,’ Eleanor assured her softly.

‘You’re sure?’

‘Fairly sure. He’s got everything that makes an autocrat, but there’s nothing petty about him.’

June gave her friend an odd sort of glance.

‘You seem to have lost no time in assessing his character,’ she said, for the moment diverted. ‘What are you—a physiognomist?’

Eleanor laughed quietly despite her inner concern for the girl in there. What was her brother saying? she wondered.

‘One would have to be much more than a physiognomist in order to assess his character properly. One would have to live with him. And who inher right mind would want to do that?’ she just had to say, noting the grimace which had crossed June’s face as Eleanor was speaking.

‘We’ve been dying to discover whether or not he’s married, but with all the secrecy, and our instructions not on any account to ask the girl anyquestions, we’re left completely in the dark. We shall never know.’

‘He probably is married,’ returned Eleanor musingly, her eyes straying automatically to the door through which he would presently emerge. ‘He’llbe more than thirty, don’t you think?’

June nodded, saying that at a guess she would put his age at thirty-four or five. Reverting then to the unexpected return of the Conde, she wanted toknow exactly what happened.

Guardedly Eleanor provided sufficient information to satisfy her friend, and even if June had any desire to question her further she was preventedfrom doing so by the appearance of the man himself.

He approached them from just along the passage, his stern eyes fixed on June.

‘Nurse Leyland,’ he said curtly, ‘is it usual in this hospital for strangers to be allowed into the private wards of patients?’

June went red, and smoothed the front of her starched white apron.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I didn’t think there would be any harm in my taking Miss Salway along to—to assist with the bed. ’

His arrogant eyes swept over her before coming to rest on her face. Even before he spoke Eleanor guessed he had said his last on this matter; itwould be quite beneath his dignity to stand here and argue with a mere nurse. What he did say staggered both girls.

‘Senhorita,are you going back to the Sherbourne now? If so, may I offer you a lift?’

Silence—the silence of amazement. June and Eleanor exchanged glances, surreptitiously.

‘That is most kind of you,’ murmured Eleanor, still dazed by the man’s offer. That he had something to say to her was evident, but she failed to seewhy he should need to give her a lift in order to do so.

‘I am going at once.’ The quiet foreign voice was without doubt speaking an order. The haughty and superior Dom Miguel was in effect telling hershe must leave athisconvenience, not her own. Her chin lifted, but a second’s reflection warned her that she might be in trouble at the hotel if shewere to get on the wrong side of this arrogant foreigner and so, saying good night to her friend, Eleanor followed Dom Miguel as he strode in hislordly way along the corridor towards the large imposing forecourt where he had left his

car.

The drive was a strain, to say the least. Contrary to her expectations, Dom Miguel made no immediate reference to her unauthorized presence inhis sister’s room; he merely drove, in an abstracted sort of way as if pondering a most serious question, keeping his eyes on the road, his verypresence radiating an aura of magnificence which filled the car. Casting him a sideways glance from under her lashes, Eleanor could not help butadmire the noble, clear-cut outline of his profile. But it was an austere silhouette for all that and, recalling her earlier conclusion that he wasmarried, she found herself endeavouring to imagine him as a husband. Cold ... remote ... and yet she could see him demanding, mastering, andwithout the smallest degree of effort, so strong was his personality. What sort of lover would he be? Was that formidable exterior deceiving? Wasthe frigidity and withdrawal merely a surface trait? Without warning the most strange and profound emotion gripped her and with a sort of stunneddisbelief she was forced to admit that the man’s attractiveness was making an impact which actually left her a tiny bit breathless.

With switching thoughts and memory she saw Terry Kershawe—the close-set eyes, the looseness of the chin, the thick mouth that seemed to spelllust. Why should she suddenly think of him? she wondered, frowning. Of course, she was making a comparison, but why on earth should TerryKershawe’s face come before her at this time?

Her thoughts remained on him despite her attempts to dismiss him. She fell to visualizing the next twelve months, with him as her headmaster. Herprobationary year would be difficult enough—as it was with every new teacher—but Terry Kershawe would have it in his power to make it farmore difficult than Eleanor had anticipated. He would be her boss; his orders would have to be obeyed. He could find fault with her work if he sochose; he could talk disparagingly about this work to the inspectors who would be coming in to see her performances in the classroom. Of all thebad luck! Quite suddenly Eleanor wished she did not have to put in that year—that she could change her mind and find some other post, just so thatshe could get away from the man whom she knew for sure meant to pester her, as he had pestered her at college.

Her reverie was broken as the car came to a standstill and she realized they were on the hotel’s private park. Switching off the lights, Dom Miguelhesitated a moment and then, half-turning to her,

‘Just how much did my sister confide in you,senhorita?’ She gave a start.

‘Didn’t you ask her?’ she said, the question coming out before she had time to think.

‘Naturally I refrained from asking her. Her ... child is expected within a few hours.’

So he hadn’t admonished the girl, concluded Eleanor with relief. She noticed the slight hesitation before he mentioned the child and knew that itmust embarrass him to do so—to a complete stranger. The situation was most odd, and puzzling. Dom Miguel repeated his question and after areluctant moment of thought Eleanor told him all that had been said in Carlota’s room.

‘It was not idle curiosity on my part that made me talk, and ask a few questions,’ Eleanor said on recalling his asking if she had gone into the roomfor any special reason. ‘Naturally I was interested in the fact of your having a sister in the nursing home where my friend works, because it was acoincidence, my having seen you here, at the hotel. But I’m not a person, sir, who concerns herself in idle gossip, or wastes time probing into otherpeople’s affairs.’ In the dark she looked at him; she failed to read his expression but at the same time sensed an interest which only added to herpuzzlement. ‘I felt that the little chat we had helped your sister,’ she was impelled to add. ‘Dona Carlota is a mere child, and she is veryfrightened—and lonely, here among strangers. I’m sorry if you’re angry, but not sorry that I let her talk. She needed to talk to someone—’ Shebroke off, immediately asking how she must address him. ‘Your sister said that at home you are addressed as Dom Miguel.’

‘That is correct.’

‘Will it be in order for me to do so?’ she inquired respectfully, and he nodded.

‘Perfectly in order.’ A rather tense silence followed as for a moment he appeared to be undecided. She saw that he frowned, but his face cleared ashe began to say, with sudden firm decision, ‘I must admit that my sister did seem more calm after speaking to you. The reason I turned back wasthat previously she had seemed nervous and overwrought, and this condition troubled me. I knew she needed a woman, but in view of what youknow you will appreciate that I could not have her talking to the nurses here, who would gossip among themselves. News spreads fast—even greatdistances.’ He paused, and Eleanor noted the pulsation of a nerve in his neck. Her sympathies went out to him, aware of what it must be costinghim, a noble Portuguese count, having to unbend in this way.

‘Carlota needs a woman,’ he repeated, and now he appeared to be in a mood of bitter abstraction, as if the intrusion of an unpleasant memory wascausing him to relive, fleetingly, some most unhappy episode in his life. ‘She seems to have taken an inordinate liking to you in a very short spaceof time—’ He looked at Eleanor in a most examining sort of way. ‘You’re sympathetic, and, I believe, understanding. I also believe in yourtact,senhorita... and for these reasons I have a proposition to put to you. ’

She jerked her head, nerves tingling. Before her eyes flashed the vision of herself and Carlota, buried away in some remote place, caring for thebaby...

‘Dom Miguel,’ she began in haste, for she wished only to save him the embarrassment of her instant refusal of his offer, ‘I have recently finishedmy training and shall be taking up my first teaching post in September...’ Eleanor allowed her voice to trail away into silence as she sensed, ratherthan saw, her companion stiffen.

‘I haven’t yet put my proposition to you,senhorita.’ Censure, coupled with hauteur in that attractively-accented voice. Put out, Eleanor foundherself saying,

‘I’m sorry, Dom Miguel. I thought—thought you were about to ask me to care for the baby. ’

A rather awful silence ensued; she wondered if the mention of the child had caused it. Again her sympathies were with the Conde. The disgrace of

his sister having an illegitimate child must be pressing heavily upon him, even though he had managed to keep it secret from his friends andacquaintances at home.

‘My proposition does not concern the child, which will be adopted. I was about to ask if you would consider taking up the post of companion toDona Carlota.’ He paused and Eleanor noted the sudden tightening of his mouth. ‘This must never happen again, and won’t if my sister has acompanion to go about with, a young person whom she likes. It would be your duty to protect her, for I have business commitments and cannotpossibly be with her the whole time. If you were with her I should be freed from anxiety.’

So he had no wife, obviously, concluded Eleanor, who became thoughtfully silent. Although gratified by his offer, which, with the added lastsentence, implied complete trust, she at last shook her head. Her companion said nothing and in this rather awkward moment Eleanor staredvacantly at a great car which had been brought on to the park by a uniformed chauffeur. The owner had obviously been dropped at the frontentrance of the hotel; the chauffeur got out and, locking the door, walked briskly away. Eleanor glanced around at the other cars. Such wealth, shemused, her eyes wandering automatically to the crest over the radiator of the car in which she was sitting, here in the dark, next to the illustriousConde Ramiro Vicente Miguel de Castro, who lived in the Palacio de Castro, situated amid the blue hills of Sintra. It was an unreal situation, insome ways, yet vitally real in others. The lovely girl who might even at this moment be giving birth to her child was very real, and so was herbrother, whose slight impatient movement served to snap Eleanor into full consciousness of her position. He awaited her decision; loath todisappoint him, she nevertheless told him gently that although she appreciated the honour of his trust in her, she would have to turn down his offer.He seemed all at once to sag—or perhaps he merely relaxed, she thought, quite unable to imagine the Conde sagging! There was nothing to belearned from his cool dispassionate tones as he said,

‘Very well,senhorita,the decision you have made disappoints me, but I have no option than to accept it. If you should change your mind please donot hesitate to inform me.’ Leaning across her, he opened the door. She got out of the car, said good night, and walked away, leaving him sittingthere, the only occupant of the car park.

Despite her refusal of the Conde’s offer, Eleanor could not put it from her, no matter how she tried. Nor could she free her mind of the picture ofthe girl and, the following afternoon, she found herself becoming impatient for the time when she could telephone June, who, she knew, slept untilabout four o’clock when she was on night duty. At half-past four Eleanor rang her to inquire about Carlota.

‘The baby, a lovely boy, was born dead.’ So casual! But nurses were like that; they were used to such things.

‘Carlota—how is she?’ Eleanor brushed a tear from her lashes, feeling foolish at crying for some girl she had met

only fleetingly and whom she would never meet again.

‘Poorly, but she’ll be all right.’ The baby had been born at two in the morning, June went on to tell Eleanor. ‘Her brother’s with her, I expect. Hewas informed this morning that the child had arrived, and he said he would go to her and stay all day. ’

‘You allow that?’

‘With his sort—yes! Can you imagine anyone daring to tell him what he must and must not do?’

‘No—you’re right,’ musingly from Eleanor. She was wondering how the man would treat a wife, and children. ‘I’d like to see Dona Carlota again,but I don’t suppose that’s possible?’

‘Didn’t her brother tell you off?’ inquired June curiously.

‘No; on the contrary he seemed glad she had chatted with someone.’

‘Well ... if you really want to see her you could ask him if you may.’

Eleanor said yes, she might do that. But of course she knew she wouldn’t. As she had refused his offer, she did not expect him to welcome asuggestion that she should visit his sister. However, on sudden impulse she sent a spray of flowers, and the following day she was told by theastounded supervisor that she was to go to Dom Miguel’s suite as he wished to speak to her.

‘Thank you,’ murmured Eleanor, hurrying away from the inquisitive gaze of Miss Webber.

Rather timidly she knocked on the door and received an immediate invitation to enter.

‘I merely wished to thank you for the very thoughtful gesture,’ he said without inviting her to sit down. ‘It was most kind of you to send Carlotaflowers.’ Vaguely it registered with Eleanor that he had dropped Carlota’s title; it seemed more than significant ... and she could not thrust awaythe idea that he still hoped for a reconsidering of her decision. ‘Would you extend your kindness a little further, and visit my sister?’ He did notmention the baby, and Eleanor concluded that he would have guessed that she had learned of the stillbirth from June.

‘I’ll be delighted to visit her,’ came the spontaneous answer, and for the first time she saw the hint of a smile soften the severity of that arrogantmouth. A faint inclination of his head accompanied his thanks. He would be going to the nursing home this evening, and would take Eleanor also.‘Thank you ...’ She moved, edging towards the door, which was instantly opened for her. Outside, in the wide thickly-carpeted corridor, she pauseda moment, her expression thoughtful. Was she becoming involved? A frown knit her brow. Perhaps it was unkind to visit the girl; Eleanorsuspected that Carlota could quite easily become attached to anyone who showed kindness to her at this particular time. With a sigh Eleanor wenton her way, back to her work. She felt restless and uneasy for the rest of the day, but by the evening she was looking forward to seeing Carlota. Asshe got into the car she smiled to herself. June on the phone had been staggered that the ‘King of Portugal’ had asked her to visit his sister, andeven more staggered when she learned that he himself was actually bringing her in his car.

‘It was the obvious thing to do,’ returned Eleanor with her customary practical way of thinking. ‘He would hardly expect me to get a bus, not whenhe himself was going to the nursing home.’

‘Yes, you’re right. And it wasn’t as if you hadn’t already been in his car. But imagine his being human, after all! ’ Carlota’s pale face brightenedon seeing Eleanor. She smiled before transferring her eyes to the tall man standing at the door.

‘Miguel, you are very kind to bring Miss Salway.’

‘I thought you would like to see her again. How are you feeling, dear?’ He had come forward and now his hand was on the girl’s wrist and he waslooking down into her face. Standing some way from the bed, Eleanor gasped at the change in Dom Miguel’s expression. And his attitude—it wasgentle almost to the point of tenderness. Stern he might be, and bitterly disappointed in his sister, but there was a compassion in him which was arevelation to Eleanor. Turning his head, he indicated a chair which the nurse had put beside the bed. Dropping the more formal‘senhorita'", he said,

‘Sit down,senhora—’

‘But you—’ she began, looking round for another chair. The nurse was already bringing it, and after putting it by the bed she went out, softlyclosing the door behind her.

‘Thank you so much for the lovely flowers.’ Carlota’s eyes moved to them as she spoke; they stood in a tall cut-glass vase on a small table by thewindow. ‘They were doubly appreciated because of being unexpected. ’ Her gaze slid to her brother in a way that told Eleanor that thegirlhadexpected flowers from him. And there they were, by the bed, exquisite orchids.

Eleanor remained with Carlota and Dom Miguel for over an hour, and never once was the baby mentioned. Eleanor concluded that it never wouldbe mentioned again—ever. Eleanor politely asked about Portugal, learning that Dom Miguel’s income was derived from wine and cork, his owninggreat forests of cork oaks and also a cork processing factory at Portalegre. She learned that this comparatively small country of Portugal suppliedthe whole world with half its cork.

‘If you would like to go now, and have a chat with your friend,’ said Dom Miguel to Eleanor, ‘ I will send word when I am ready to leave.’

‘Thank you, yes, I would like to have half an hour or so with Nurse Leyland.’ She rose from the chair, not quite sure whether Dom Miguel wasbeing obliging, or whether she was being dismissed. ‘Goodbye, Dona Carlota,’ she smiled and, with a swift sideways glance at Dom Miguel,‘Perhaps I shall come again.’ Half question as she kept her eyes on that austere face. Dom Miguel inclined his head.

‘Tomorrow evening?’ he suggested, and Eleanor immediately agreed.

June was all agog to know the reason for the friendly attitude of the Conde. Feigning incomprehension, Eleanor asked what she meant, adding thatthe Conde had not in fact portrayed any appreciable measure of friendliness.

‘He’s allowed you to visit Dona Carlota,’ June then pointed out, gazing suspiciously at her friend. ‘With us, he’s been so aloof, and as I told you,we had strict orders from our boss that we hadn’t to ask questions of the girl.’

‘I can’t explain why he wanted me to visit Dona Carlota— except that she seemed to like me and Dom Miguel felt she was lonely.’ A white lie, ina way, as Eleanor had a very shrewd suspicion that Dom Miguel had not altogether given up hope of employing her.

To her relief June refrained from questioning her further, and the half hour they had together was spent in discussing the holiday they were to have.They intended going off to the seaside for a few days, and spending the rest of the time visiting places of interest in the capital.

‘I’ll be here again tomorrow evening,’ she was saying later when, a nurse having been sent by Dom Miguel to inform her he was ready to leave,Eleanor was standing at the front door with her friend, waiting for him to come along. ‘You’re not on duty, though?’

‘No, I go off in the morning and come on again on Tuesday.’ She glanced curiously at Eleanor and would have spoken, but at that moment DomMiguel appeared and with a swift good night Eleanor hurried to the car.

‘When will your sister be coming out?’ she asked politely after a short interval of silence.

‘I’m taking her home a week on Monday.’

‘Ten days,’ mused Eleanor. ‘She will remain in the nursing home until then?’

‘Until the evening before our departure, yes. Carlota has lost a lot of strength through this, and it is better that she remains in the home, where shewill be expertly looked after. ’

Eleanor nodded; silence fell once more and was broken only when she and the Conde bade each other good night on the car park of the hotel.

Two days later Eleanor received a telephone call from her cousin, the woman with whom she had lived after her mother died, two years beforeEleanor entered college. Eleanor had spent all her vacations with Margaret, and she was going to live with her again when she took up her teachingpost. Terry Kershawe had called, asking for Eleanor, Margaret said, and inadvertently she had mentioned that Eleanor was working temporarily atthe Sherbourne Hotel.

‘It came out before I had time to think,’ Margaret apologized. ‘It was only after he expressed his intention of going to London for a few days’holiday that I remembered how you disliked the man. I’m sure he’ll come and see you, so I thought I’d better give you some warning.’

Eleanor frowned heavily at the receiver, hesitating because she was so vexed with Margaret that she had to count ten before replying, otherwise asharpness must assuredly have entered her voice.

‘It’s a pity you gave him my address,’ she said at last, adding that it was no use worrying now, as it couldn’t be helped.

‘I’m so sorry. Will he pester you, do you think?’

‘He’s been pestering me for three years,’ returned Eleanor, suppressing her impatience with difficulty.

‘You make me feel dreadful.’

Eleanor bit her lip, then gave a deep sigh.

‘Forget it, Margaret. You couldn’t be expected to remember what I’d said about him. When is he coming—did

he say?’

‘He said he’d be there this evening; he’s travelling by coach, apparently. He said you see more that way, but I rather think he’s doing it forcheapness.’

Eleanor said nothing. Terry Kershawe had a reputation for meanness in the college, allowing even the students to pay for his coffee if he happenedto join one or more of them in the espresso bar round the corner from the college.

‘Thanks for the warning,’ she said before ringing off. ‘I’ll see you in about five weeks.’

Terry arrived that very evening. Eleanor had been asked by Dom Miguel to visit Carlota again and she had agreed, so that she had an excuse fordeclining Terry’s invitation to go to a movie. She would have refused in any case, but things were made simpler by her having a previousengagement. There could be no argument or attempts at persuasion.

‘Then come out with me tomorrow evening,’ he urged. They were in a small sitting-room which was there for the use of the staff, and as theytalked Eleanor’s eyes kept straying to the door. If only someone would come in, she thought, then Terry would have to take his leave. But no onedid come in and because they were alone he actually tried to take hold of her hand. ‘Why can’t you be more friendly? I love you—’ He broke off,

scowling as she put some distance between them. ‘I’m your headmaster,’ he said through his teeth. 'Don’t forget that, Eleanor.’

‘Not yet,’ she reminded him, wondering if she were as pale as she felt. It was part anger that brought about this pallor, but part anxiety for thefuture. Life was going to be exceedingly uncomfortable for the next year, and once again she found herself wishing she could change her job. Butshe had signed over the stamp, and even to suggest a change

would be a breach of professional etiquette. It wasn’t as if she had any reasonable excuse to offer. She could scarcely say she was expecting herheadmaster to pester her!

‘In five weeks, Eleanor. I shall be your boss—a head is like the captain of a ship, remember, and those working under him know this. ’

‘The fact that I shall be working for you doesn’t in any way entitle you to foist your attentions on me. I’ve told you that I’ve no intention ofkeeping company with you—’

‘I’ve asked you to marry me, not keep company. I love you—I’ve never loved anyone else before. Eleanor,’ he said adopting a more humble tone,‘don’t be like this. If only you knew just how much I want you, you’d not be so unkind as to refuse even to go out with me to the cinema. Sayyou’ll come, please!’

She looked at him across the room. Was she sorry for him? That he cared for her was evident, but as she could never care for him there could be nohope whatever of their getting together. She told him this, and there followed a frustrating period of argument and persuasion, and in the end, Terryactually uttered a threat.

‘You’ll live to be sorry for treating me like this! I’m your superior, and by heaven I’ll let you see it! Turning, he flung wide the door and stormedout, almost colliding with one of the room maids, who was also a student.

‘My, but he was in a fury. Friend of yours?’

White to the lips now, and exhausted by the quarrel, Eleanor said huskily,

‘Just the reverse. He’s my enemy—and what’s so awful is that he’s to be my headmaster for the next twelve months.’

CHAPTER THREE

Eleanor did not know just when the decision was made; all she did know was that, as the days sped by and the time for Dom Miguel’s departuredrew near, she was filled with a sort of urgency which she could only interpret as something akin to fear. That she should allow her fear of Terry toinfluence her was something of which she felt ashamed, and yet the idea of having him as her boss for twelve whole months— and such crucialmonths at that—so filled her with dejection that she decided at last she could not go through with it, and the decision to accept the Conde’s offerwas made.

He had been taking her every evening to the nursing home, and she told him of her change of mind when they were returning one night to thehotel. He went quiet and for one tense moment she wondered if he had now changedhismind, and no longer wanted her as a chaperone for hissister. But he said, slowing down and flicking her a sideways glance,

‘Thank you,senhorita; I am happy to know that Carlota will have you for her friend. You have no idea how much she has come to like you duringthese visits you have been kind enough to pay her.’ He paused and Eleanor thought, ‘How formal he is ... but he’s quite human, really, when youget to know him. ’ Aloud she said,

‘There will be things to do, Dom Miguel, and I can’t be ready in three days.’

‘That I understand. We can wait.’

‘Thank you.’ She thought of the letter she must write to the Education Authority, saying she had decided to go abroad for a while; she had to get apassport, and buy clothes with the money she had earned from the work she was doing. There were one or two friends to whom she must write, andthere was June ... But she would understand. And how surprised she would be!

As she allowed her mind to wander to the new life upon which she had decided to embark, Eleanor naturally tried to picture the magnificent palacein which Dom Miguel lived. It would be a strange life at first, but as Eleanor had always been adaptable she had no real fears about fitting in. Hermain concern in any case was Carlota, whom she had already come to regard with affection, and had a goodbye been necessary, she knew for sure

that it would have been a sad occasion for them both.

In just over a week Eleanor was settled in at the Palacio de Castro, having arrived there with Dom Miguel and Carlota two days previously. Herroom looked out on to the Palacio gardens, indisputably magnificent in their exotic splendour of fine trees and shrubs and flowers, many of thembrought over from various other countries by ancestors of the Conde. She had her own bathroom, with sunken bath and concealed lighting, andthick rose-coloured carpet to match the curtains.

With a little sigh of contentment she went downstairs and out on to the terrace. Clear blue skies overhead, bright sun and a myriad colourcombinations to delight the eye, peacocks strutting, ornamental pools lined with rare azulejos... What a paradise it was! How had she been soincredibly fortunate as to find herself in such a place? So hurried had been her departure from England, so busy she had been with her preparations,that she had found no time for dwelling on the wonder of it all, but she did now, and she was human enough to feel some considerable elation ather good fortune in meeting up with Dona Carlota and, in consequence, getting to know the Conde Ramiro Vincente Miguel de Castro.

‘I am indeed fortunate,’ she said, quite audibly, as she stood on the terrace looking out over the gardens to the Great Park beyond, with its regionsof thick woodland alternating with smooth and undulating grasslands where pine-shadows lingered here and there like friendly giants slumbering.Cicadas shrilled in ecstasy; birds flitted and chirped among the bushes in the shrubbery bordering the lawn, peacocks spread their brilliant plumageto entice the unresponsive hens.

Into Eleanor’s dreamy vision strode the tall upright figure of her employer, noble hauteur in every step he took. Reaching her, he inquiredanxiously about his sister, who, since her return to Portugal, had been far from well.

‘She’s resting, Dom Miguel,’ replied Eleanor politely. ‘She was asleep when I left her. ’

Dom Miguel was reassured.

‘She’s improving every day now,’ he said gravely. ‘I had feared she might have a nervous breakdown. ’

‘She was certainly morose,’ agreed Eleanor, going on to add that Carlota was over that period now and her recovery should not take very long.

The Conde’s deep-set eyes met hers, briefly.

‘You’ve been good for her,senhorita; it was fortunate that we found you. ’

‘Thank you, Dom Miguel,’ returned Eleanor, suddenly shy, and blushing faintly. ‘It’s kind of you to say that.’

‘It is the truth,senhorita,so there’s no need for you to credit me with kindness,’ and, not anticipating any response to this he walked past her,striding majestically towards the house.

For a long while she remained on the terrace, musing on the stiffness and reserve that characterized Dom Miguel’s whole demeanour. Only withCarlota was he in any way gentle. And yet, recalling his manner with her, Eleanor, as he mentioned her kindness in visiting his sister, Eleanorremembered her own conviction that he was quite human.

As the weeks passed Eleanor began to sense a shadow hanging over the Palacio ... and yet no amount of brain-searching on her part yielded thefaintest clue. The incipient thread of a mystery was spun when Carlota, having chatted about all sorts of things, went completely dumb whenEleanor in the course of conversation happened to say, apropos of something just mentioned,

‘Your brother will of course marry one day? I mean, he will naturally want an heir. ’

The silence was much more than a hush of indecision; it was palpable in a most disturbing way—so disturbing that Eleanor had immediately put anend to it by changing the subject.

The second thread came into being when, having left Carlota to take a siesta, Eleanor had decided to spend an hour in the portrait gallery, and aftergazing up at the magnificent ceiling, which was painted and studded with gold bosses, and after standing a while admiring the statues and the fineGothic doorway leading off into another beautifully-proportioned room, she began to examine the pictures. Ancestors of the Conde ... how noblethey looked! But how austere and autocratic. Vicente Diego Laurenco Henriques de Castro was especially forbidding, and Leonor his wife lookedtoo cold by far to have given birth to Nuno Jose Goncalo Froylas de Castro, but she had. One after another ... there they were, dozens of them,lining two enormous walls, some set in large and florid frames, others much less flamboyantly bordered, but all bearing the distinguished stamp ofthe Portuguese aristocracy.

Eleanor actually gave a shudder on first glancing at the bearded Martim Tavira Nuno Ordonho de Castro, so frightening did he appear in hissplendid robes and with his thin set mouth and fierce grey eyes.

‘Did you have a wife, I wonder?’ she murmured audibly— then started visibly on hearing a voice behind her say,

‘Of course.’

She swung round, colour enchantingly mounting to her cheeks.

‘I was talking to myself ...’ She gave a small, deprecating flick of her hands. Dom Miguel said quietly, side-stepping the interruption,

‘We can trace our descent in an absolutely pure male line from the year 987.’ Pride in his tone and a hint of arrogance playing about his mouth; hewas so tall beside her, tall and broad-shouldered, with very dark brown hair and deep metallic grey eyes. He was like a star out of reach, shethought, then allowed herself a secret smile at this description. He had begun to walk towards the door through which Eleanor had entered; it wasright at the end of the long narrow room and automatically she walked in step beside him, not consciously aware of what she did, otherwise shewould have stopped to question whether or not he would desire her company. Feeling a little unsure of herself and awkward once her actionregistered, she endeavoured to recover her composure by remarking on one or other of the portraits they passed. Suddenly noticing a space—butfor the moment not noticing the portrait next to the space—she said, flicking an indicating hand,

‘Has something been removed from there?’

Silence. The same awful hush that had prevailed after her suggestion to Carlota that one day the Conde would marry. In the stillness Eleanor’s eyessought his ... and a dread chill passed through her so that the blood in her veins seemed for one brief moment to be turned to ice. For DomMiguel’s features—those features which she had described to herself as superlatively handsome—had taken on an aspect of almost satanicharshness. His full, aristocratic mouth was twisted, as if at some indescribably tormenting and hateful memory, a memory that crushed every finequality he possessed, and left only the quality of baseness which is inherent in every man but which, for the most part, lies dormant his whole lifethrough. His grey eyes were terrible to see, so hard and merciless had they become. What had she said to bring about so dramatic a change?Although she was completely in the dark, she nevertheless opened her mouth to say, ‘I’m sorry, Dom Miguel,’ but before she had time to do so hehad turned abruptly, and within seconds he was gone.

Trembling slightly, Eleanor stood there staring at the great arched doorway through which he had passed, but after a little while she too made forthe door, glancing sideways as she did so—then stopped dead. The portrait of the Conde was there, the most attractive and striking of them all.Handsome, proud, superior ... and yet there was an unexpected softness about the eyes that had a most odd effect on Eleanor. An explicabletingling of a nerve ... the almost imperceptible fluttering of the heart ... Her gaze was held to the painting for a long, long while; no doubt at all,there was something compelling about it, something that held her in the same way she was held on the day of her first glimpse of Dom Miguel, inthe corridor of the Sherbourne Hotel.

At last she moved away, glancing for a second at the space next to the portrait of the Conde; there was a mystery, but although she was intriguedby this fact, she soon dismissed the matter from her mind, fully aware that it was no business of hers. She was here as companion-protector toDona Carlota, and as an employee she must remember to mind her own business.

Another three weeks passed uneventfully. Eleanor and Carlota rode in the Great Park, they swam in the lovely ornamental heated pool, they wentinto Lisbon to shop. The only occasions when they were not together were when Dom Miguel entertained, and this was not often. Carlota would ofcourse act as hostess, and Eleanor in her position of employee dined in a small sitting-room which Dom Miguel had told her to use whenever shewished. It was an elegant apartment, though not so luxuriously furnished as the rest of the house. Carlota told Eleanor that it was there for the useof ‘favoured’ servants.

‘Have there been other favoured servants?’ Eleanor inquired with some amusement and, aware of what she had said, the girl blushed rosily.

‘I should not have referred to you as a servant, should I?’ ‘That’s what I am, Carlota,’ and then, ‘Tell me about these other favoured ones?’

Carlota bit her lip and glanced away; it was not difficult to see that she was endeavouring to avoid her companion’s gaze. ‘We had a sort of lady’smaid...’

‘For you?’

‘Yes,’ so swiftly that it was clearly a lie. ‘Yes, for me.’ Eleanor had allowed the matter to drop—but the more she pondered on it the more she

sensed a mystery.

This was considerably deepened one day when the housekeeper came upon Eleanor as she was going upstairs. She spoke in English, complainingabout her rheumatism which, she said, was becoming so bad that she had difficulty in going upstairs. In her hand she held a gold-backed notebookand a matching pencil. Dom Miguel had left them in the saloon; but they belonged on the table by his bed, she told Eleanor, adding that he alwaysliked to keep them there so that he could jot things down which he wished to remember.

‘If they weren’t there he would be furious,’ she ended dramatically, and Eleanor had to smile. Formidable as the Conde was she could not by anystretch of imagination imagine his being furious for so trivial a matter, especially as he himself had left the pad and pencil downstairs.

‘Would you like me to take them up for you?’ offered Eleanor as with difficulty the woman began to climb the stairs.

‘Would you, Miss Eleanor? I am much obliged to you, I’m sure.’ The pad and pencil changed hands. ‘You know which is Dom Miguel’sroom?—but of course you do.’

The room was entered through an arched doorway decorated in gold, and as she pushed the door inwards Eleanor experienced a faint fluttering ofnerves even though she knew for sure that the Conde was out. She had stood with Carlota on the terrace an hour or so previously and watched thesilver-crested chauffeur-driven car glide noiselessly out of the courtyard. Dom Miguel had lifted a hand in salute to his sister, and he had alsoacknowledged Eleanor with a faint inclination of his head.

So there was nothing to fear, and once the bedroom door had swung wide open Eleanor entered without hesitation, walking over the deep softcarpet towards the table by the bed. But suddenly she stopped in her tracks, stiffening as she realized there was someone in the next room. Theconnecting door was slightly ajar and at first Eleanor thought that on the other side there was either a dressing-room or a bathroom. Could DomMiguel have returned unnoticed either by Carlota or herself? Trembling, she glanced wildly around as she glimpsed a movement through the crackwhere hinges connected the door with the jamb; she panicked and instead of making for the corridor she flung herself behind the heavy velvetcurtains hanging at the side of a large window.

Fool! she told herself immediately. Dom Miguel had come back and now she was trapped. Perhaps he would go out of the room immediately ... orperhaps he might even decide to take a siesta! In which case he would surely get undressed first!

‘What a stupid idiotic thing to do,’ she chided herself. ‘The obvious thing to have done was act naturally, putting the pad and pencil down and,when he came out, explained that I was saving Ina’s legs.’

What was to be done now—? Her question was cut short as she heard the communicating door close, very softly. Two curtains hung at each side ofthe window and on the side on which she was hidden they had been drawn back in a way which left a minute space between, and through this shesaw to her surprise— and relief—that the person was a woman. She was moving across the floor of Dom Miguel’s room, and over her arm was abeautiful fur coat. Mink... Puzzled in the extreme now, for the woman was easily recognised as one of the maids, Eleanor moved closer to thechink in the curtains and watched the woman look furtively at the door she had closed, go back to it and try it, to make absolutely sure she had infact closed it properly, then move silently across the room again and out through the main door, pulling it to behind her.

Eleanor came from her hiding-place, put down the pad and pencil, and stood for a long moment staring at the connecting door. A fur coat... Whatwas a fur coat doing in Dom Miguel’s dressing-room?

‘Mind your own business,’ said a tiny voice within her.

But she was intrigued and although she knew it was very wrong, she could not resist just having a peep into that room. And when she opened thedoor she stood and gasped.

So Dom Miguelhadbeen married...!

Slowly, and drawn by some strange compulsive force, Eleanor moved over to the dressing-table. A more elegant and lovely piece of furniture shehad never seen—in fact, it was this as much as the splendour of the rest of the room which had drawn that gasp from her in the first place. On thedressing-table gold-backed brushes lay, with a matching comb. Crystal perfume bottles, lovely Dresden seraphs with hands outstretched ... thesewere to hold jewellery, rings and necklaces and bracelets. But there was nothing on them now. Automatically she picked up one of the brushes,noting the initials: D. A. P. de C. Replacing the brush, but somehow unable to move, Eleanor found herself recalling the several incidents whichhad, to her imaginative mind, compounded to form a mystery. There was the space beside the Conde’s portrait, the profound hush when she,Eleanor, had suggested to Carlota that her brother would marry some day. There was the ‘lady’s maid’ of which Carlota had spoken. All these

added up—but not to a mystery as Eleanor had supposed. No, it was all very clear and straightforward. Dom Miguel’s wife had died. Or had she?Could there possibly have been a divorce? Automatically Eleanor shook her head. She did not believe that Dom Miguel would agree with divorce.

Dom Miguel a widower, and so young. Eleanor recalled that terrible look on his face, that day in the portrait gallery. She had thought at the timethat his expression was harsh, Satanic; she now knew it was pain that had brought about that terrible twist to his features. Pain ... She felt her breathcatch, her heart quiver in a strange unfathomable way. And suddenly, for no tangible reason, she wanted to go back in time—just a fewmoments—to when she knew nothing of this wife of the Conde’s, this wife on whom he had lavished luxury ... and love.

At last she moved, her eyes narrowing as she saw again the maid with that beautiful coat. Obviously there was a good reason for removing it, andEleanor supposed the Conde had ordered that it be put where it would be protected from moths. How long had his wife been dead? Not long—notif the coat were only now being removed. Stopping again and standing by the large white bed, Eleanor told herself that one or two parts of thepicture did not quite fit in. The coat would surely have been removed before this. And in any case, why was Julia acting in so furtive a manner?Had she been told by Dom Miguel to remove the coat then why was she going on as if she were stealing it? Then there was the question of Carlotaand her baby. Carlota had been lonely, she said, because her brother was away visiting his otherquintas,and that was how she came to be keepingcompany with the man who was to become the father of her child. Where at this time was the

Conde’s wife? He could have taken her with him, of course, but surely he would have taken Carlota also. In fact, it had already puzzled Eleanorthat Dom Miguel should go off and leave so young a girl to her own devices. The last, and most important and tantalizing question was whyneither Dom Miguel nor Carlota had ever mentioned this wife. Eleanor supposed that, had she mixed with the servants, she might have gleanedsomething about the Conde’s marriage, but right from the first Eleanor had sensed that her employer would not approve of her mixing with themand in fact there had been neither the need nor the opportunity of doing so.

Musing again on that silence which followed when she, Eleanor, had touched on the question of the Conde getting married some day, she didwonder why Carlota had not admitted that her brother had been married, for in the hospital she had not been in the least averse to confiding inEleanor.

Frowning heavily, Eleanor chafed at her inability to find answers to all these questions, then admonished herself for making fanciful deductions inthe first place; had she not done so the questions would not have arisen. Her deductions were probably all wrong. Dom Miguel might not havebeen married at all ... but some instinct told her that in this at least she was not mistaken, for so much pointed to the fact of his at one time having awife. That space in the portrait gallery— undoubtedly it had once been occupied by the portrait of the Conde’s wife. And, stricken with grief at herdeath, he had had it removed.

‘There I go again,’ she admonished. ‘His wife might not have died; there could have been a divorce—improbable but certainly not impossible.’

Impatient with herself, and frustrated at her inability to fit the pieces into a clear connected whole, she dismissed the matter from her mind and,realizing with a start that she had been here far too long already, and that at any moment the Conde might return, she closed the connecting door,left the Conde’s apartment, and went along the thickly-carpeted corridor to her own bedroom.

What had she come up for? Eleanor could not for the life of her remember and she gave a deep sigh as she sat down on the bed. She feltinexpressibly flat and depressed and there was a strange tightness in her throat. Once again she wished she could go back just that few moments intime. Why should she feel like this simply because she had discovered that Dom Miguel had been married?

‘You don’t know for sure!’ she told herself sternly, and on that she determinedly did put the whole matter from her mind.

But not for long. Something had happened to her up there in that beautiful room, with its white bed and curtains, and its walls hung with blue andgold damask. And questions persisted, refusing to be thrust off. She also experienced a tenseness, a tingling of nerves and muscles, this especiallyat dinner that evening when, sitting at the candlelit table with Dom Miguel and his sister, she fancied that he looked at her with rather more interestthan previously. It could be imagination, she told herself, and yet, several times when she looked up from her plate, it was to find his grey eyesfixed upon her.

‘Senhorita,’he murmured in his deep rich voice, ‘you are not eating.’

She had been staring at him, she suddenly realized, flushing self-consciously and quickly taking up her knife and fork. Her emotions were chaotic,for although she now lowered her gaze and appeared to be concentrating on her food, all she really wanted to do was continue to look at him!Presently she raised her eyes, but avoided his—with extreme difficulty. She looked across at Carlota instead, noting with satisfaction that sheappeared to be improving rapidly and Eleanor felt thankful that the experience through which the girl had passed had not done any permanent

harm, especially to her mind. Eleanor dwelt for a space on her future, wondering if, when the right man came along and asked the Conde’spermission to marry Carlota, the ‘lapse’ would be kept from him. Glancing at Dom Miguel from under her lashes, Eleanor felt deeply for him,aware that to such a man pride was perhaps the most important thing in his life, and she could not imagine him lowering it sufficiently to informany suitor of his sister’s indiscretion. On the other hand, she knew without doubt that he was possessed of an innate honesty which must assuredlyinfluence him. Did he feel any selfblame over the affair? she wondered, once again puzzled as to his leaving Carlota to her own devices, for of acertainty there was a deep sense of duty supplementing the affection he had for his sister.

After dinner the three retired to the beautiful salon overlooking the floodlit gardens, where exotic trees and shrubs drowsed in the deep silence ofthe night. To one side of the great expanse of lawn fronting the Palacio stood a fountain shaped like an arch supported by four pillars and caryatids,and decorated by early blue azulejos. On the high front, ornately engraved on a stone plaque, was the crest of the Castro family. A small chapelshone in the moonlit distance, the private place of worship of the family. Built in Italian Renaissance style, it was exquisitely decorated withcherubs and shepherds and garlands of flowers, while mellowed stone reliefs represented the Adoration of the Kings. In the reflected lightseductively emitted from concealed lamps fixed to the ornamental facade of the Palacio, the water from the fountain became dyed with rainbowcolours, rising as if from some fairy-tale spring. Leaning back in her chair, sipping the liqueur which had been served with the coffee, Eleanorallowed her thoughts to wander retrospectively to that last meeting with Terry Kershawe, in the hotel; she recalled her dejection at the idea ofhaving him for her headmaster for the probationary year of her teaching; she remembered her growing fear and dread that had culminated in heracceptance of the Conde’s offer. So much was changed then, and as she gazed at the scene out there, in the magnificent Palacio grounds, she knewa feeling of unreality, as if this were all some rather wonderful dream from which she must reluctantly awake. Her eyes strayed to Carlota, whowas stifling a yawn. Once the girl was married then there would be no need for a companion to protect her. Eleanor’s eyes moved from the girl toher brother, deep in thought with one long lean hand halfclosed, resting under his chin. He was too attractive by far, she thought, unable to take hereyes from that noble finely-modelled face. The Conde Ramiro Vicente Miguel de Castro had just about everything nature could bestow—this inaddition to possessing more than a fair share of the world’s goods. Wine and cork ... from these his wealth had come, mainly, though Carlota hadonce said that he had important interests in the famous Portuguese fishing industry, owning factories where several kinds of fish were canned forexport.

Faintly Eleanor sighed, her musings reverting to the time when her services were no longer required and she would return to her own country, totake up the teaching career for which she had been trained. Life must assuredly be dull after all this, but she expected she would adapt without toomuch trouble, and this interlude would become a pleasant memory which she would enjoy recalling, and about which she would love to talk.

‘Miguel,’ Carlota was saying, dainty fingers going to her mouth, ‘I’m so very tired. Will you excuse me if I go to bed?’ Her glance strayed, toembrace Eleanor who automatically nodded her head. Dom Miguel smiled and said gently,

‘Yes, dear, of course. Itisonly tiredness?’ he went on to add, an anxious note creeping into his voice. ‘You’re not feeling unwell?’

Carlota smiled reassuringly, saying no, she was not feeling unwell.

‘But Eleanor and I walked and walked this morning, and now the effect of so much fresh air is catching up on me.’ Rising as she spoke, she lookedat her brother for a moment. ‘You yourself do not seem as well as usual. I think you work too hard. ’

‘Perhaps I shall take a rest,’ he decided unexpectedly. ‘We might all take a holiday. ’

His sister’s face brightened.

‘That will be lovely! Where shall we go?’

A spread of Miguel’s hands and then, carelessly,

‘I’ve no idea, Carlota. Perhaps you and Eleanor would like to make the decision; then I can make the plans.’

Eleanor felt her colour rise at the use of her name. Hitherto it had always been the formal ‘senhorita’, spoken with a faintly accented aloofwithdrawal, although Eleanor noticed particularly that there had never been any hint of condescension in his manner towards her; she felt thatalthough he made no show of it he was in reality extremely grateful to her for consenting to come to Portugal as companion to his sister.

‘You mean,’ she said a little awkwardly, ‘that I am to come on the holiday too?’

‘But of course,’ from Carlota without hesitation. ‘I cannot ever do without you now, Eleanor. ’

A suspended smile hovered on the Conde’s fine lips, breaking only after Carlota had turned and left the room.

‘You are good for my sister,senhorita.’ he said as the door closed. ‘I hope that you will make your home with us permanently. ’

Startled by this unexpected request, Eleanor forgot the tinge of flatness that had followed his reversion to the more formal mode of address, andshe looked into his face bewilderedly as she said,

‘Carlota will marry some day, Dom Miguel, and then my services will no longer be required.’

‘Marry?’ with a lift of his brows. ‘I’m afraid marriage for Carlota is not possible now,senhorita.’

‘But—?’ Making a small impatient gesture with her hand, Eleanor went on to say that one small lapse could not mar his sister’s whole life. TheConde’s brows rose even higher, and a sort of frowning censure entered his eyes.

‘Here,senhorita, what happened to Carlota would not be considered a small lapse. Is that how you yourself consider it?’

Nerves tingled; the marked alteration in his voice, the penetration of those metallic grey eyes, the strange tenseness of his manner... All these speltsome subtle point in the question, and even his attitude of waiting, eyes narrowing slowly and almost imperceptibly, seemed to heighten theimportance of the query ... and of her reply. Guardedly she

spoke, looking gravely at him.

‘I have never treated such matters lightly, Dom Miguel, please don’t think that. But on the other hand I never judge others harshly. There is asaying, you know, “But for the grace of God there go I.” We are not entitled to condemn others for what we have escaped ourselves. ’ Her eyeswere open and frank and quite unconsciously she was shaking her head a little, and the light caught her hair bringing out tints that for a fleetingmoment held the entire attention of the Conde.

‘You are generous,senhorita,’ he said at length, pausing a moment before he added, ‘I’m not quite sure that I agree with the word escaped. Oneescapes from a trap. My sister deliberately courted trouble.’

For a few seconds silence hung on the air; Eleanor knew an awkwardness in this conversation, and in addition it did seem most strange to her thatthe Conde should be speaking to her so dispassionately about his sister’s misdemeanour. It would have been more in character, she thought, if hehad refrained from ever mentioning it again. Of course, this had ensued after her own mention of marriage for Carlota, so perhaps it wasunderstandable that the conversation should have followed along these lines.

‘No young girl, especially one in Carlota’s position, deliberately courts trouble. Carlota told me she was lonely when you were away from home...’ She tailed off, aware that she should not have repeated this. And yet, now that the words had unwittingly left her lips, she was inordinatelyinterested to note their effect on her companion, since they must bring home to him his own mistake in leaving the girl to her own devices.

A long profound silence followed; she held her breath, fearing she was in for a reprimand, if only mildly given. Dom Miguel’s expressionremained impassive for a short time and then, as on a previous occasion, her blood seemed to turn to ice in her veins as she watched thetransformation in her companion’s features. By what process did his mind work to bring out this satanic harshness? she wondered fearfully.

What unbearable memory caused the ugly twist to his mouth, and the dark savagery to enter his eyes? She recalled that other occasion, in theportrait gallery, when she had raised an involuntary, ‘I’m sorry,’ but before it could be uttered Dom Miguel had left her standing there, wonderingat the dramatic change which her casual inquiry had caused in him. Now as then she felt an urge to apologize, but she held her tongue, realizingshe was tensed and every nerve in her body seemed to be stretched and taut, painfully so. She felt poised on a knife-edge as she waited, for whatseemed an eternity, before he spoke. The harshness she expected to hear in his voice was absent; what she heard—the faintly unsteady note—shetook to be pain at some agonizing memory, and her mind switched naturally to the wife she felt sure he once had.

‘It was most unfortunate she was left—’ His voice cut off; the changed expression was once again miraculous, for now his features had resumedtheir familiar attractive nobleness, and the full mouth seemed almost tender. ‘I blame myself for that. I should have been more observant... ’

Observant? Eleanor stared at him, questioningly. But he seemed a long way off and she was prevented from intruding into his thoughts by somewarning whisper inside her. He was with the woman he had loved, she felt sure, and instinct urged her to rise and say good night, leaving himalone ... with his memories. She was almost on her feet when he turned, and she saw him frown slightly and shake his head, as if he would nothave her go at all, but remain with him, so that memories could not take full possession—and bring excruciating pain.

‘I—I was going to bed,’ she stammered, sitting down again awkwardly in her comfortable low armchair.

‘You’re tired,senhorita?’ Coolly now and with the merest hint of a smile.

Eleanor shook her head, conscious of a desire to stay with him ... to be alone with him in this lovely room with its atmosphere of cosiness despiteits luxurious appointments, and of peace despite the obvious turmoil of her companion’s mind.

‘Not really—but I felt you would like to be alone.’ He

looked surprised. It was almost as if he himself were not aware of the tenseness of the past few moments.

‘I gave that impression?’

A hand fluttered in a little helpless gesture as she sought for a casual-sounding reply.

‘You looked sort of—preoccupied, and I thought that perhaps you’d prefer to be left on your own.’ Her awkwardness remained, though inwardly.Dom Miguel examined her face as if seeing it in a new light.

‘You obviously have a deep understanding of people,senhorita,’ he murmured at length, but added that, no matter what impression he had given,he had no immediate desire to be on his own. Such an admission, coming from the proud and superior Dom Miguel de Castro, naturally tookEleanor by surprise. It also imbued her with a strange sort of warmth and as in the soft silence she found his dark eyes holding hers she knew aprofound sense of expectancy ... and of fear.

A long while later, lying in her big bed, so comfortable and warm, and yet unable to sleep, Eleanor went over the whole events of the evening. TheConde had been different ... and so had she. It was as if, for the first time, they had been equals.

CHAPTER FOUR

Eleanor was in the garden, strolling about in the bright summer sunshine as she waited for Carlota to come down from her room. They were goingoff to pay a visit to the Sunday market where, so Eleanor had been told in a recent letter from a friend who had stayed near Sintra, it was possibleto buy small antiques and other bric-a-brac. A collector in a small way, Eleanor was looking forward to picking up something really attractive.

She glanced up automatically to the balcony outside Carlota’s bedroom, and smiled to herself. Like all girls of her age Carlota spent far too longmaking herself look pretty. But with a shrug of resignation Eleanor continued to stroll in the warm sunshine, stopping at one of the most beautifuladjuncts to the grounds—the Fountain of the Mermaids. Unusual embossed azulejos formed part of its structure. Of Moorish design and very oldindeed, they depicted flowers and trees and vine-leaves. Eleanor reflected on what Carlota had said about the Palacio’s collection of Moorish tiles;it was excelled only by that of the old royal palace, which until the end of the sixteenth century had been the favourite summer retreat of the royalfamily of Portugal. That was why so many of the Portuguese nobility, like Dom Miguel’s forebears, had settled in the environs of Sintra,establishing greatquintasamid fairytale-like country which formed a delightfully verdant oasis above the arid plains and was coolly shaded by theforests of the Serra. The same trees, sweet-scented evergreen strawberry-trees and the magnificent cedars, grew in the grounds of the Palacio, aswell as the more exotic Judas trees and jacarandas, coral-trees and delicately-perfumed oleanders.

For five minutes or more Eleanor stood in drowsy silence before the fountain. Cherubs and angels adorned the high arches, or reposed supinelyalong its low walls which themselves advertised the graceful elegance of rococo. The

Portuguese, Eleanor decided, were endowed with an instinctive desire for embellishment. Her eyes wandered to the flamboyant peacocks struttingabout on the terraced lawns, to the cascading stream and waterfalls, and the pavilion with its classical lines illustrative of the Italian Renaissance.Over the low walls of the terracing along one whole length of the lawn climbers tumbled in a riot of subtropical profusion—the soft pinky-mauveand blue stars of the passion flowers caught the sun’s rays in a delightful flare of colour; bougainvillaeas spilled over in their midst; the coral, redand orange of bignonias mingled with the smoother, softer hues of the fragile convolvulus. Eleanor wondered just how many varieties of trees andplants the grounds of the Palacio boasted, for down through the ages ancestors of the Conde had introduced specimens from many countries of theworld, including Australia and New Zealand, China and Japan, South Africa and the West Indies. This Carlota had told her one day when theywere sunbathing on the lawn. Dom Miguel had joined them, clad in shorts and a casual shirt, and in his customary formal, rather austere way, hehad supplemented what Carlota was saying, so that Eleanor now had in her possession knowledge of the various stages of alteration andimprovement through which the lovely building and its grounds had passed. One point stood out; there had never been a time when the cost wascounted. The Castros had always been able to afford what they wanted—and more. Yet despite the air of superiority and hauteur with which as anoblehidalgohe was endowed, Dom Miguel had spoken with a noticeable modesty when referring to his possessions, which left Eleanor with the

impression that he was ever conscious of the fact that these were inherited, and he the fortunate heir.

That conversation filtered into her memory now and she recalled the way the Conde’s attraction had made an impact on her very similar to thatwhich she had experienced on the night he had driven her home after having caught her in his sister’s room at the nursing-home. She had knownonce again that strong emotional grip, and this time, with a sort of desperate and angry negation, she had thrust away the dawning glimmer ofrevelation which strove to penetrate her consciousness. And ever since, she had whenever possible avoided conversation with the Conde, andcertainly she had avoided finding herself alone with him, since it was neither comfortable nor sensible to allow him to dominate her thoughts theway he had after she had gone to bed that night. For several hours she had lain awake, seeing his handsome face, austere yet compelling, proud andyet attractive, with character lines clearly etched in features dark and strong, and formidable in a way that could frighten even while they excited.

Turning to glance up at Carlota’s window, Eleanor wondered what on earth she could be doing all this time. If she only knew, she was as lovely ascould be, without the necessity of resorting to the artificial. Her beautiful dark eyes required no shadow or mascara, her lips no added colouring.

Reaching the south border where the garden merged almost imperceptibly with the woodlands that constituted the Great Park beyond, Eleanor wasjust deciding she would turn back when to her surprise she noticed a movement in the distance. It was no more than a flash of colour in the trees along way off and although she stood still, waiting, she was already telling herself that it was only a bird in flight that had caught her eye. Ready toforget all about it, she suddenly felt her nerves go taut and her pulse quicken, and instinctively she took cover behind the thick trunk of a tree.

A man and a woman... So great was the distance that features could not be focused; also, the vegetation was thick, with flowering bushesoccupying grassy clearings in the woods, and so it was impossible to estimate even the build of the couple. They were talking, and Eleanor saw thewoman point once or twice towards the house. What were they doing in Dom Miguel’s park? Who were they? Eleanor’s first thought was,naturally, of burglary—she wondered if they were planning one. Then immediately she dismissed this, as it was absurd. No would-be robbers weregoing to stand in the park and talk about their plans. What should she do? Eleanor felt like approaching them and asking what they were doinghere, but then it occurred to her that they might be Dom Miguel’s employees, with a perfect right to be standing talking together on his property.Yes, she finally decided, actually feeling foolish at her suspicions, they must belong here; no one would trespass on the Conde’s land.

‘Eleanor ... where are you?’ Carlota’s voice reached her across the great expanse of garden and Eleanor automatically turned her head ... but notbefore she had seen the man and woman dart for the cover afforded by a small ornamental copse close to where they had been standing.

Carlota was running towards her and Eleanor reluctantly left the spot and went to meet her.

‘Oh, dear, do forgive me, Eleanor,’ gasped Carlota, 'but my hair took so long to do! I hope you like my new style!’

‘Carlota,’ interrupted Eleanor as the girl would have added something to this, ‘there is a couple—a man and woman— over in the woods. Do youknow if they have any right there?’ ‘A man and woman?’ Bewilderedly Carlota looked in the direction indicated by Eleanor’s hand. ‘I don’t know.We have many men working in the grounds— even on Sundays. ’ ‘The woman—what would she be doing there?’ Frowning slightly as she spokeEleanor wondered once more if she were worrying unnecessarily, imagining something which wasn’t there. True, the couple had appeared to beacting guiltily in making for the copse on hearing Carlota’s call, but it now struck Eleanor that the meeting could be in the nature of a romanticone, and clandestine, the man being an employee of Dom Miguel who was taking time off to talk with his girlfriend, who had stolen into the parkto see him. This would be

a most feasible explanation for the hurried dart into the copse.

‘I don’t know why a woman should be there,’ replied Carlota in a puzzled voice. ‘Where are these people? I can’t see them. ’

‘They went into that copse when they heard you call to me.’ Carlota was still looking puzzled, but not particularly interested and, shrugging,Eleanor added, ‘There must be some reason, I expect. But it isn’t important to us. Come, dear, let’s go.’

‘I wish Miguel were at home,’ unexpectedly as they got into the car, behind the wheel of which sat a uniformed chauffeur. ‘We could then havetold him about that woman.’ ‘Yes,’ agreed Eleanor with a faint sigh, ‘we could.’ Dom Miguel was at hisquintanear Portalegre where he grewleagues of cork-oaks. He would be away for about four or five days, he had said. On his return they were to take their holiday, but as yet the girlshad not decided where they would like to go. Carlota had suggested that Eleanor would like to visit Lisbon and Eleanor agreed, but she hesitatedabout making a definite decision as, somehow, she doubted very much whether Dom Miguel would enjoy taking a holiday in the capital. From theway he had spoken she imagined he would prefer a more relaxed type of holiday, for after all he was taking it merely for the rest from work.

The market at Sao Pedro de Sintra more than exceeded Eleanor’s expectations. She bought two ivory figures, an exquisite small lustre jug and, at

another stall, some handmade lace table mats.

‘Is it too late to have lunch out?’ Carlota asked the question in doubtful tones, as it was almost two o’clock. ‘Perhaps we had better go home andhave a snack.’

‘You can get lunch at this time,senhorita,’ said Gregorio to Eleanor as the two girls stood, undecided, by the car, ‘at the Palacio de Seteais.’

‘You’re sure, Gregorio?’ Carlota looked eagerly at him.

‘You know this for certain?’

‘I do know this,senhorita,’ he replied respectfully, and so off they went to the luxurious ‘Palace of the Seven Sighs’, built by a Dutch diamondmerchant and now an hotel owned by the State. After pre-lunch drinks on the terrace overlooking the gardens to the sea below, Eleanor and Carlotaate a delicious meal ofpresuntoserved with chilled honeydew melon, baked duck served in a dish of saffron-coloured rice,pudimflan and tinycheeses made from fresh curds, which they ate with a glass of wine.

‘That was lovely!’ Carlota exclaimed, and Eleanor had to smile.

‘You sound as if you’ve never had such a meal in your life, Carlota.’

The Portuguese girl responded to her laughter.

‘It was so nice having it with you. My brother was very kind in finding me so amiable a companion as you. ’

‘How formal you sound! And I shall blush at your flattery if you continue like this. I love being here, Carlota. I’ m the lucky one, having procuredso pleasant a post—and so easy a one. Why, I’m always telling myself that I don’t earn my money.’

‘Money,’ frowned Carlota with a shake of her pretty head. ‘Don’t mention it, Eleanor, please. I don’t at all like the idea of Miguel’s paying you asalary.’

‘No?’ with a touch of amusement from Eleanor.

A reluctant smile broke over Carlota’s features.

‘You have to be paid—but you know what I mean. I want only to think of you as my friend. You see, I’ve never had a friend before,’ she went onconfidingly, and with an eager impetuosity that brought forth what she hadn’t meant to say. ‘Dora disliked me intensely—and so she never tookme anywhere with her—’ With a tiny gasp she broke off, staring at Eleanor with a scared expression. They were approaching the car, beside whichGregorio was standing, straight and almost military-looking in his severity. They got in and Eleanor had to say, as the car began to glide from thefront of the hotel,

‘Dora was your sister-in-law?’ She was thinking of the initials on the hairbrush which she had picked up from the dressing-table on the day she hadseen Julia with the fur coat.

A most odd silence fell upon the car while Carlota seemed to be struck with hesitancy about replying to Eleanor’s question. But at last she turnedto her and nodded.

‘Yes, she was.’ Eleanor said nothing. Some weight had dropped on her, a weight which she impatiently endeavoured to throw off, but she had thepremonition that it would in fact become heavier still. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken of Dora,’ Carlota was saying a little fearfully. ‘My brother gaveorders to everyone that she must not be mentioned. But I’m glad I’ve told you about her, because several times her name has almost slipped out,and it’s a strain when you have something about which you must remain always guarded. You will not ever let my brother know that I have spokenof Dora, though?’

‘Of course not, Carlota.’ A pause and then, ‘She’s dead, I suppose?’ Why so tense her nerves? Eleanor wondered. But why prevaricate withherself? Without analysing her feelings regarding the Conde, Eleanor did at least know that she would be relieved to discover that he had no wifeliving.

‘Yes, she’s dead.’ Something unfathomable caught at Carlota’s voice; Eleanor concluded she was feeling deeply for her brother at this time. Aftera little while Eleanor just had to say,

‘Your brother was very much in love with her?’

Carlota nodded her head.

‘He adored her,’ replied the girl in husky tones. ‘She was so very beautiful. Eleanor, you have never seen a more beautiful woman than my sister-in-law. It broke my brother’s heart when he lost her. ’

Eleanor swallowed hard, attempting to clear the sudden blockage in her throat. It was all as she had deduced. The Conde broken-hearted, though inthe main managing successfully to hide his pain; his having to remove the portrait of his beloved simply because he could not bear the sight ofit—not yet, thought Eleanor. Some day he would have recovered a little and then he would surely have it replaced. She recalled the savageexpression that had swept every vestige of attractiveness from his face, and she could see now that he had been bitterly cursing the fate that hadrobbed him of the woman he loved.

‘How long...?’ Eleanor stopped, aware that to Carlota this conversation must be painful in the extreme, not because of any pain the loss might havegiven her, as this could not have been very great, but because of the unhappiness of her brother, whom she dearly loved, just as he loved her. ‘I’msorry, Carlota; you don’t want to talk about your sister-in-law.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind—not now that I have mentioned her to you. She’s been dead just over eight months.’

Eight months—Thoughtfully Eleanor looked at the back of Gregorio’s head, reflecting on what Carlota had just said about Dora’s disliking her,and in consequence never taking her about with her.

‘You once said you felt lonely when your brother went away—did he take his wife with him?’

‘No; she remained at home.’ Eleanor frowned, wanting to ask another question but refraining simply because it was far too personal. However, onglancing sideways at Eleanor, the Portuguese girl seemed to guess at her thoughts and went on to explain, without any hesitation whatsoever, thatDora had had many friends and always there was a call on her time. This was how she, Carlota, came to be left alone so much, with the result thatshe had resorted to the company of the man who was eventually to bring dire disgrace upon her.

‘Much as my brother loved his wife,’ Carlota went on, her face losing a little of its colour as if at some terribly unpleasant memory, ‘he was in adreadful fury with her when he discovered what had happened to me. Dora would not accept any responsibility and, as I tried to make my brotherbelieve, no blame at all attached to her. I—I knew what I was doing.’ Carlota turned away, which was natural, and for a long moment her attentionappeared to be on the fierce-looking Moorish castle perched dizzily on the rocky heights of the Serra. ‘It was awful that I was the cause of a quarrelbetween them so soon before her death,’ faltered Carlota at length, still avoiding her companion’s gaze. ‘It was only a week later that she died. ’

‘So suddenly? Was it an accident?’

Turning at last, Carlota looked at her.

‘I don’t know, Eleanor.’ She seemed to be stiff and cold inside, and her pallor had increased. ‘She went away for a holiday, and my brother wascalled to her. When he came back he was like someone in a daze—and so harsh he had become, Eleanor! I never thought to see such a change inmy dear brother. He simply said that Dora was dead, and that I must never mention her name to him again. I concluded that it would be too painfulfor him to bear. He gave orders to the servants also—but of course, they must have discussed the matter among themselves. You see, it was all sovery puzzling, as Miguel would say nothing more than that she had died abroad, and been buried there—in Greece it was. She had friends on asmall island there, and you have to be buried within twenty-four hours of death. It’s the law because the climate’s so hot.’

Eleanor’s gaze had pensively settled on the chauffeur’s head again. How dreadful for the Conde to be forced to leave his beloved wife’s remains ina strange land. Here, close to the chapel, was the family vault; this was obviously where he would have preferred her to rest. Allowing her thoughtsto run on, Eleanor found her heart aching for him. So much to bear in so short a time—his wife’s death, and then his sister’s trouble. No wonder hewas frequently distant and withdrawn, so inclined to retreat within himself, becoming totally absorbed by his own secret reflections, which must inreality be memories of happier times. That his wife should take a holiday away from him, and that he should in turn visit his other estates and leaveher at the Palacio, were circumstances which Eleanor would not associate with a perfect marriage, her own visions being of a position whereneither husband nor wife could be happy away from the other. She supposed the lives of the nobility were different from those of the less exalted.There were duties to perform, both business and social, and so perhaps entire intimacy was impossible.

‘How long were they married?’ she inquired of Carlota at last, and was told that Dora and Miguel had celebrated their fifth wedding anniversary afortnight before Dora’s death. ‘Five years... and no children—’ Eleanor spoke to herself, her heart again going out to the Conde, for most certainly

he must have wanted an heir.

‘No children,’ repeated Carlota, shaking her head. ‘How I would have loved Miguel to have had a son. But none came,’ she added with a deepsigh, ‘it is something over which we have no control.’

For a long moment Eleanor thought about this wife of the Conde. He had loved her to distraction apparently, but, somehow, Eleanor formed apicture of her that was not altogether pleasant. Perhaps the reason for this was the woman’s dislike of Carlota, Eleanor told herself when trying tofind an explanation for this conclusion, for she herself had grown so fond of Dom Miguel’s sister that it seemed impossible that anyone else couldregard her with dislike. She was amicable and affectionate, and possessed of a charming naivete despite her recent unhappy experience.Automatically Eleanor shook her head. No, she could never imagine this

Dora not taking to her lovely young sister-in-law.

‘Did your brother know of Dora’s dislike of you?’ she asked, then looked apologetically at Carlota, realizing that she, Eleanor, was exhibiting acuriosity in the affairs of the Conde’s family which could almost amount to impertinence. After all, she was merely an employee, and as such sheshould remember her place. To her relief Carlota appeared not to notice as she smiled at Eleanor a little sadly and said,

‘I kept it from Miguel, hoping all the time that Dora would change towards me. I used to wonder if I were to blame—I was only ten and a halfwhen she came to the Palacio as a bride, and I think that perhaps a newly-wed girl does not want to be bothered with a kid sister.’

That was no explanation at all, decided Eleanor, but her awareness of her position did now prevent further questioning of Carlota. But she did say,

‘I was in the portrait gallery one day and noticed a space beside the portrait of your brother. He must have taken her death so to heart that he had itremoved. ’

‘That’s right, he did—immediately on his return from Greece. It was awful—’ Breaking off, Carlota shuddered, a spasm so violent passing throughher body that Eleanor actually felt it against her own arm. ‘He was like a madman, but oh, so quiet! He had a terrible expression on his face—itwas like murder, Eleanor, you have no idea. I cried and cried, but he took no notice of me. The order to remove the portrait must have set the staffwondering what had happened to their master, for he told Gregorio to throw it into the attic, where we put all the stuff which you in England calljunk. ’

‘In the attic?’ Eleanor stared unbelievingly at her companion. ‘How very strange.’ She had imagined the portrait to be in some special place,carefully packed, so that its beauty and perfection would be maintained until the day when Dom Miguel was able to have it replaced, where itbelonged, beside his own beautifully executed portrait, in the

gallery.

‘It was strange, Eleanor. I truly believe that for a time my brother was ill in his mind. People can be, you know, with shock.’ Eleanor merelynodded and Carlota went on, ‘He is much, much better now. I do not think anyone would really notice that he carries so deep a sorrow. Do youagree?’

‘Yes, Carlota, I do agree. But your brother is often silent and deeply thoughtful. I expect that at these times he is brooding on his loss.’

‘I have also come to that conclusion, because he never used to be silent—at least, not for such long periods. Often he gives me the impression thatalthough he remains with you and me—after dinner and at such times—he would in fact rather be alone.’ Absently Eleanor nodded, for she alsohad had the same impression. And yet, if Dom Miguel did wish to be alone there was nothing to prevent him from excusing himself and going offto his study or to one or other of the quiet apartments which were to be found in the great Palacio.

They were nearing the end of their journey and for the rest of it the two girls sat in silence, each occupied by her own thoughts. Eight months... Notlong at all, mused Eleanor; the wound had probably not even begun to heal. It would heal eventually, because time was effective in smoothingaway all pain, but it could take years and years. Again that weight pressed down upon Eleanor. She felt dejected and, for some quite unfathomablereason, inexpressibly defeated.

On their arrival at the Palacio some sort of commotion appeared to be going on at the far end of the hall. Blinking at her friend, Carlota stopped.

‘What an extraordinary noise! ’ The tone of voice, and the sudden haughty drawing up of herself, took Eleanor completely by surprise, as did thesharp command which although spoken in Portuguese was plainly understandable. In obedience to it the housekeeper appeared, her face red, her

whole demeanour one of meek apology. A question and answer followed, then another. Carlota’s manner was icily arrogant and the housekeeper’salmost cringing.

‘Chastising one of the maids here, in the main hall!’ Carlota turned to Eleanor as she spoke. ‘How dare she? The servants’ quarters is the place formaking a fuss—if she must make one! Were my brother here she would have been instantly dismissed; I have told her that!’ Another swing roundand within seconds of Carlota’s rapping out an order the woman was thankfully making her escape. ‘Storming at Julia,’ continued Carlota, clearlyroused by the woman’s conduct. ‘She says the girl keeps going off somewhere!’ Carlota had begun to walk towards the small cosy salon in whichshe and Eleanor usually took afternoon tea, and Eleanor fell into step beside her. Julia... The girl was always going off somewhere.

‘Carlota,’ said Eleanor impulsively, 'do you think that could have been Julia I saw in the woods this morning?’ ‘Please forgive me,’ beggedCarlota, calm now and faintly contrite. ‘I do not often lose my temper like that, but we never allow such behaviour from our servants. My brotherwould have made her tremble in her shoes.’

‘You didn’t do so badly yourself,’ commented Eleanor with a smile. ‘I was beginning to feel quite sorry for Ina.’

‘She was doing her duty, I suppose, but she knows better than to rave in the hall, where we can all hear her.’ She paused, dropping down hershoulder bag on to the couch. ‘The girl you saw this morning?’ Carlota shook her head. ‘Ina’s chastisement would be a little late, surely,’ sheremarked, and Eleanor had to agree. Nevertheless, as she unwrapped her purchases in her bedroom a few minutes later Eleanor could not rid hermind of the idea that the woman she had seen in the woods was in fact Julia. There could be some explanation for the belated chastisement, or thegirl could even have gone off again, later, as Ina had given Carlota to understand that Julia had gone off more than once.

Eleanor’s thoughts naturally switched to the coat, and Julia’s furtive behaviour, which was so reminiscent of the behaviour of the couple thismorning as they slipped so hastily into the copse on hearing Carlota’s call.

‘What on earth are you bothering your head about it for?’ Eleanor demanded of her reflection in the mirror. ‘Even if there is something funnygoing on it has nothing at all to do with you! ’

CHAPTER FIVE

As the time for Dom Miguel’s return drew near Eleanor became filled with the expectancy of something pleasant, and at last admitted to herselfthat his presence afforded her pleasure, even though he did for the most part remain aloof from her. In contrast to these occasions were those farless familiar ones when he would unbend sufficiently to chat with her, as on the evening when Carlota had left them together and gone to bedearly, or on the one or two instances when he had come upon Eleanor in the garden of an afternoon when Carlota had decided to take a siesta. DomMiguel would drop his cloak of withdrawal and superiority and Eleanor would find herself waiting for that most attractive smile, or a softening ofthose hard metallic eyes, or even the nonchalant gesture of a hand, all of which gave him a more human aspect and she would find herselfregarding him merely as Miguel, and not the grand and austere Conde Ramiro Vicente Miguel de Castro, noble owner of the Quinta de Castro andseveralsolaresand estates in other parts of the country. Carlota was also looking forward to his return, and the day before he was expected sheseemed to take on an added glow, her voice portraying her excitement as she said, after lunch when she and Eleanor were strolling in the groundsof the Palacio,

‘This time tomorrow my brother will be home! I find myself looking forward to his return with the same eagerness as when I didn’t have you forcompany. Isn’t it strange?’

‘Not at all,’ smiled Eleanor, turning to glance at her.

‘It’s just as it should be.’

‘But before—well, I was lonely. Now I am not at all lonely, just the reverse, since dear Miguel found me so charming a friend as you. ’

‘Thank you for saying that, Carlota. I know that even when I have left here you and I shall remain friends.’ When she left... Dom Miguel had onceexpressed the wish that she would make her home here permanently, but although he had said that because of his conviction that his sister wouldnever marry, Eleanor considered it very unlikely indeed that Carlota would remain single all her life. She was far too beautiful; men must admireher, and some day there would appear the one who would overlook that lapse, made when the girl was little more than a child. When that day cameEleanor would have to leave, as there would no longer be anything for which she would have to stay.

‘When you have left?’ Carlota stopped dead in her tracks. ‘You will never leave me, Eleanor! Say you won’t. Promise!’ Eleanor had to stop; shelooked affectionately at Carlota, who had actually lost a little of her colour, and whose small hand was pressed to her heart.

‘I shan’t leave until the day arrives when you will no longer need me,’ she promised seriously.

‘I shall always need you.’ Carlota’s eyes darkened with puzzlement. ‘Why should you think the day might come when I shan’t need you?’

Eleanor hesitated, unable, naturally, to voice her thoughts about marriage.

‘You’ll grow up, Carlota,’ she reminded her gently at last, ‘and then you won’t need me around all the time.’

‘It isn’t that,’ returned Carlota, suddenly perceptive. ‘You think that one day I shall marry.’ A certain flatness entered the voice that only secondsago had vibrated with excitement as Carlota spoke of her brother’s homecoming. ‘I shall never marry now—’ No, please do not interrupt, Eleanor,because I want to make my position clear to you, and then we will not talk any more about your leaving me. Here in Portugal, as in some othercountries, we attach great importance to chastity. No man will ever ask my brother’s consent to marry me now.’ She turned her dark head away,and rested a brooding gaze on a tiny waterfall, artificially constructed like others of its kind, in the delightful meandering stream that danced itsway about the garden and the park before emerging into adjoining land and finally merging with the River Tagus which carried its waters to the seaat Lisbon.

‘I see no reason why you should be so sure you’ll never marry,’ said Eleanor gently, surprised that neither Carlota nor she felt any realembarrassment at this conversation. This in itself was evidence of the strength of the friendship that had grown up between them, despite thedifference in their ages. ‘You’re very lovely, Carlota, and one day you’re going to steal some lucky man’s heart. It’s inevitable.’

Already Carlota was shaking her head, emphatically.

‘He would have to be told—and that would be the end.’

‘No, dear, it would not. If he loved you then he would understand, and overlook something which happened when you were so very young andinnocent—and unprotected.’ Carlota turned, her face pale and her lips quivering. ‘You make it sound as if it wasn’t entirely my fault.’

‘In my opinion it wasn’t.’

‘How generous you are! But no one here would see it in that light. ’

‘Some day they will, Carlota—at least, one very special person will, and he is the one who really matters.’

A long silence fell between the two girls after that and they strolled leisurely from the gardens into the park, Eleanor’s mind straying to the furtivebehaviour of the couple last Sunday. As they reached the copse where the couple had hidden themselves Eleanor glanced down; somethingsparkled in the long grass and on picking it up she saw that it was a diamante clip. At least she believed it to be diamante until Carlota, exclaimingon seeing it in her friend’s palm, said it had belonged to her sister-in-law.

‘To Dora?’ Eleanor stared puzzledly at her. ‘These stones are real?’ They must be worth a small fortune, she thought, looking fascinatedly at it.

‘Of course they are.’ Taking it into her own hand, Carlota stared at it with the same perplexity as Eleanor. ‘How very strange that it should be here.Dora must have dropped it at some time or another—’ The girl broke off, shuddering. ‘It’s ... spooky, Eleanor. Here, take it!’ The clip was pressedinto Eleanor’s hand whether she wanted it or not. ‘Put it back,’ advised Carlota in a rather frightened voice. ‘I do not like to handle it, Eleanor!’

‘Nonsense! Indeed it must not be put back. We will put it in some safe place—perhaps you will put it into her room?’

‘No, I will not! I never go in there,’ began Carlota, then broke off, trying to collect herself because now she was conscious of the strangeexpression with which her companion looked at her. ‘It—it is not a—happy room,’ she whispered after a while. ‘I went into it only once, and itseemed—seemed so full, still, of my sister-in-law’s presence. I had the unpleasant impression that my brother goes in there often, at night,and—and— sort of communes with—with her spirit. ’

Involuntarily Eleanor shuddered. But within seconds she had recovered and was telling Carlota not to be fanciful, remembering that she herself hadbeen into the room and had not noticed anything spooky about it. She had admired it, in fact, and would have liked to stay longer, had she hadsome legitimate reason for being there. Nevertheless, she decided, frowning now in thought, she would not like to occupy such a room. It was toocold, a room lacking happy associations— Abruptly Eleanor checked her musings, remembering that it had been the room in which Dom Miguelmust have been more than happy, many, many times. And now ... did he, as Carlota suggested, go in there often, at night, so as to be with Dora, inspirit? Eleanor had told Carlota not to be fanciful, but her suggestion was not beyond the bounds of possibility even though something withinEleanor protested vigorously against the idea. It would be unhealthy, and totally uncharacteristic of Dom Miguel as she knew him. A man with his

strong personality would surely fight his sorrow, not succumb to it. Carlota was speaking, breaking into Eleanor’s thoughts and Eleanor turned,grateful for the interruption, for such reflections were not pleasant.

‘What are you going to do with it, Eleanor? You can’t give it to Miguel; it will only make him unhappy to see it, for it was a birthday gift from himto Dora.’

‘I’ll find a place for it, Carlota. Perhaps, with your permission, I could go into Dora’s room and put it safely in a drawer, or a box?’ Eleanor knewthere was a jewel box on the dressing-table and she decided to place the clip in there, Julia—The name rose to the edge of Eleanor’s lips, for shewas seeing her even yet again, carrying away the coat. She wondered if she were right in suspecting that it was Julia she had seen, almost at thisvery spot, on Sunday morning. It was a wonder that one or other of the couple, whoever they were, had not seen the clip, lying there in the grass.But it suddenly struck Eleanor that as they had entered hurriedly, and would in all probability be concentrating on peering through the trees inorder to ascertain whether or not it was safe for them to come out, the clip could quite easily have escaped their notice.

‘Of course you have my permission,’ Carlota was saying. ‘Yes, it is a good idea of yours to put the clip in Dora’s room, for all her other things arethere—just as she left them when she went away for her holiday. ’

All her other things... All except the mink coat...

Immediately on Dom Miguel’s return the projected holiday was discussed and it was decided that they all go up to Miguel’squintain the Minhodistrict of the far north of Portugal.

‘You will rest, though?’ said Carlota, eyeing her brother a trifle doubtfully. ‘You know, dear Miguel, that when we ever go to one of your estatesyou invariably spend some of the time working. ’

He smiled at her. They were sitting in the crimson and white small salon, waiting for afternoon tea to be served, and Miguel was leaning back inhis big armchair, looking more bronzed than ever and also appearing to be more relaxed than Eleanor had ever seen him.

‘But then, my dear, I have gone specifically to do some

work. This time I’m going for a break from work.’

‘That is good! And we’ll be there for thefestalShe turned to Eleanor. ‘You’ll love it,’ she stated enthusiastically. ‘It takes place in the city of Vianodo Castelo, and everyone crowds into the city because it is the gayest fair in the north. The women wear traditional costumes—that is, skirts withblack stripes and aprons beautifully embroidered with hearts and flowers and birds. And the boleros are ornamented with gold and silver filigree,and of course, there are the beautiful fringed shawls of the brightest colours imaginable.’ She carried on enthusing and after a while the Conde’seyes caught those of Eleanor and he smiled and shook his head, and Eleanor chided herself for allowing her pulse to race in this extraordinary way.But there was no doubt about it, Dom Miguel’s personality was beginning to affect her in the most disturbing manner, and mingling with thepleasure derived from his company was a sort of nerve-twisting tension which amounted almost to fear. The sensation was vague but mostcertainly tangible, and Eleanor did admit to her consciousness the possibility of her sustaining a hurt which would not easily be erased.

But this idea could not mar her pleasurable expectancy and excitement when, after two hectic days of shopping and preparation, she found herselfin the big car with its shining crest, being driven by an immaculately-uniformed chauffeur, out of the Palacio grounds and presently on to the coastroad. On first being told she was to accompany the Conde and his sister she had not given much thought to clothes, surmising she would be in asimilar position to that in which she was at the Palacio. But Dom Miguel had told her that she would be going with them when he and Carlotavisited, and she would also dine with them when they entertained. Thus the reason for the shopping spree, which was done in Lisbon, whereEleanor spent practically all of what she had earned since coming to Portugal. She had bought three cocktail dresses and a couple of chic daydresses, besides an expensive trouser suit and several blouses and skirts. She considered she was packing far too many clothes; Carlota, cominginto her room during this operation, looked at her and said,

‘Is this all you’re taking?’

‘It’s only for a week,’ pointed out Eleanor with a smile.

‘Of course,’ grinned Carlota, but added, ‘I love changing all the time, as you know, so I do have rather more to take than you. ’

Eleanor laughed, visualizing Carlota’s taking at least three huge suitcases filled with clothes.

As the journey would cover over two hundred miles they naturally stopped for lunch. This was taken at the Grande Hotel at Figuerra da Foz, wherethey ate delicious local specialities and drank wine made in the district to which they were going—the Minho.

As they came from the hotel to the car Eleanor looked up and said shyly,

‘Thank you, Dom Miguel, for that very excellent lunch.’

He had been looking ahead to the sea, but at her words he turned and sent her a slanting, downward glance, his grey eyes wandering fleetingly overher lovely features, taking in the strong character lines, the clear, transparent skin which revealed the blue veins at her temples. Her fair hair,shoulder-length and curling up at the ends, shone like a shower of pure gold and her eyes, wide and frank as they stared into his, held a light whichcaused his own eyes to flicker oddly and he seemed to hesitate a long while as if turning something over in his mind. Swiftly Eleanor glanceddown, swallowing hard to release an unfamiliar blockage of emotion in her throat. With a little stab of wonderment she realized that every vestigeof hauteur had disappeared from Dom Miguel’s face.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, Eleanor,’ he said at last in that deeply-accented tone which she always found so enormously attractive. ‘But do not thankme,’ he went on to add with a totally unexpected hint of amusement. ‘You are entitled to your bed and board, you know.’

Rosy colour touched her cheeks, not at this latter statement, but at thedirectuse of her name, for the very first time. Carlota, she noticed out of thecorner of her eye, had given a small start of surprise, and she was now looking at her brother with the most odd expression. But naturally she madeno comment, and in any case, they had reached the car and Gregorio was holding open the door for them to enter the rear seat.

A silence reigned for a while after they had started off again, but, sensing her embarrassment, Dom Miguel began to talk, in a casual vein, and forthe next few minutes Eleanor was learning something about hisquintaset amid picturesque hills high above the coast. He grew olives and the vine,this latter producing the light, palate-prickling wine known as Vinho Verde.

‘It’s a pity we shan’t be there for the vintage,’ interrupted Carlota, turning from her contemplation of the scenery. ‘Eleanor would have enjoyedthat.’

‘Perhaps we shall come up again, later. The vintage begins in October,’ he added for Eleanor’s benefit.

‘We’ll come up again?’ from Carlota. ‘Nice! I rather like the Solare de Calvares because it’s so small and unpretentious after the Palacio. Not that Ilike it better,’ she went on to add as her brother lifted his brow. ‘It’s just that it’s different. It’s a complete change from the Palacio.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed after a moment’s consideration, ‘it’s a complete change, and a rather pleasant one. You see,’ he said, turning to Eleanor who wassitting between him and Carlota, ‘asolareis peculiar to the north of our country; it’s a manor house but not so palatial or imposing as your Englishmanor houses.’

‘You wouldn’t find asolarein the south?’ she said, fascinated by this.

‘No; as I said, it’s peculiar to the north of Portugal. Also,’ he added, ‘most of our traditions are in the north.’

‘I believe all the wine festivals originated in the north also?’

‘There are a great many festivals occurring in the north, yes. But actually we have no wine festivals as such.’

‘You don’t?’ Eleanor stared at him in some surprise. ‘There’s always lots of fun at the vintage,’ he told her, ‘and everyone joins in, but, as I said,there are no actual wine festivals. We do have many festivals, though, make no mistake about that,’ he added swiftly on noting her ratherdisappointed expression. ‘We’re a gay, lighthearted people, in the main, who love to make a happy social occasion of anything to do with theharvesting of crops, and by that I mean any crops, not just the grapes.’

‘Yes,’ supplemented Carlota, 'every farm has a party at harvest time.’

‘And of course you have many religious festivals?’

‘Yes, Eleanor, we do have many of those—all over the country. ’

For a little while after that the three fell silent and Eleanor allowed herself the luxury of a full and leisurely appreciation of the scenery. When theypassed through villages she would admire the attractive simplicity of the cottages, their walls and small verandahs spilling with colour, their

inhabitants smiling and waving as the car passed. Nearer the coast, the scene was vastly different, with high cliffs pounded by the breakers rollingin from the Atlantic, or gentle golden beaches crowded with holidaymakers. Sometimes the long stretches of sand would have a lonely forbiddingaspect, with just a few fishermen’s huts dotted about here and there. Towns were different too; some being sombre and uninteresting while others,set back from glittering bays and backed by soaring mountains dark with oaks and pines, would have a picture postcard enchantment which left

Eleanor with a fleeting sense of regret once they were left behind.

‘We haven’t far to go now,’ Carlota was saying as the sun began its descent towards the horizon. ‘Are you tired, Eleanor?’

‘Indeed no; I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the drive.’ Her eyes met those grey ones opposite to her and she smiled. Responding, Dom Miguel held hergaze for a few seconds before turning his head to glance through the window. Eleanor was musing on the incident which had occurred when theystopped at a small wayside cafe for tea. On rising, she had somehow managed to twist her ankle and to her dismay had fallen against the arm of theConde. Instantly he had steadied her, and even now she could not decide whether or not he had inclined his head, as if to breathe in the perfume ofher hair, which she knew was delightful, as she had remarked about the shampoo to the hairdresser. It was a new one, she had been told, perfumedwith something very special from France. Although Eleanor had had her hair done the previous afternoon, the perfume had lingered, just as thehairdresser promised it would.

He hadnotinclined his head, she at last decided. Such an action could not be reconciled with a man secretly mourning his beloved wife...

The first evening and the following day at thesolarewere spent in leisurely fashion—sunbathing on the lawn, swimming in the heated pool, andeating the delicious food put before them by Maria Viegas, Dom Miguel’s cook-housekeeper who with her husband and two daughters ran thehouse in the most efficient way. Two gardeners looked after the gardens and Jos£ the handyman was there to attend to any odd jobs which mightoccur from time to time.

Ana, one of Maria’s daughters, was sent by her mother to attend Eleanor on the second evening and she entered the room timidly when Eleanorcalled ‘come in’ in answer to her

knock.

‘My mother says that Dom Miguel gives a very special dinner for his friends this evening,’ she began in nervous tones, ‘and she sent my sister andme to help you and Dona Carlota to dress.’ She spoke English with difficulty, but it was easily understood nevertheless. Eleanor stood lookinguncertainly at her, preferring to manage on her own but at the same time unwilling to decline the girl’s help. It would be a snub both to mother anddaughter, she decided, and resignedly thanked Ana and asked her to run the bath water for her.

‘Your white dress,senhorita^exclaimed Ana a short while later as she took it from the wardrobe, ‘it is beautiful!’

‘Thank you, Ana.’ Eleanor gave her a smile, glad already that she had accepted Ana’s help, for she had not given herself the time she should havedone for the preparation for so special a dinner as the Conde was giving. Tomorrow evening they were to dine with the Visconde Teixeira GoncaloSanches de Cavaleiro and his family at a dinner party at his house, the Solare de Lucena, a lovely mansion set amid magnificent grounds whichreached down to the banks of the Lima River. Carlota had blushed on hearing of the invitation sent to them by the Visconde and immediately theywere alone she had said to Eleanor,

‘Sanches is the handsomest man I know. And he is very kind and gentle. You will like him very much, Eleanor.’

‘The Visconde, you mean?’

‘That’s right.’ Carlota had looked down at her feet for a long moment and then, right out of the blue, ‘I have an idea that he knows about mybaby... ’

A long and awkward silence had followed this, for Eleanor had no idea what to say. It struck her as most significant that Carlota should rank theVisconde’s looks above those of her brother, because Eleanor could not visualize anyone more handsome than Dom Miguel who, she hadpreviously decided, was possessed of just about everything that nature could bestow on any man.

‘Is—is it important?’ Eleanor had asked at length, unable to find anything else to say.

‘Not really, but I feel I shall be embarrassed when I meet him.’

‘What makes you think he knows about—about the child?’ ‘Just instinct, Eleanor,’ Carlota admitted after a small moment of thought. ‘I went

away, as you know, in the early stages, and of course I haven’t seen Sanches since my return. But I remember, when he dined with us, and Miguelsaid I was going to the country to rest, Sanches looked so strangely at me and said, “You’ll be gone for some months?” Don’t you think that was avery odd thing to say?’

‘It was,’ Eleanor responded grimly, going on to say that, if Sanches had guessed at the reason for the projected sojourn in the country, then it wasalso a most undiplomatic thing to say.

‘It struck me at the time that it came out without his thinking, and that he would have taken it back if he could. My brother didn’t appear to noticethe remark because his attention had been diverted by someone else drawing him into their conversation. ’

It was on the tip of Eleanor’s tongue to ask where Lourenco was now, but she refrained, sure that the mention of the baby’s father would onlyembarrass Carlota even though she herself had broached the subject of the child. But although Eleanor did not know it at the time, she was verysoon to learn more about Lourenco ... and about Dora Amelia Paula de Castro, the Conde’s beautiful wife.

The dinner was served in the high-ceilinged, ornately-decorated dining-room. At the oval table Carlota sat on her brother’s right and Eleanor on hisleft. Next to her was Sanches—handsome, Eleanor owned, but in a more gentle, subdued way than his host. Next to Sanches sat his sister, Inez,whose husband was sitting opposite, next to Clara, wife of Dom Andre Garcia, whosequintawas separated from that of Dom Miguel by the watersof the River Lima. Sanches’ cousin and his other sister had been invited but had accepted a previous invitation. So there were four couples—a niceeasy and pleasant number for her first important dinner-party, thought Eleanor, feeling happy because of her lovely dress and because the Condehad thought fit to remark with well-bred gallantry on her appearance. Other eyes had noted her, especially those of Sanches who during the pre-dinner drinks had politely asked her about her position as companion to Carlota. He had seemed shy at first, but later, he was quite at ease in hercompany, while she herself was equally at ease in his. She liked him enormously; he had a frank expression and a full generous mouth. He wasfair, as many people were who came from the north of the country, and his deep blue eyes had a softness about them seldom seen in those of hishost. He seemed inordinately happy at finding himself sitting next to Eleanor, and began chatting with her almost at once.

‘It will be a pleasure to have you as my guest tomorrow evening,senhorita,’ he was saying when, smiling, Eleanor caught the Conde’s eye. Hesmiled at her, but she had the rather disturbing impression that, inwardly, he frowned. ‘Do you mind if I call you Eleanor?’

‘Wh-what?’ Eleanor blinked at the Visconde apologetically.

‘I asked if I might call you Eleanor?’

‘Of course.’

‘And do please call me Sanches; all my friends do. I dislike intensely Teixeira.’ There was an eagerness about him that added to his appeal andEleanor’s thoughts went to Carlota, and what she had unconsciously revealed about her feelings for him. It would be wonderful, Eleanor thought, ifthe Visconde could reciprocate, for there was no doubt at all in Eleanor’s mind that the young couple would be well matched.

Dom Miguel spoke to Eleanor, diverting her thoughts.

‘Is there something wrong with youracepipes,Eleanor? You’re not eating very much.’

‘I’m too busy talking,’ she laughed, and picked up her fork. Out of any conversation now, she glanced appreciatively at the table. The china wasSevres, the cutlery was silver. Tiny, individual flower arrangements were set before each guest, in crystal cups to match the wine-glasses. TwoMeissen bowls were filled with red and yellow roses, the heraldic colours of the Castros. Gold-plated candelabra held numerous long candles,whose light supplemented the concealed lighting from above. The guests were all superbly dressed, the chatter gay and light, with much laughteras an accompaniment. Suddenly Eleanor wondered how she came to be here, mixing with so exalted a company. It had been luck and nothing morethat had thrown her into the path of the Conde—one of those million-to-one chances which, when they occur, inevitably change the lives of thoseconcerned. She couldn’t help thinking of the school she was to have gone to in September ... and whose headmaster was to be Terry Kershawe...

‘That’s better,’ murmured Dom Miguel, his manner now one of grave courtesy as he glanced at Eleanor’s plate. ‘I had begun to think there wassomething not to your liking.’

She glanced swiftly at him, flushing delicately as she noted by his expression that he was actually teasing her, for despite his gravity there was atwinkle in his eye. She thought of Dora, his late wife, and wondered if, beneath this apparently untroubled exterior, Dom Miguel were acutelyconscious of her absence.

When the meal was over they took coffee in the crimson drawing-room whose wide high windows were thrown open to allow the cool night air toenter. Eleanor found herself beside Sanches again as he had taken possession of the vacant place beside her on the deep velvet sofa.

‘Eleanor,’ he began a little diffidently as he stirred his coffee which was beside him on a small table, ‘I like you very much and I feel I’ve knownyou far longer than a few hours.’ He stopped and, placing his spoon in the saucer, he lifted his cup to his lips. Eleanor had stiffened at his words,wondering what was to come next from the handsome young Visconde. It was a long time before he spoke, and when he did Eleanor went tenseand instinctively flashed a glance at Dom Miguel, who was engaged in conversation with Clara and Andre Garcia. ‘I feel you’re to be trusted ...Eleanor, can I talk to you about Carlota?’

‘It just depends, Sanches,’ she murmured guardedly after a pause.

‘I’ll begin by saying that I’ve approached Miguel—a few weeks ago—asking if I might come to the Palacio and pay court to his sister, but herefused. You might suppose that this would be an insult to a man in my position, but, with some knowledge I have, I could understand hisreluctance to have a suitor for Carlota, and therefore I could also forgive him and not take offence.’ On beginning to speak Sanches had beenhesitant, but, having once managed to get the first few words out, he seemed to have gained some measure of confidence.

‘This knowledge?’ said Eleanor, fully aware of what it was, especially in the light of what Carlota herself had put forth earlier about her suspicionthat the Visconde knew about her having had a child. In the ordinary way Eleanor would have avoided any conversation on the subject, not onlyowing to her position of employee in the Castro household, but also because she considered it disloyal, in a way, to her employer. But Carlota hadsaid something from which Eleanor inferred that the girl was attracted to Sanches; and now it was clear that Sanches was more than attracted toCarlota. He obviously wanted to marry her. Under these circumstances Eleanor could not bring herself to hold herself aloof.

‘This knowledge...’ slowly repeated the young Visconde, glancing all around as if he would make absolutely sure no one was within hearingdistance. ‘You met Carlota and her brother in London, I believe? This is what Miguel said. He and Carlota were on—holiday. ’

‘I did meet them in London, yes, Sanches.’ She was guarded still; Sanches must make the first move.

‘It is difficult for me to imagine your meeting anyone like Miguel—’ He stopped, dismayed, then added hastily, ‘I am not suggesting, Eleanor—’

‘Don’t worry,’ she cut in mercifully on noting his heightened colour. ‘As you are suggesting, our positions are so vastly different that it was highlyimprobable we would meet in ordinary circumstances.’

‘I believe,’ said the Visconde with full perception, ‘that you have the same knowledge about Carlota as I have. I felt this was so the minute I spoketo you, although as soon as I knew that Miguel had brought back with him a girl from England, I did feel that this girl was in his confidence.Would you tell me how you met Miguel?’

‘I was working in the hotel in which he was staying,’ she replied, and saw at once that Sanches was taken aback.

‘I thought you might be a nurse,’ he murmured, biting his lip. But after a frowning silence he glanced straight at her. ‘You do have this knowledge,Eleanor, for otherwise you would have evinced much more curiosity than you are doing.’ ‘Sanches,’ said Eleanor gently, her eyes wandering towhere her employer was sitting comfortably in a large armchair, his profile towards her, ‘if you wish to inform me of this knowledge then do so.’

‘I’m sorry. I should not have suggested that you speak first. I deeply admire your restraint, Eleanor, and your loyalty. But the fact of your notputting a stop to this talk of mine fills me with confidence that you would not be unwilling to help me in my endeavour to win Carlota for mywife.’

‘You definitely want to marry her?’

‘There is nothing on earth I want more,’ he answered fervently. Eleanor said nothing; she was waiting for his response to words she had spokenearlier and he began to tell her that, when Miguel had said he was taking Carlota to her aunt, he had suspected that it was in order to conceal somedisgrace. When Eleanor interrupted to ask why he should have reached a conclusion like this he said, a spasm of pain vibrating through his words,‘It was due to something Miguel’s wife said— But I must tell you the rest first; this other will come in its place.’ Eleanor leant back as hecontinued to speak, amazed at the complete lack of restraint between the Visconde and herself. As he said, it was as if they had known each otherfar longer than a mere three hours or so. She listened intently, and heard how, having decided on the reason for Carlota’s being taken away, hewaited to see what would happen and when Miguel let it be known among his friends and acquaintances that he was taking his sister to London fora holiday he immediately guessed that she was to enter a nursing home there. ‘The time was about right, you see,’ he added, colouring again.‘When I heard about you, I knew your role was in the nature of protectress—a role grossly neglected by Miguel’s late wife,’ he added bitterly, his

eyes blazing for a second before shadowing again. ‘I somehow concluded that you were a nurse at this hospital, and that it was because you werein the secret that Miguel had decided to offer you the post of companion to Carlota. ’

‘I was in the secret.’ She went on to tell him how this came to be, continuing by explaining just sufficient to put him in the picture. He then asked,with a difficulty that could only be described as painful,

‘What happened to the baby? Was it adopted?’

‘It died, Sanches,’ replied Eleanor quietly, and then, after a long pause, ‘You’re willing to overlook this, apparently?’

‘I love Carlota dearly. Also, I know for sure that this wasn’t her fault. She was a mere child, Eleanor—she still is, and still innocent in my eyes.’He glanced up on noticing that Miguel and Inez had gone over to the piano. ‘I expect we are to dance. They are looking for my sister’sfavouritefado.’ He continued after this interruption, going on to tell Eleanor how he and Carlota used to see a good deal of each other becauseMiguel came up here more often, with his wife. He knew Carlota liked him and hoped that when she was older she would fall in love with him. ‘Ishould have approached her brother sooner,’ he added with deep regret. ‘But she was always so very young for her age and at fifteen she was still alittle girl. Miguel had to go away, naturally, as he has otherquintas,but he thought that Dora was taking care of Carlota. Instead, she was—’Sanches stopped and a frown clouded his brow. ‘Dora did not do her duty,’ he said after what was clearly an interlude of word re-phrasing. ‘It wasshe who introduced Carlota to Lourenco, a good-for-nothing who, I am fully convinced, received a very large sum of money from Miguel toinduce him to leave Portugal and go to live in the south of France. It is my belief also that he still receives money regularly from Miguel, and willcontinue to do so.’

‘Miguel had to buy his silence?’

‘That is so. The man’s a scamp. He was employed by Dora’s father—now deceased—and that’s how Dora got to know him. It was a strangerelationship—’ Again Sanches pulled himself up, but he seemed unrepentant at having put suspicions of the nastiest kind into his listener’s mind.

‘You said that it was Dora who gave you the idea that— that all was not well with Carlota?’ Aware now of the most concentrated and frowningregard of Dom Miguel, who was still by the piano but had left the searching through of the music to Inez, Eleanor felt she ought to bring thisconversation with Sanches to an end. He and she had been speaking so quietly, their heads together at times, that it suddenly occurred to her thatthe Conde might not be pleased.

‘She saw one day that I was in love with Carlota, because I was scowling when I noticed her go off walking with this

Lourenco, and, laughing in a way she had, Dora said, “Poor Sanches! Better forget her, though. You wouldn’t want her now—neither you noranyone else! ” And the way she looked—’ Sanches’ brow became damp and he brushed a hand across it, then brought out a handkerchief anddabbed it for a second or two before continuing, ‘Iknew,Eleanor, by the way Dora looked! She hated Carlota, but was always so very careful not tolet her husband know this.’

Hated... How could anyone hate the lovely child who, even now, seemed to be possessed of a virginal innocence and charm that was accentuatedby the dress she wore? Of billowing layers of lilac tulle, it seemed to guard her curves even while allowing them to be sedately revealed. Sancheswas speaking again despite the intruding strains of the Fado of the Mansos which Inez was now playing.

‘You will help me, Eleanor? But yes, I know you will.’

A lingering silence ensued; for Eleanor it was the hesitation of necessity, not of doubt, since there was no question of her refusing to help Sanches.But what of her own position once Carlota was married? Dom Miguel had expressed the hope that she would make her home with him and Carlotapermanently, but that was when he had been convinced that his sister would never marry. The situation was now changed, and Eleanor acceptedthe fact that she would have to leave and return to England. Leave—Her eyes sought the aristocratic figure of the Conde, and a sudden tightnesscaught at her throat, painful and persistent no matter how hard she swallowed to remove it. Never to see him again. Somehow it seemed quiteimpossible that this should be so— and yet it could not possibly be otherwise. She and Carlota would correspond, but Eleanor couldn’t foresee anyvisits taking place between them. Her lip quivered quite unconsciously and she noticed the slight frown that creased her employer’s brow. He waspuzzled, she could tell, as his eyes moved from her to the man sitting beside her on the

couch.

‘I should like to help you,’ she told the Visconde at last, but added that at present she could see no way in which this could be done. ‘I’ll thinkabout it carefully,’ she promised, ‘and I’m sure something will present itself to me.’

He smiled then, and the shadows left his face.

‘You’re kind, and you shall have my everlasting gratitude if you do help us—’ He glanced up, into the face of his host who was looking at himwith a very odd expression.

‘Would you dance with me, Eleanor?’ Dom Miguel spoke with quiet courtesy, but there was a glint in his grey eyes which sent a tingle ofapprehension running along Eleanor’s spine. Had he guessed at their conversation? she wondered. But no ... he would assume that Sanches wouldkeep his own counsel—and in any case, as he had been refused his request to court Carlota it would seem most unlikely to Miguel that he wouldmention this to someone who in effect was a total stranger.

The Conde’s arms were open and within seconds Eleanor was whirled away into the centre of the room, carried by the long graceful strides of herpartner. Armchairs were moved and another couple got up—Clara and Andre Garcia, and then Sanches and Carlota. Eleanor watched them,unconsciously twisting her head to do so.

‘You appear to be excessively interested in Carlota ... and her partner.’ The smooth, accented voice was, to Eleanor’s ears, distinctly unfriendly,resulting in a sudden dejection descending on her despite the undeniable thrill she experienced by being in Dom Miguel’s arms.

‘The Visconde and I have been chatting,’ was all she could find to say.

‘So I observed,’ with a subtle pointedness which clearly invited Eleanor to supplement her brief statement. Should she reveal the whole story? No.Her rejection was instantaneous. She must find a more subtle way of helping the couple.

‘He is a most charming young man, though a little diffident,’ she vouchsafed at last, and although she kept her head averted she knew instinctivelythat her partner’s mouth had tightened. What was he thinking? Perhaps, she thought with a little gasp as the idea struck her, he was putting analtogether wrong interpretation on that little scene on the couch. But surely not! For one thing, the Visconde was a little younger than Eleanor, andfor another, he had given Dom Miguel to understand that he loved his sister. Eleanor’s eyes sought the couple again; Carlota had her head againstSanches’ shoulder and seemed unable to look up, into his eyes. He was talking, and she nodded several times but still refused to meet her partner’seyes.

‘So you found the Visconde charming?’ Dom Miguel’s voice broke into Eleanor’s reflections and she raised her head. His gaze was following thecouple, but suddenly he shot his partner a swift all-examining glance. ‘Many young girls have found him attractive, I believe.’ Stiff the tone andedged with something indefinable yet disturbing. It was almost as if he resented Eleanor’s pronouncement that the Visconde was charming.

‘I expect many girls have found him charming,’ agreed Eleanor in her quiet, pleasantly-modulated voice. ‘But the Visconde himself... ? Does hebother very much with these girls?’ Her inquiry was made in faintly breathless tones; she failed to seize the fact that this could quite easily bemisconstrued.

‘As I don’t visit myquintahere very often,’ replied the Conde in cool dispassionate tones, ‘I am not in a position to say.’

Completely discouraged by his manner, Eleanor fell silent, following where her tall distinguished partner led, and because in her sudden dejectionshe kept her eyes on the lapel of his jacket, she failed to notice the interest of the other couples in the room. Even Sanches was saying what an

arresting spectacle they made, Carlota was to tell Eleanor later.

The piano stopped and the waltz ended. Dom Miguel dropped his hands but stood for a second or two looking into Eleanor’s face, his own featuresan unreadable mask. But quite unexpectedly a reluctant smile broke; it found an instant response in the gentle curving of Eleanor’s lips ... and asthis smile fluttered she saw the muscles contract at the side of his jaw. He seemed quite unable to take his eyes off her, and quite oblivious ofeveryone else in the room. It was a hushed, profound interlude, fleeting yet leaving something so endurable that its memory was to remain withEleanor for the rest of her life.

For during those few seconds there came to her that which she no longer could deny... The admission that she was irrevocably in love with herexalted employer.

CHAPTER SIX

Inevitably the conversation between her and Sanches occupied Eleanor’s mind for a long time after it had taken place. In fact, it kept her awake farinto the night, her thoughts occupied first by one revelation the Visconde had made and then by another. At one moment she would have on hermind only the problem of Sanches and Carlota, and she would understand how Dom Miguel felt, and why he had dismissed the young nobleman’sappeal. He had gone to a great deal of trouble to keep secret his sister’s misconduct and his pride would not allow of a situation where he would beforced to make a confession of Carlota’s guilt. This attitude was taken merely owing to the assumption that the secret was confined to three people:himself, Carlota, and Eleanor—apart from the aunt with whom Carlota had stayed, and who did not count, as she lived the life of a recluse andspoke to no one. Had Dom Miguel known that Sanches was also in the secret, and was willing to marry Carlota in spite of her having had the child,

then obviously there would be no problem at all. As this had occurred to Eleanor before the break-up of the dinner-party, she had sought outSanches and suggested that he write to Dom Miguel mentioning, very tactfully, that he was aware there might be a good reason for the Conde’srefusing to allow his suit, but that he dearly loved Carlota and whatever had happened in the past was of no interest to him.

‘It’s simple after all,’ she had added, feeling happy at her swift discovery of a solution to the problem.

‘It seems simple,’ he had replied. ‘But you see, Eleanor, Miguel will insist on knowing how I learned about Carlota. He worshipped his wife; hedeeply mourns her loss and cherishes her memory. I cannot tell him that she laughed in my face and as good as told me that Carlota was expectinga child by the rogue Lourenco, that she told me to forget about Carlota because neither I nor anyone else would want her now.’ Sanches shook hishead. ‘I had already thought of this writing of a letter to Miguel, but dismissed the idea immediately. ’

Eleanor frowned, owning that there was much in what Sanches said, but reminding him that Miguel must have been aware of his wife’sshortcomings regarding the protecting of Carlota. Eleanor knew without doubt that this was so, as Carlota had spoken of the quarrel between herbrother and his wife, but naturally Eleanor refrained from disclosing her knowledge to Sanches.

‘He did realize that Dora had failed in her duty— there was proof of it—and I expect, knowing Miguel, that Dora would be in real trouble for atime. But even such serious lapses cannot kill love, and when his wife died he would forget anyway, and forgive. One does not speak ill of thedead, Eleanor, especially to the grief-stricken husband of the dead person. No, I cannot spoil his memories.’

‘You really believe he’s grief-stricken?’ What was she desiring in his reply? Eleanor had asked herself. And yet she knew—knew that she wantedSanches to say the grief might be fading, that Miguel might by now be getting over his wife’s death. But this was not so; the fact that he could notbear the sight of Dora’s portrait proved that the wound was

still wide open.

‘He manages to hide his feelings very well, because dignity would not allow for anything else. But it is a known fact that he worshipped his wife. Itcouldn’t be otherwise, as she was the most beautiful woman any of us had ever seen. She hated Carlota for her youth—certainly not her beauty,lovely as Carlota is. Dora was thirty-five, you see, a year younger than Miguel.’

So that was that. The problem loomed as large as ever; Eleanor pondered over it, trying to find a solution, but gradually the image of the Conde’swife intruded, insistent, overlapping and finally eclipsing the main problem as in the darkness the character of the woman unfolded itself intosomething distinctly objectionable. Sanches had hinted at infidelity ... at a ‘strange relationship’ with one of her late father’s employees. This manshe had introduced to an innocent child of fifteen, then left the pair in each other’s company even though she knew her husband was trusting her totake care of Carlota. And when tragedy had overtaken Carlota she had laughed on hinting about it to the man who, she knew, was in love with thegirl—the Visconde Teixeira Goncalo Sanches de Cavaleiro, eminently suited to be the husband of a girl with Carlota’s exalted connections. Shehad been jealous of the girl’s youth.

It was abundantly clear that the woman had been totally unworthy of a man like Dom Miguel—unworthy both of his position and his love. Itseemed inconceivable that hecouldlove her, for surely he must over and over again have had illustrations of her real character, no matter howcleverly she might often hide it. Carlota had kept from him the fact of her sister-in-law’s dislike, so perhaps Dora had in fact managed to keep hertrue character successfully hidden from him.

‘She must have done,’ whispered Eleanor to herself, drowsy and yet unable to catch the thread of sleep, ‘for otherwise he could not possibly haveloved her to distraction, as appears to have been the case.’

It was almost dawn before she slept ... and the final image to remain with her was not that of any of the people who had kept her awake. It was that

of her employer, standing in the centre of the drawing-room, looking down at her with that unfathomable expression, his jaw muscles contracting,his entire attention with her so that he seemed unaware of anyone else in the room.

Carlota was having her breakfast in bed, Dom Miguel told Eleanor when she entered the room in which the meal was being served.

‘She sent word down—lazy child! But you...?’ He suddenly noticed the shadows under Eleanor’s eyes. ‘Haven’t you slept?’ he added anxiously.

She shook her head, taking up her napkin and unfolding it.

‘I expect it was the excitement of the evening,’ she said, managing a thin smile. ‘It was wonderful.’

His eyes kindled strangely.

‘The excitement kept you awake? Thoughts are what usually keep people awake.’

She flushed a little.

‘Yes, it was thoughts. They—they were troublesome—’ She stopped, darting him a glance. Why on earth had she said a thing like that?

‘The Visconde?’ he inquired suavely, a distinct edge to his voice. Eleanor blinked at him. What sort of a mood was this? He looked angry, and thehand holding his knife was tightly closed.

‘Dom Miguel,’ she ventured after a rather timid hesitation, ‘I am not attracted to the Visconde, if that is what you are implying.’ She glanced downat her plate, half expecting a word of censure for daring to speak to him in that way.

‘Would you pour my coffee?’ was all he said for the moment, and she obeyed, although the hand holding the pot trembled. She was unable tosteady it and as the coffee threatened to spill over Dom Miguel reached across the table and took it from her.

‘Something is wrong,’ he declared, returning the pot to its silver stand and then helping himself to sugar. ‘You are not looking at all well thismorning. ’

She swallowed hard. This concern gave pain when it should have given pleasure. How could she have been such a fool as to allow herself to carefor a man so utterly beyond her reach as the Conde Ramiro Vicente Miguel de Castro? She could almost have laughed at her stupidity had her heartnot been so heavy and her mind laden with the weight of the unhappiness of others as well as her own. It was not often she resorted to the relief oftears, but Eleanor was almost on the verge of them now and she did wonder if it were advisable to excuse herself and leave the table, just to ensureshe didn’t make a fool of herself and embarrass the Conde at the same time.

‘If I’m appearing to be off colour,’ she said at last, ‘it’s as I said, the result of lack of sleep.’

‘I suggested something was wrong,’ he reminded her with an inflection in his tone which was in effect a command. ‘You would like to talk to meabout it?’

‘No—I mean ...’ Her voice retreated, but, noting again the kindling of his eyes, she was overcome with sudden panic, as it was more than evidentthat he was determined to make her speak.

‘Yes, Eleanor,’ he prompted gently, ‘you mean...?’ She looked at him appealingly.

‘Why are you questioning me?’ she quivered, forgetting completely that he was her exalted employer. For the moment, he seemed just an ordinaryman. ‘My— my thoughts are private.’ Her eyes felt moist and she blinked rapidly. Dom Miguel’s gaze fixed her across the table. He wasthoughtful; she knew he was aware of her emotional upset and wondered if he would spare her the questioning she dreaded. Her appealing glancehad left him totally unaffected, she was soon to learn, for her employer said, quietly yet with a sort of arrogant inflexibility meant to convey to herthe futility of resistance,

‘I asked if you would like to talk to me about this thing which is troubling you. Eat your breakfast,’ he commanded, flicking a hand to indicate hergrapefruit, untouched in its crystal glass. ‘You can talk at the same time.’

Automatically she shook her head, still gripped by panic. ‘Dom Miguel—’ she began, when she was instantly interrupted.

‘Were I not convinced that the matter affected me then obviously I should not be insisting that you speak of it.’ He noted her quick start, her

nervous rise of colour, and his almost imperceptible nod of the head was proof and more that he had at least a hint of an idea what the conversationwith Sanches had been about. His next words added strength to this conviction. ‘If Sanches wasn’t flirting with you, then he was confiding.’

Eleanor’s heart sank. What she was being ordered to relate must assuredly enrage her employer, as she had no right at all to discuss either him orhis sister with one of his guests ... and especially that particular guest. It suddenly struck Eleanor that, had it not been Sanches with whom she hadbeen in so apparently an intimate conversation, the Conde would not have been so interested in the matter. It also struck Eleanor that she couldomit certain parts of the story, and the effect was to lift a little of the dejection from her. Yes, she thought, as she dwelt on the omissions, she mighteven escape Dom Miguel’s wrath completely.

‘As a matter of fact,’ she said forcing a smile, ‘hewasconfiding.’ Having made the plunge she paused a second. Dom Miguel merely lookedstraight at her and said,

‘Yes?’ in a very soft tone which was an order for her to continue.

‘Sanches—the Visconde—he was telling me about his love for Carlota. He’s very upset that you won’t allow him to court her, and he asked for myhelp.’

Dom Miguel continued to look into Eleanor’s eyes but she noticed his own had hardened and that his mouth had twisted into an arrogant line.

‘I thought as much! Sanches had no right to approach you, a total stranger. And you,senhorita,had no right to enter into a discussion concerningyour employers!’

Senhorita...The formal mode of address. Nothing could have hurt more than this and the tears that hovered so close began to fill her eyes. Nowords were spoken for a moment, but the silence was broken by the raucous cry of a peacock on the lawn outside, as it strutted, white as driftingsnow, in front of the three peahens who were fully occupied in preening their feathers.

‘I knew you’d be angry,’ Eleanor spoke at last, and her voice carried evidence of her dejection. ‘That’s why I didn’t want to tell you of myconversation with the Visconde.’

Arrogance characterized his whole manner as in silence he reached for a piece of toast and put it on his plate.

‘You had better continue,’ he ordered after a moment or two. ‘I prefer to know the whole in spite of my distaste for the subject.’

Another startled glance from Eleanor was caught by Dom Miguel and his grey eyes narrowed.

‘There—there isn’t m-much more to—to tell,’ she stammered nervously.

‘Senhorita,’he murmured in a dangerously forceful tone, ‘I would remind you that you were talking to the Visconde for almost half an hour.’

She flushed hotly, and lowered her head. So although he had appeared to be totally engrossed in conversation with several of his guests he had infact spared some of his attention for the two on the couch.

‘We—we talked of other things as well—’ Eleanor stopped, her words cut abruptly as the flat of the Conde’s hand came down on the table,causing the cutlery to jump.

‘I said I prefer to know the whole!’ he reminded her imperiously, retaining his dignity in spite of his wrathful gesture. ‘I want to know all that wassaid about Carlota and myself!’

All... Something almost akin to terror seized her; she was beginning to wish with all her heart that she had put an end to the conversation betweenSanches and herself as soon as it had dawned on her that the Conde might not like to see his employee so intimately talking to a distinguishedguest. All... This would include informing the Conde that Sanches knew about the baby ... and on this being imparted to him Dom Miguel wouldwithout doubt demand from Sanches the source of his information, since to his knowledge no one knew of it outside himself, Carlota and Eleanor.It would never enter his head that his own wife could have been the informer, and it was going to add salt to his wound when he learned that thiswas so.

‘I can’t tell you the whole!’ cried Eleanor impetuously as she saw what this disclosure must do to him. ‘Please, Dom Miguel, don’t ask me to tellyou any more than I have!’

He stared at her, taken aback by her unexpected outburst, the significance of which had not stuck Eleanor in those few frantic seconds ofimpulsiveness. Now, she saw that her words had provided damning evidence that much had been said which the Conde would not like to hear.That he was becoming more angry than ever was evidenced by the slow emergence of colour under the tan of his skin. It crept up from the sides ofhis mouth, and in addition to this the sudden twist of his lips before they compressed gave to his features that satanic look which Eleanor had seenon two previous occasions, although this time in a much milder form. It was frightening, nevertheless, to see this expression on his face, becausenow it was the result of something she herself had done, and she steeled herself for the unpleasant repercussions, unaware that her eyes were evenbrighter now, reflecting her unhappiness and regret that a scene such as this should be taking place between her and the employer with whom uptill now she had had so excellent a relationship.

‘Am I to understand,’ said Dom Miguel in tones of icy hauteur, ‘that the subject matter of your discussion with the Visconde was such that, ifrepeated, it would greatly offend me?’

‘It would hurt you,’ she answered swiftly, again without due thought, and the Conde’s arrogant brow lifted.

‘Hurt, madam?’ he snapped.

Madam... This was even more cold and formal an address and Eleanor found herself biting hard on her lip, endeavouring to hold back the tears.She looked at him, deep regret in her lovely eyes, where the moisture was swiftly gathering for all her efforts at control. To her dismay she found itnecessary to seek in her pocket for a handkerchief and as she was busy dabbing at her eyes she failed to notice the strange expression whichcrossed her companion’s face, or the tenseness of his mouth that denoted some inner twinge of conscience. What she did notice, however, was themarked alteration in the timbre of his voice as he said,

‘I must ask you to be frank with me, notwithstanding your conviction that what you have to say will— hurt me.’

Clearly he was curious, and she had in all honesty to own that there was every reason why he should be. It was also understandable that he shoulddemand from her the full content of a conversation which he knew concerned both Carlota and himself. What was to be done? Should she refuseabsolutely to obey him then she was going to place herself in a position which would be impossible ... seeing that she felt the way she did abouthim. It were bad enough that he had no personal interest in her at all; it would be unbearable altogether if there should be open animosity in hisattitude towards her. Already he had hurt her by his anger and his stiff formality in dropping the use of her Christian name; she was now under noillusions whatsoever that he had it in his power to hurt her far more. However, if on the other hand she did obey his command and tell him all,then, as she had said,hewas going to be hurt. He was also going to be humiliated, and this in turn would reflect upon Eleanor, affecting his mannerwith her. She gave a deep quivering sigh; the position was too involved for her and she told him haltingly that she would like time in which todecide whether or not she could relate to him the whole of the conversation between the Visconde and herself. She had a vague idea of contactingthe Visconde by telephone and warning him, of advising him to think up some way of deceiving Dom Miguel when he asked from where theVisconde’s information had come. But Dom Miguel might have guessed that there was a reason for this final prevarication, for his immediateresponse was an inexorable threat to give her a month’s notice if she refused to tell him all—at once. Eleanor heard this in amazement, the idea ofdismissal never having entered her head. She thought of Carlota and said in faltering tones,

‘Your sister ... she’ll be lonely again... ’

The Conde’s lids came down. Eleanor knew for sure that the last thing he wanted to do was sack her, but she also knew for sure that his threat wasnot lightly made.

‘Should it become necessary, I shall engage another companion for her,’ he replied quietly in response to

Eleanor’s words. His grey eyes were intently fixed upon her, challengingly. ‘I mean what I say,’ he added in a very soft tone, and, spreading herhands in a gesture of resignation and helplessness, Eleanor began to relate almost everything that had been said the night before, leaving out onlythose parts concerning his wife.

Dom Miguel’s face remained grim while Eleanor was speaking, and when, after a very short time, she stopped, not a muscle moved. What were histhoughts? she wondered, staring at him and reading nothing at all from that inscrutable mask. She sensed with astonishment that anger was absent,and this lightened exceedingly the weight that had settled on her heart. Perhaps the knowledge that Sanches was willing to marry Carlota had gonea long way to assuaging any hurt to Dom Miguel’s pride. At length he spoke, to ask the question which she dreaded most of all, for it touched onone of the several things Eleanor had omitted.

‘Did Sanches tell you how he came by the information that Carlota was having a baby?’

Without thinking she shook her head; it was an automatic, delaying action, and the lie had to be forced to her lips, for those metallic eyes wereprofoundly disconcerting now.

‘No—he didn’t.’

‘Don’t lie!’

She jumped, feeling like a child slapped out of a tantrum, and the colour rushed hotly into her cheeks.

‘Dom Miguel,’ she faltered, ‘I would rather you asked the Visconde yourself.’

His eyes narrowed to mere slits. Whatever conclusion he had reached was unmentioned for the present.

‘I reminded you that you were talking to Sanches for almost half an hour,’ he said in a very soft tone, ‘and what you have told me has taken nolonger than a mere three or four minutes.’ She could find nothing to say to this and he continued, still in those soft and measured tones, ‘You dorealize that you have added little to what you told me at first?’ She moistened her lips, looking at him pleadingly and shaking her head faintly as ifshe would will him to understand and cease from asking these tormenting questions.

‘There wasn’t a great deal to tell, Dom Miguel,’ she said in a low tone. ‘The Visconde talked about the times when he and Carlota weretogether—that was when you visited your estate here more often—and he said he used to hope that she would fall in love with him. He also said heregretted not approaching you earlier, but that Carlota was such a child—’ Eleanor tailed off, because of the Conde’s marked impatience and thesteely glint in his eyes. ‘This is most difficult for me,’ she pointed out, fluttering a hand helplessly. ‘My—position, Dom Miguel—’

It was a long while before he spoke, but when at last he did most of the arrogance had disappeared from his voice. Eleanor had the astonishingimpression that he no longer wanted to regard her as an employee but rather as a confidante, and she was reminded of that evening when, Carlotahaving gone to bed and left them alone, Dom Miguel had unbent sufficiently to talk about his sister in a way that bordered on the intimate in thatthe trouble she had gone through was mentioned, and Eleanor had even been brave enough to hint that the girl should never have been left. Eleanoralso recalled her feeling that, for the first time, she and the Conde had been equals. She felt that way now, even before Dom Miguel broke thesilence to ask, quietly and with a distinct note of acceptance in his voice.

‘Did Sanches happen to mention my wife?’

‘Yes, Dom Miguel, he did.’

A small hesitation and then,

‘I understand your reluctance, Eleanor—’ Another pause. ‘And I appreciate your concern for my feelings.’ She looked up, relieved, and strangelyhappy even though she knew he must be experiencing acute pain at this moment.

‘Thank you,’ she said a little shakily. ‘I was so troubled about—about arousing your anger. ’

An almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.

‘I’m afraid I was more than ready to be angry,’ he admitted, but added instantly that it would have been most unreasonable of him when she was soclearly concerned about his feelings. His smile deepened as he looked at her and she responded gratefully, her mind bridging the few words spokensince the use of her name again. Strange how his addressing her as Eleanor could dissolve the weight of depression she had been carrying. ‘Didyou know about my wife before last evening?’ inquired Dom Miguel, as the idea occurred to him, and after the merest hesitation Eleanor admittedthat she did. For this was a moment of total honesty and in any case she could not have told him another deliberate lie.

‘Carlota did let something slip out once—quite by accident,’ she added hastily.

He became thoughtful, but much to her surprise there was nothing in his expression to justify her previous assumption that he must be sufferinghurt. Undeniably there was a strange light in his eyes, but it was a hardness rather than one of brooding pain; it was also fleeting, for much toEleanor’s relief it faded just as swiftly as it had appeared.

‘My wife is never mentioned,’ he said dispassionately. ‘The reason need not be disclosed.’ Having finished his meagre breakfast he leant back inhis chair, watching Eleanor as she toyed absently with the grapefruit which she had scarcely touched. He had told her to eat, she remembered, andas there was sudden censure in the sharp tilt of his head she lowered her own and took more interest in what she was doing. ‘I have reached my

own conclusion as to how Sanches learned about Carlota’s trouble,’ continued Dom Miguel after a moment or two, and a small sigh accompaniedthis statement. ‘However, it’s of no matter now. The important thing is that Sanches is willing to marry Carlota.’ The Conde paused, then added,when Eleanor had lifted her head, ‘He asked for your help, you said?’ A small, deprecating shrug and then,

‘We didn’t discuss any particular way in which I could help. I said I’d think about it and try to find a solution to the problem. ’

‘The problem being my refusal, obviously?’

‘Yes. You see, Sanches—the Visconde,’ she amended rather quickly, only to note a faint curve of her companion’s lips which brought faint colourto her cheeks, ‘he knew why you refused, but was unable to tell you this.’

‘Naturally. ’

The matter was too delicate, Dom Miguel was thinking, surmised Eleanor, pausing a moment before she ventured, ‘You’ll not withhold yourconsent now?’

‘You’re obviously eager to see Carlota married to Sanches?’ he asked, leaving her question in abeyance— although she knew what the answermust be. He was watching Eleanor intently, saw her eyes shadow and her mouth quiver before she said,

‘Yes, Dom Miguel, I would.’

Silence as their eyes met. Eleanor was the first to glance away, and to break what was now becoming a tensed, electric hush affecting them bothequally.

‘I—I do understand that I’ll no longer be needed—’ Rapidly she blinked away tears. What was the matter with her? she asked herself angrily.Never in her life had she been so tearful as this. Unsteadily she rose to her feet, dropping her napkin on to the table. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ shequivered, ‘I must—must—’

‘Eleanor,’ said Dom Miguel gently, also rising from his chair and moving round to her side of the table, ‘you will be needed. ’ As if acting withoutthinking he took hold of both her hands, felt her tremble at his touch even while she looked up at him through her tears, registering the greatestastonishment. ‘Yes, my dear, you will be needed.’ Wonderingly she shook her head.

‘I can’t be—I mean, in what capacity?’

He frowned at his own thoughts and his voice was edged with a sort of bitter helplessness as he said,

‘I don’t know in what capacity, but there’ll be a—a post for you.’ Turning her hands over, he looked at them in quiet contemplation for a long andbrooding moment, while Eleanor still continued to stare, bewildered, uncomprehending ... and yet acutely aware of her own pounding heart and astrange surge of hope rising in her breast. ‘Promise me you’ll stay, Eleanor,’ he at length demanded in forceful, imperative tones, his griptightening on her hands. ‘Promise!’

‘I promise,’ she responded huskily. ‘Yes, of course I promise.’

His features relaxed and were softened by a smile. ‘Thank you, my dear,’ he said quietly, and before her astonished mind could quite take it in hehad lifted her hand and pressed it fleetingly to his lips.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Eleanor thought about his action long after he had left her, and although there was not the slightest doubt in her mind that the act had beeninvoluntary, and that had he stopped to think he most certainly would have held back, the very spontaneity was a revelation in that the Conde’sregard for her was obviously not entirely impersonal, and to strengthen this idea was the memory of that profound moment last evening when, thewaltz having ended, he had stood looking down as if he could not take his eyes off her. It would seem that he liked her, if only a little, she toldherself breathlessly and with a return of that feeling of hope resulting from his declaration that she was still needed. So strange a thing for him tosay, though, since she had come to Portugal for the precise purpose of protecting his sister. If she and Sanches married then that should by rightshave meant the termination of Eleanor’s services, but Dom Miguel had said there would be a post for her. Vague his words had been, and as sheviewed the situation in a far less emotional atmosphere than that prevailing at the breakfast table, Eleanor admitted to her mind the fact that therewas something most odd about the whole affair. It suddenly struck her that the only important thing to the Conde at present was that she shouldstay, and that as for the future—it was unpredictable. However, it was enough for Eleanor that she could remain close to the man she had come to

love. It might be that he would never come to love her—or, if he did, it might be years hence, when the memory of his first wife had fadedsufficiently for him to be able to look at someone else. In the meantime, she would be satisfied just to know he was there, and that he wanted her tobe there.

That evening at Sanches’ dinner-party Eleanor had an opportunity of informing her host of what had transpired, dispelling his quickly gatheringalarm by saying that everything was all right, and that Dom Miguel had displayed neither the anger nor humiliation which she had expected.

‘He’ll be waiting for you to approach him,’ she smiled. ‘And of course you will receive the answer you want.’

‘Carlota,’ he said, looking a little scared. ‘Suppose she

doesn’t want to marry me?’

Eleanor widening smile was all he needed for complete reassurance, even before she spoke.

‘Dom Miguel spoke to her this morning, asking how she felt about you. I don’t anticipate any trouble for you, Sanches.’

‘Carlota told you this—that Miguel talked to her about me?’

‘Yes, she told me—and very happy she looked as she was doing so.’

‘It is all due to you, Eleanor,’ he told her gratefully, gesturing with his hand as she would have denied this. ‘You must have had a very goodinfluence on Miguel.’

‘I merely told him what we’d been saying. I had to tell him, as I mentioned to you; he made me.’

‘But the way you told him must have influenced him,’ Sanches insisted. ‘I thank you from the bottom of my heart.’

She was inordinately touched by his sincerity. How charming all these people were. Eleanor knew that even if she had not loved Dom Miguel shecould still have lived among them. Not that she would have had the chance, of course. It was merely her good fortune in meeting the Conde thathad resulted in her coming to this lovely country and being able to settle here.

As on the previous evening Inez played the piano and after dancing with his sister the Conde came over to where Eleanor was in conversation withClara and her husband. He merely smiled and extended a hand in what could only be described as a proprietorial gesture. Eleanor rose, putting herhand in his and smiling up at him. He swung her into the dance and for the next few minutes she was in a world of sheer delight; no one else was inthe room but her and Miguel. She saw only his face, was conscious only of his presence—and his hard lean body close to hers. Her lovely lipsquivered and she saw his eyes flicker with a most odd expression. They reached the french window, which was wide open. They were through it,waltzing on the verandah, and then the music stopped. She was still in his arms, in the darkness of the corner which they had somehow managed toreach.

‘Eleanor, my dear ... ’ A whisper, yet vibrant with emotion; a brush of cool lips on her cheek; a caress as strong hands moved from her back to takeher face into their cupped smoothness. She was transported to the clouds as, lifting her face under the pressure of his hands, she waited, breathless,for his kiss. He seemed to swallow something in his throat, but in the dimness she could not be sure. But she did see him shake his head—in a littlehelpless, hopeless gesture. ‘We must go in, dear,’ he murmured and, reaching for her hand, he led her gently back along the length of the verandahtowards the window. By the time they reached it Inez was playing again, the Fado de Vila Riscosa this time, and most of the occupants of the roomwere dancing. Miguel halted, staring into the brilliance of the exquisitely-decorated room. Sanches was dancing with Carlota—and whispering inher eager ear something which brought the colour flowing prettily to her cheeks.

‘Carlota is happy,’ murmured Eleanor, glancing up at her companion. She wondered why she wasn’t feeling awkward and shy, after what had justtaken place. She had not really expected him to kiss her; she was satisfied that he had shown, for the first time, some tangible evidence of a likingfor her. She must not expect more, as after all he was still sorrowing for his lost wife. And if he had been afforded a small amount of comfort fromthat gentle, almost tender little scene just enacted, then that was all she needed to make her happy.

‘And so is Sanches—’ A swift break in his voice and— could it be a deep and quivering sigh of regret? A tautness stole over her, but he seemed tobe aware of her hurt and his clasp on her hand tightened comfortingly.

‘What are you two doing?’ Inez’s husband, Barrolo, came up to the couple framed in the window, and his eyes moved for a fleeting moment totheir clasped hands. If he were surprised he successfully managed to keep this to himself, but what really registered, tumbling her thoughts into a

whirlpool of bewilderment, was the fact that Dom Miguel made no hasty move to relinquish his hold. Amazing as it was, he obviously did notmind being seen holding Eleanor’s hand. ‘Taking a breath of fresh air, it seems?’

‘We were dancing on the verandah,’ offered Dom Miguel without much expression. ‘As you suggest, the fresh air was tempting.’ Glancing downat Eleanor he smiled faintly as if inviting her corroboration. But she felt shy and awkward in Barrolo’s presence, and she merely nodded her head,hoping her colour was under control.

‘It is pleasant out there.’ Barrolo smiled as he spoke; Eleanor sensed that he was merely speaking superficially, making conversation. ‘Our climateis wonderful, is it not, Miss Salway?’

‘Indeed it is,’ she replied enthusiastically. ‘I am revelling in all the lovely sun, and the warm balmy evenings.’

‘You will miss it if ever you return to your own country?’ Subtle the question. Barrolo was no longer idly making conversation. His keen browneyes were fixed on Dom Miguel’s face despite the fact of his having put the question to Eleanor. Dom Miguel said, stepping into the room,

‘Eleanor won’t be returning in the foreseeable future.’

‘No?’ Twisting his head, Barrolo glanced to where Carlota and Sanches were dancing, Sanches’ head bent and Carlota’s face uplifted. ‘Well, that’spleasant news,’ Barrolo said to Eleanor, ‘as we should not like to lose you when we’ve only just become acquainted.’

‘There’s no fear of that,’ submitted Dom Miguel, gently tugging at Eleanor’s hand as he moved further into the room, Barrolo by his side.

A short while later Dom Miguel and Sanches were seen conversing together, and just as the party was breaking up the engagement betweenCarlota and Sanches was announced.

To Eleanor it seemed that everyone from the entire province had gathered at Viano de Castelo for theromaria—the festival of Our Lady of theAgony, which was always held in August. It was the big holiday of the year, Carlota had told her, and so full were the hotels that many tourists hadto sleep in their cars.

‘Miguel doesn’t really like crowds,’ Carlota said as she and Eleanor strolled along behind her brother and Sanches. The four had gone tothefestatogether, but Carlota had confided that she and Sanches would like to go off on their own. Eleanor, her thoughts flying on to the vision ofbeing alone with the Conde, found her feelings about the idea very mixed, for while she would have loved nothing more than having him as hersole companion at the gayfesta,she was also acutely conscious of the fact that it would be preferable, for her peace of mind, to remain with Carlotaand her fiance. However, as they all sat in a cafe a little later on, Sanches asked outright if he could take Carlota for a sail on the river, and afteronly the smallest hesitation Dom Miguel agreed.

‘So you have me alone for company.’ Dom Miguel spoke as soon as the young couple had left them, making for the river. ‘I hope you won’t bebored.’

Eleanor glanced swiftly at him.

‘I most certainly shan’t be bored. How could I—with all this gaiety around?’ She swept a comprehensive gesture with her hand. Groups of singersand dancers were performing in the square, the women dressed in their colourful local costumes, and wearing all their gold ornaments—braceletsand necklaces and earrings. Music floated over the flower-scented air and although the temperature was soaring the energetic dancing continued.

‘You like crowds and noise?’ Dom Miguel asked as he endeavoured to guide Eleanor through the press of people who, after watching theprocession, were making for the square.

‘It’s exciting—my firstfestaever,’ she answered eagerly, but then added, ‘You—do you enjoy this sort of entertainment?’

To her surprise he nodded reassuringly.

‘For a change, Eleanor, yes, I do enjoy it.’

She breathed an involuntary sigh of relief. She would not have been able to derive full pleasure from thefestaif Dom Miguel had seemed bored.

‘Carlota seemed to think you didn’t like crowds.’

‘For the most part, no, I certainly do not like crowds,’ he responded firmly. ‘But thefestahere at Viana do Castelo is something we never miss if we

happen to be up here at the time. It’s traditional to come, and it’s a pleasant change from

the quiet and isolation of the Palacio.’

‘I’m glad you’re liking it,’ she said impulsively, and immediately noted the swift downward glance he gave her.

‘So it matters to you if I’m liking it or not?’ A strange inflection in his voice left her puzzled, and for an instant his face hardened and his eyesglinted darkly as if at some recollection that was far from pleasant.

‘Yes,’ replied Eleanor simply, ‘it does matter to me.’ They had reached the square and as there was such a crowd Miguel seemed to think itnecessary to take hold of Eleanor’s hand. She felt its warmth as his strong slender fingers curled gently round hers; she became filled with the newand exciting sensation of expectancy and when eventually she felt his hand transferred to her shoulder it came as no surprise whatsoever. Shelooked up, and in his eyes a smile dawned—to meet with an instant response. Eleanor realized her heart was light and knew the reason was that theConde was happy in her company. The brooding introversion which was so familiar seemed alien to his character at this moment; the arroganceand consciousness of his exalted position were also totally absent.

‘Have I told you how charming you look?’ he asked unexpectedly, and a soft flush of pleasure fused her cheeks. Naturally she looked down, onlyto meet with a second surprise as he tilted her face up again. ‘You blush very nicely too,’ he added, amused by the fact that his words had sent herinto confusion. ‘ Tell me, Eleanor, have you ever had a boyfriend?’

‘Not a serious one.’

He gave a quick laugh.

‘You mean he was not serious—or was it you?’

‘Neither of us was serious.’ She paused a moment, her attention with the dancers, whirling around in their gay clothing which went so well withthe folk-dances. ‘I went out with several young men,’ she confessed, memory bringing back the odd casual interlude which now and then occurredwhile she was at college. There had been a couple of students who had taken her to the cinema or to a dance, and there was, of course, TerryKershawe. Eleanor found herself telling the

Conde about him, and actually admitting that the thought of having him pestering her for yet another year had gone a long way to influencing herabout accepting the Conde’s offer to come to Portugal as companion to his sister.

‘It is lucky for us that he did pester you,’ observed Dom Miguel, and Eleanor had the unmistakable impression that he had hesitated for a fractionalmoment before using the word ‘us’. Had the word ‘me’ almost slipped out? Nerves tingled deliciously at the thought; emotions rioted as his armslid across her back so that it was in effect around her. So unusual for the austere and aloof Conde Ramiro Vicente Miguel de Castro to unbend inthis way, she thought, and yet hadn’t she decided almost at the beginning that he was quite human—or could be, once one got to know him?Eleanor contrived to appear unaffected by this intimate action on his part, but inwardly she was far from calm. Never had she visualized exquisiteemotion such as that which encompassed her, here, at the gayfestaof Viana do Castelo. She would never forget it, and she told the Conde this atdinner that evening. Sanches had come back to thesolarewith them and afterwards Miguel allowed him and Carlota to go off together again, thisbeing proof of his trust both in his sister and her fiance.

‘So once again we find ourselves alone.’ His smile thrilled Eleanor as, after sitting with her on the verandah for a while after the departure of theothers, he rose from his chair and added, ‘Shall we go out again?’

‘Of course, if you want to.’ She felt shy that he should ask her to decide, and added awkwardly, ‘It’s—it’s up to you.’

He laughed and his grey eyes twinkled.

‘What is it, Eleanor?’ he asked softly, reaching for her hand and gently pulling her to her feet. ‘Don’t be shy, dear, there’s really no need. I’m justan ordinary person,’ he added unexpectedly and, as on a previous occasion, he lifted her hand and she felt the gentle touch of his lips on herfingers. A rosy blush leapt to her cheeks, and his eyes flickered with an unfathomable light as they rested for a long moment on her face. ‘Come,’he said, suddenly brisk, ‘we’re missing all the fun!’

There was a firework display, and more merrymaking as the music of the serenaders drifted out from the Lima River. Eleanor and her companionwere drawn into the dance, and to her surprise Dom Miguel joined in wholeheartedly. At first Eleanor protested that she was unable to do the

dances, but this was swept aside and after a few faltering steps her diffidence faded and she threw herself into the dance, laughing up at DomMiguel and feeling inordinately young and free of all inhibitions.

‘That was lovely!’ she exclaimed impulsively as the music stopped and she and Dom Miguel stepped out of the circle of dancers. ‘Oh, Miguel, I’venever enjoyed myself so much ...’ She allowed her voice to trail away into an embarrassed silence as her eyes were raised rather fearfully to thoseof her employer. To her astonishment he appeared amused by her slip, and although her lips had already formed an apology, it was never uttered.All she said was, ‘Oh, dear!’ before he cut her short with,

‘Don’t apologize, Eleanor. It’s time the formalities were dropped. ’

‘ It—it just slipped out... ’

‘And most attractively too,’ he said, but now his amusement vanished and in its place was that helpless, hopeless attitude she had noted previously.His dark eyes were shadowed with what could only be described as regret and suddenly her heart sank right into her feet. That he liked her wascertain—and yet there seemed to be something preventing him from admitting it, even to himself ... something more than love for, and loyaltytowards, his dead wife. Mystery loomed again, baffling and frustrating. Or was she imagining things? she wondered as, watching her companion’schanging expression, she saw a smile appear—a smile which instantly erased that hopeless look and which also served to lighten Eleanor’s heartagain. ‘Shall we go home, then?’ he asked, and Eleanor at once agreed, remembering to thank him for a lovely day when, a few minutes later, theywere driving back to thesolare,Miguel at the wheel of the car.

‘Don’t thank me, Eleanor,’ he said gravely, turning his head. ‘Rather, I think, I must thank you. It’s a long while since I felt the way I did today. ’The remark was cryptic and yet Eleanor knew instinctively that Miguel had been happy, and that this was what he meant to convey to her. Herspirits began to soar, but resolutely she held them in check. There was no possibility of Miguel’s falling in love with her in the immediate future,and, therefore, she must avoid giving any sign of her own feelings.

‘It’s very nice of you to say that,’ she murmured shyly after a pause. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it as much as I.’

He nodded, but seemed now to be concentrating on his driving, and no more was said until they arrived at his home. The car slid quietly to astandstill in the paved courtyard; Miguel assisted Eleanor from it, a hand under her elbow. Renaissance pillars gleamed in the moonlight, and overthe high arched doorway could be seen the Castro crest, embellished in gold. Caryatids in ornate flowing robes stood at each side, holding up theends of the pediment. Flowers from the terraced gardens filled the night air with fragrance and into the silence intruded the musical echo of wateras it cascaded down from a rocky ledge somewhere in the grounds. Magic was in the air; excitement flowed through Eleanor’s veins despite herefforts at stern control.

‘How lovely it all is!—and how peaceful. It’s nice to get back home, away from the crowds...’ Her quick and faintly nervous utterings werebrought to an end as Miguel stopped and turned her round to face him. His hand touched her chin, lifting it. Her mouth moved, but whatevertrembling words hovered they were never voiced, for in the sweet intimacy of the moment Miguel bent his head and kissed her gently on the lips.And when presently he withdrew he shook his head in the most peculiar way, as if shaking off some imprisoning net that had for a time curtailedhis freedom, both of action and thought. Eleanor smiled, quiveringly, and his eyes kindled with a light that set her pulses on fire before, drawingher into his embrace, he sought her eager lips again.

So much for her efforts at control; so much for the determination to keep from him her feelings. No pretence would now undo what was done, shethought wryly. But did it matter? Miguel was not the man to kiss her like that unless he cared. The thought of his wife naturally crossed her mind,and she did wonder that he could give his attention to another woman so soon after her death, especially as it was firmly assumed that he wassecretly mourning her loss. But Eleanor was only human and she was in love with the handsome Conde; she therefore put the beautiful Dora away,out of her consciousness, and when yet again he masterfully tilted her chin and demanded her lips, she gave them gladly, responding even when hisgentleness had progressed to ardour so strong that she was swept into a maelstrom of temptation and desire. Breathless when at last she wasreleased, she could only stand there, close to him, and intimate, and stare into his grey eyes, her mouth quivering, and warm from his kisses. Hesmiled down at her, his hands resting lightly on her arms, his features softened by the translucent, unfolding light as the drowsy moon emergedfrom the filigree of summer cloud, into the open sky.

‘You’re very beautiful,’ he said softly, ‘and very, very sweet. Stay that way, my dear ... always stay that way.’ Eleanor gave a start as these lastwords were uttered, for they rose from the very depths of him, carried on a trembling sigh that was totally at variance with his innate superiorityand confidence, and his strength.

‘I’ll never change,’ she whispered in response, driven to voice words she knew he wished to hear. And she added, when the lengthy silence at last

became oppressive, ‘I’m not a changeable kind of person.’

Miguel looked at her long and hard, an unfathomable expression on his face. At last he said, a harshness creeping into his voice,

‘We all believe that—but we do change, nevertheless.’

His change of voice hurt and it must have showed, for his face softened again and a smile appeared. ‘No, Eleanor, you’ll not change,’ hemurmured, soothingly as if placating a child. ‘There’s a steadfastness about you that made an immediate impression on me. You’ll be constant toyour husband.’

She glanced swiftly at him, but his face was an unreadable mask.Didhe care? she asked herself, terribly afraid that she might be mistaken, and hehad kissed her merely as a diversion, and because of the pleasant day they’d spent together. Was his heart still captive to the memory of his lostwife? If so, would it remain captive for ever? This had happened before, many times, and such was Miguel’s character that Eleanor could very wellimagine his being faithful to Dora right to the very end of his life.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Just over a week after their return to the Palacio Eleanor found herself with an afternoon entirely free, Carlota having decided to take a siesta andMiguel having gone into Lisbon on business. The garden tempted and Eleanor took a book on to the lawn. But it lay idle on her lap, as she reclinedthere, on a chair, drowsily contemplating the scenery—the colourful terraced gardens flaunting exotic flowers, the lovely Fountain of theMermaids, and the stream meandering about before disappearing into the wooded park. Beyond the park rose the craggy mountain range,presenting a picture of untamed romantic grandeur as its escarpments swept down across the coastal plain to the sea. On the summits castles orpalaces stood gauntly outlined against a clear metallic sky, while the gentler lower slopes and foothills certainly brought to mind the fact that Sintrahad once been called ‘this fertile Eden’.

Sighing contentedly, Eleanor picked up her book, but her dreamy gaze was on the house, fully appreciative of the elegance of style and structure.The granite facade shone in the sunshine, the long verandah, profusely decorated with blue and white azulejos, was also a spectacle of floriatedcolour which was reflected in the three huge windows of the crimson drawing-room behind it. Eleanor’s eyes moved, higher, and suddenly shewent taut. Julia was at the window of Dora’s room, staring into the garden, and on impulse Eleanor opened her book and to all appearances becameimmersed in it. But surreptitiously she darted a glance from under her lashes. Julia had moved but reappeared at another window. She could be upthere cleaning out the room, mused Eleanor—but decided this was not the case. Nerve-ends tingled as the idea of a mystery loomed beforeEleanor’s vision again. What should she do? Instinct urged her to find some tactful way of imparting her suspicions to Miguel, but the nextmoment she was querying what those suspicions were, and she found no answer. She had seen Julia with the mink coat, taking it from her formermistress’s room—but as

Eleanor had already admitted, there was probably a perfectly legitimate reason for removing it. Then there was the couple in the park; she, Eleanor,suspected that the woman might be Julia, but she hadn’t the merest thread of a clue on which to base that suspicion. And now... The fact that Juliawas at the window meant absolutely nothing. The room, like any other in the house, had to be cleaned.

Somehow, Eleanor’s suspicions remained and, impelled by some force she could not understand, for she had always been the sort of person tomind her own business, she went into the house half an hour later and mounted the stairs. Coming to a halt outside the door of the room inquestion, she listened, one eye on the stairs. All was silent; not a sound anywhere and, gently turning the ornate silver-gilt knob, Eleanor pushedthe door open. The room was empty and she entered, closing the door behind her, her eyes automatically flitting to the communicating door, herheart leaping as she did so. If Miguel should happen to open it—But he was out, she reminded herself sternly. No need for this mad pulsation ofheart and nerves.

For a long moment she stood there, just inside the door, her eyes sweeping the beautiful room and coming to rest, quite naturally, on the box inwhich she had placed the diamond clip. And, quite naturally, she moved over to it and lifted the lid, a little gasp escaping her as she saw that notonly had the clip disappeared, but also a gold and sapphire bracelet which had lain on a pad of white velvet. Her blood seemed to freeze as the ideabecame rooted that the girl was stealing. Stealing ... and passing the treasures to an accomplice? It would seem like it. Yes, Eleanor was now verysure that this was what was taking place, and once again she asked herself what she must do. How could she drop a hint to Miguel without creatinga situation whereby questions must inevitably ensue? It was not possible, and yet she felt in duty bound to do something about the matter.

‘I can’t,’ she murmured instantly, ‘not without revealing

my own interference.’

Having stood there turning the situation over in her mind for a long while, she at last left the room. But her footsteps seemed to take over, guidingher towards the smaller stairway leading up into the attics. She made no pretence about wanting to look upon the portrait of Miguel’s late wife andafter entering one of the rooms and finding nothing more than old trunks and suitcases, and a few items of furniture covered with dust, she movedalong the passage and entered the room next door. She saw at once that this was where the portrait would be, as there were many pictures in framesleaning against the walls. The one she sought was there, right at the front, and, as if handling something hot, Eleanor tilted it, then moved away,gasping as she did so, her eyes wide and disbelieving as, coming to a halt, she stared, fascinated, at the sheer beauty of the face that looked back ather. Both Carlota and Sanches had remarked on Dora’s beauty, but words could not describe it. The eyes, enormous and full of expression, werewidely set and framed by thick curling lashes that seemed almost unreal. The high forehead was unlined, the facial contours so exquisitely formedthat they might have been the work of some perfectionist sculptor.

Eleanor’s gaze remained fixed; she was quite unable to draw it away from the portrait, which seemed to have cast some intangible spell upon her.She had decided from the first that Miguel was possessed of just about everything nature could bestow; Dora had been equally blessed and as inimagination Eleanor saw them together she visualized all heads turning as people looked, and looked again at so superlative a couple. Eleanorwould have found a fault if she could, but the hint of hardness she felt must surely be portrayed either in the eyes or the mouth, was not to be seen.On the contrary, the beauty of the face was enhanced by an expression of pure innocence, of sheer feminine softness and sincerity. No wonder herhusband had loved her!

At last Eleanor moved, acutely conscious of the void within her. She felt drained, empty, as she began to wonder how she could ever havecherished the hope that Miguel would some day fall in love with her. True, he liked her, but with the vision of his wife always there it was beyondthe bounds of possibility that he could ever give his love to anyone so comparatively plain as Eleanor. And so low did her spirits sink that the tearsactually gathered in her eyes.

With faltering steps she at last went towards the portrait, intending to replace it exactly as she had found it, when suddenly she stopped, nerve-endsspringing to the alert as she spun round, the colour receding from her face as she saw the tall figure standing in the open doorway.

‘Miguel!’ The portrait slipped from her nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor. Horrified, she glanced down; part of the beautiful gilded framehad come away. ‘I—I’m s-so sorry...’ Her voice trailed away to a frightened silence, for on his face was that satanic expression she had noted ontwo previous occasions. His mouth was twisted harshly, his eyes were dark and cold as unpolished steel. She swallowed saliva collecting in hermouth, swiftly stepping back as he entered the room.

‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded harshly, his angry eyes sweeping her from head to foot. ‘How dare you tamper with that portrait?’

Dumbly she shook her head, unable to voice an explanation, and in the ensuing silence she noticed with increasing agitation that white drifts offury were slowly creeping along the sides of his mouth. Without doubt he was encompassed in rage.

‘Answer me! Don’t just stand there!’

‘I—I—’ Helplessly she spread her hands. ‘I’m so sorry—’ ‘Why are you here? What reason have you for prying around like this?’ He came closer,and stood towering above her. ‘That portrait—what were you doing with it?’ Accusation edged the fury in his tones; Eleanor felt as if she hadcommitted sacrilege by even so much as handling the

portrait.

‘I can’t explain, Miguel,’ she whispered, vaguely aware that this was not the time for addressing him like this. ‘Your—your wife’s portrait—I hada—a desire to l-look at it... ’ Swiftly she averted her head, miserably conscious of the utter lack of reason in her stammered words.

‘Who told you it was here?’ Stooping as he spoke, Miguel picked up the fallen portrait and placed it against the wall. Then he picked up the brokenpiece of frame and held it in his hand. Eleanor fixed her gaze upon it, biting her lip at her carelessness. What must he be thinking of her? The tearsthat had already brightened her eyes at her bitter acceptance that he could never love her began to fall on to her cheeks and swiftly she brushedthem away.

‘I mentioned the portrait to Carlota—I mean,’ she stammered as his haughty brows shot up in a gesture of inquiry, ‘that I—I mentioned the spacein the gallery, and asked her if—if your wife’s portrait had been there.’ Eleanor paused, hoping this was sufficient, but he said grittingly.

‘Continue, if you please!’

‘Carlota said you had ordered the portrait to be put up in the attic.’

He stared down into her face, eyes glinting, the hand holding the piece of frame moving spasmodically, revealing the intense emotion under whichhe laboured.

‘So you decided you wanted to see it?’ His narrowed gaze held hers, piercingly.

‘Some inexplicable impulse,’ she murmured, deep contrition edging her tones. ‘Forgive me; I should never have done it. ’

The harsh satanic look had vanished for a space, but as he turned to glance at the portrait it reappeared, sending shivers along Eleanor’s spine. Theman looked as if he could commit murder!

‘Well, you’ve seen it! And what do you think of my wife? Speak! ’ he rapped out finally when she remained dumb.

‘She was very beautiful,’ answered Eleanor in a husky whisper. ‘I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful than she.’

To her amazement he laughed—laughed harshly and yet with an insidious softness that only added to the idea that he could commit murder. Theman had a dual personality, that was for sure. This was not the urbane, aloof and aristocratic Dom Miguel de Castro; this was a devil, a beingcapable of virulent emotions ... and actions.

‘Beautiful, eh?’ He glanced at the portrait again. ‘Yes! No woman ever lived who was more beautiful. Every other woman is plain incomparison—’ His eyes glittered with a sort of burning intensity as they came from the portrait to settle on Eleanor’s face. She stepped back,terrified of this man whom she had grown to love, her thoughts flying to what Carlota had once said about his mind being affected by his wife’sdeath. ‘Did you look well? Did you envy her her beauty?’ The laugh again echoed softly round the musty -smelling room. The light was dim,coming slantingly in from a window in the roof. Eleanor shivered; her companion noticed but was unaffected. ‘Answer, girl! Did you envy her herbeauty—? Here, have another look! Peerless, isn’t she?Look,I say!’ The portrait was thrust before Eleanor’s face. Obediently she looked at it,trembling violently and wanting only to escape from this madman who had her cornered, for as she had stepped back he had followed, so that shewas in a captive position.

‘Yes,’ she quivered, anxious to placate him. ‘Yes, Dom Miguel, I have seen it now—’

‘Well, see it again—and again! You wanted to, didn’t you? Then keep on looking, so that you’ll never forget!’

‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘Please put it down.’ Fear choked her and because she hated to see him like this she was overcome with misery andremorse, and to her dismay she wept unrestrainedly. Words came haltingly through her sobs, words of apology at hurting him, words of contritionat allowing her curiosity to get the better of her. She should not have come up here, she said again, and begged his forgiveness. ‘I would be the lastone t-to cause you h-hurt,’ she cried, lifting her hands from her face to look up at him. ‘Believe me, I’ve hurt myself m-more—’ She stopped,horrified as the portrait was violently flung into the farthest corner of the long narrow room. ‘Dom Miguel!’

‘Downstairs,’ he ordered, stepping to one side and flinging out an arm towards the door. ‘And don’t you ever dare to pry around here again!’

Trembling from head to foot, Eleanor stood in the middle of her bedroom, hands clasped tightly in front of her, her face growing hotter and hotteras she lived through that moment when, turning, she had seen the Conde standing there, framed in the open doorway. How had he come to bethere? He had returned earlier than she had expected, but there was nothing surprising in that; his business had been conducted in less time that hehad anticipated. What was surprising was the fact of his having come up to the attic. But perhaps there was something there which he wanted ... orhe could have been wanting to look at the portrait. Whatever the reason, the incident had resulted in deep humiliation for Eleanor, and mustwithout doubt impair her relationship with her employer. Certainly it would remain deeply stamped on Miguel’s consciousness and Eleanorwondered however she would be able to face him again.

Anguish at the knowledge that she had caused him pain, and fury at her own weakness in giving way to the curiosity which had taken her up to theattic, mingled to add further to the burden of utter dejection that was weighing her down. There had been little hope for her before; there was noneat all now, for Miguel must be feeling the utmost contempt for her and, of course, blaming her for the pain and misery that had resulted in histossing the portrait across the room. Where was he now? Still up there?—lovingly handling the portrait and perhaps subconsciously asking Dora’spardon for what he, in his anguish, had done to it?

He had been like a man deranged, she thought, puzzled all at once by the violence exhibited when, thrusting the portrait before her eyes, he hadordered Eleanor to keep on looking, so that she would never forget. Did it mean that she must take in the woman’s beauty and having done soadmit to herself that she had no chance?

‘Every other woman is plain in comparison... ’ His words came back and she closed her eyes tightly.Shewas plain in comparison, he had in effectbeen telling her, and Eleanor now believed she understood. Miguel, discovering that he liked Eleanor, had acted in a way which he had since cometo regret. Up there, just now, he had made it plain that no other woman could compare with his wife, and that if Eleanor had any ideas about hisbeing unfaithful to her memory, then she could think again.

This idea slowly grew to a conviction, and at last Eleanor came to the reluctant decision that she must leave the Palacio just as soon as possible.The thought did strike her that Miguel would dismiss her, but she put it aside; he would require her services until the day Carlota was married.After that, whether he still wished to retain her services or not she intended to return to her own country. Once there, she told herself, she wouldsoon forget the handsome Conde who could thrill her one moment and put fear into her the next. Fear... Involuntarily she shuddered. Never had shebeen so frightened as she was a few minutes ago when he had stood so close, his anger flaring because she had dared to touch the portrait of hiswife.

It was inevitable that Carlota should notice Eleanor’s rather haggard appearance, and the moment they met at the tea table she remarked anxiouslyupon it.

‘Are you feeling ill?’ Her eyes scanned Eleanor’s face, shadowing as a frown creased her brow. ‘You’ve been crying,’ she added, unaware of anylack of tact in this pronouncement.

‘I’ve a headache,’ lied Eleanor, reaching for the teapot.

‘It’s nothing; it’ll go when I’ve had a cup of tea.’

Carlota shook her head emphatically.

‘It’s more than a headache,’ she stated. ‘You haven’t had any bad news from home, or anything?’

Eleanor forced a smile.

‘No, Carlota, I haven’t. Please don’t worry about me. As I said, I shall be all right when I’ve had a cup of tea.’

‘But—’

‘That will do, Carlota—’ The quiet cultured voice cut the girl short and she and Eleanor looked up to see Miguel standing just inside the room,having entered by the open french window. ‘Eleanor has told you there is nothing wrong with her. ’

Carlota flushed, rebuked by his tone and the straight look he directed at her.

‘I’m sorry, Miguel,’ and then, brightly as if she would coax him into a softer mood, ‘You are having tea with us?’ Eleanor had looked away fromhim, but as a small silence followed Carlota’s question she at length glanced up, her cheeks colouring delicately, the hand holding the teapot notquite steady as she poured her tea, having already seen to Carlota’s. Miguel met her gaze, and to her utter astonishment she found no sign ofanimosity there.

‘Yes,’ he said, coming towards the table, ‘of course I’m having tea with you. ’

The scene enacted less than an hour ago might not have taken place, so natural was Miguel’s manner with Eleanor, and in her relief she failed tonotice that beneath this naturalness there did exist a certain aloof hauteur. As the meal came to an end this began to register and she feltinstinctively that by a gradual process her employer meant to put her back into the position which she had occupied at first. She accepted this,admitting she deserved it, but at the same time she was driven to retaliate, if only in self-defence, since pride would not allow her to reveal herfeelings as she had done as a result of the one or two intimate occasions occurring between

Miguel and herself. And so the atmosphere grew cooler and cooler as the days passed, with Eleanor managing to conceal her unhappiness, helpedby the preparations going on for Car-lota’s wedding. Eleanor had to be the chief bridesmaid, the others being relatives of Sanches. Carlota’s dresswas being made by the most exclusive fashion house in Lisbon, as was Eleanor’s. The wedding was to be in the cathedral there, with the receptionat the Palacio.

‘All this work, and just for me! ’ Carlota, excited and flushed with happiness, spread a hand towards the facade of the Palacio where workmenwere standing on high scaffolding, fixing extra lights to the building. The whole gardens were to be floodlit from the house, while hundreds andhundreds of coloured lights were to be fixed to the branches of the trees. The fountains were to be coloured, and an ornate dais was to be erected

where the musicians would play. Others would be playing inside, for those who wished to dance. ‘Isn’t my brother wonderful! ’

Bringing her eyes away from the workmen, Eleanor turned to smile at her companion.

‘He is,’ she replied a little huskily. ‘Heiswonderful, Carlota.’ She was unaware of the slight quiver of her mouth, but Carlota saw it and said with afrown,

‘I think you have something on your mind, Eleanor. You’ve been—different lately.’

Managing a forced laugh, Eleanor said,

‘Now what on earth should I have on my mind?’

‘I don’t know...’ A deepening of Carlota’s frown. ‘My brother—he told me you would be staying on here after I leave ... you will, won’t you,Eleanor?’ In the ensuing silence Eleanor was facing the painful fact that her time here was shortening with incredible rapidity. She would findherself back in England in no time at all. ‘Answer me, please, Eleanor. I know your position will be changed, because I shall have my dear Sanchesto take care of me, but I’ve spoken with my brother about this and he said definitely that you must stay on at the Palacio.’ She turned her head, hereyes suddenly bright. ‘I still want you for my friend, and although we shall be living many miles apart we shall see each other quite often, asMiguel will bring you up to hissolarewhen he comes, and we shall come here to visit Miguel.’ She paused, but still Eleanor remained silent. ‘Ithought it was all settled,’ she persisted urgently. ‘Miguel told me you had promised to stay. ’ Eleanor spoke at last, a deep sigh escaping her.

‘I’m not at all sure I can stay, Carlota dear. You see, there isn’t really a post for me.’

‘Miguel will make one,’ returned Carlota instantly. ‘He wants you to stay, for my sake.’

‘For your sake...’ Another sigh issued from Eleanor’s lips, but Carlota was speaking and missed both this, and Eleanor’s additional catch of breath,which was almost a sob.

‘He knows how much I care for you; he admits that you’ve been a good friend and so he knows I should miss you if you left Portugal. There’s noneed for you to leave, Eleanor. You wouldn’t even have thought of leaving if I hadn’t been getting married, now would you?’

‘No, I suppose not.’

Carlota looked at her in swift surprise.

‘You sound as if you might have,’ she said in a pained sort of voice. ‘Would you have left me?’

‘Certainly not,’ more definitely this time. ‘Don’t let’s talk about it, Carlota. After all, there are much more exciting things to discuss,’ she addedwith a smile, and a faint lift of her head, indicating the workmen up there, on the facade of the Palacio. ‘Your wedding’s going to be the talk of thetown!’

Carlota nodded; she was still troubled, and she obviously said something to her brother, for that evening Miguel came to Eleanor on the patio andsat down opposite to her. Carlota was dressing for dinner, and taking a long time about it as usual.

‘Carlota is under the impression that you’re unsettled now that she’s to be married. Is this right?’ Suave and cool the tones as, without preamble,the question was put to Eleanor.

For a moment she hesitated, and then, quietly,

‘Yes, Dom Miguel, it is right. I shall go home as soon as she leaves here.’ No upward glance to note how he took this; on the contrary, Eleanordeliberately kept her head bent, partly from embarrassment at the recollection of that scene in the attic.

A profound silence followed her statement before he said, in a voice that enjoined complete submission to his will,

‘I seem to remember your making a promise to stay on here after Carlota is married. I expect you to honour that promise.’

Startled, she glanced up.

‘You want me to stay—after—after...?’ Unconsciously she spread her hands in a gesture of bewilderment. ‘You can’t, Dom Miguel,’ she added ina subdued voice. ‘It was so wrong of me—’

‘Shall we forget all about it, Eleanor?’ he cut in roughly, and for one fleeting second his face was tight with anger and she knew instinctively thathe was remembering his lack of control in throwing the portrait across the room, and in front of an employee of his. ‘That promise—you will keepit?’ Again the commanding inflection; his will was being applied and he fully expected submission, but, should be encounter resistance, Eleanorwas convinced he would crush it, and without very much trouble. What should she do? It was for her own protection that she desired to leavePortugal. For of a surety she must suffer extreme hurt if she stayed, allowing her love for Miguel to grow until it filled her whole being. No, shewould not stay! She would escape before the hurt became anguish so deep that even time would not assuage it.

‘No,’ she whispered, fighting the tremor that rose to the edge of her voice. ‘It isn’t possible—’ Pleadingly and apologetically she looked at himacross the table. ‘I w-want to go home.’ Her mouth trembled and her eyes were unnaturally bright. Miguel, whose manner had been so cool andwithdrawn during the past week, seemed suddenly to soften as the hard mask changed to one of faint concern.

‘Your reason?’ he inquired, leaning back in his chair and looking at her through half-closed eyes. ‘You undoubtedly have one?’

Faintly she nodded, playing for time as she sought desperately for some feasible-sounding reason for her wish to return to her own country.

‘I won’t be needed here,’ was all she could find to say and of course his reaction was to remind her that this had already cropped up, and been dealtwith prior to her promise to stay.

‘There’s an altogether different reason for your sudden decision to leave here?’ he added and, when she remained silent, ‘I expect you to honouryour promise,’ he repeated inflexibly, his mouth compressing as she frowned suddenly in protest. ‘I find no excuse for a breaking of that promise.’

Eleanor, was unable to speak as she examined his features for some disturbing confirmation of her suspicions that his perceptive powers had toldMiguel of her feelings for him. There was an altogether different reason for her decision to leave, he had said, but without elaborating on this. Yes,it would seem that he at least had some idea of how she felt about him. She reflected on his coolness towards her since the incident in the attic; herown manner had been similar and so the gap had gradually widened. In view of this Eleanor had not envisaged any argument about her decision toleave.

‘It’s obvious that you don’t want me to leave—’ She broke off, for this was not what she meant to say, not so that he could hear. She hadinadvertently spoken her thoughts aloud. Miguel probably realized this, she instantly thought, as all he said was,

‘Quite obvious, Eleanor.’

Bewilderedly she shook her head.

‘But why? There isn’t really a post for me.’

‘It’s all very puzzling to you, I do admit this,’ he returned in so gentle a tone that she actually gave a little start of surprise. ‘But for the present canwe just leave the matter as it was before ... when you promised to stay?’

Helplessly she made a gesture with her hands. His will was too strong for her—or perhaps it was her own resolution which was weak. The realtruth was that although she was well aware that it were more prudent to leave, it would be far more easy to stay, so avoiding the terrible wrench ofsaying goodbye to him. The reason for his wanting her to stay must obviously be based on a sincere liking for her, and although she was stillconvinced that he could never fall in love with her, there existed a conflicting element to this preconceived idea, and this was the tiny germ of hopewhich persisted somewhere in her subconscious.

‘I’ll stay, Dom Miguel,’ she agreed at last, her eyes unnaturally bright as they looked into his.

‘Good girl!’ He smiled; and a lightness carried her spirits aloft as he added, the stern edge to his voice being far removed from that which might beused by an employer to his employee, ‘And no more of the “Dom”. Understand?’

She stared at the fountain, glittering in light reflected from the house, and murmured a rather awkward ‘Yes ... I understand,’ without turning herhead. That she avoided his eyes seemed to afford him amusement, for she heard a quiet laugh, and she did look up then, comparing his attractivefeatures with the way they had been when he had seen her with his wife’s portrait. Her fluttering smile broke and she heard his breath catch before,quite suddenly, his gaze narrowed, as if he would conceal his expression from her. And the brusqueness with which he spoke served to strengthenthis idea.

‘Can I get you a drink, Eleanor? It’ll be some time before dinner is served,’ and without even waiting for a reply he had already risen and was

entering the salon through the wide french window.

CHAPTER NINE

The date of the wedding having been fixed for the ninth of September, the Palacio was a hive of activity. Sanches came every week-end, stayinguntil Monday morning, and as the couple naturally wanted to spend most of their time together, Eleanor was left either quite alone or, lessfrequently, with her employer. Miguel’s former manner was always in evidence and the scene in the attic might never have occurred. But he wasan enigma to her, since one moment she would be sure he was carrying a weight of grief, and the next she would catch him glancing at her withwhat could only be described as affection. And while he had never kissed her again there were times when she knew instinctively that he camevery near to doing so.

The affair of the missing jewellery would often occupy her mind when she was alone, but she had abandoned any idea of mentioning hersuspicions either to Miguel or his sister. It was none of her business, and in any case, she was unwilling to bring up anything connected withMiguel’s late wife. But the matter was not to be left lying dormant, for one afternoon when Carlota had gone into Lisbon with Sanches and Miguelhad gone for a stroll, Eleanor almost collided with Julia as the latter emerged from Dora’s bedroom into the corridor along which Eleanor waswalking, making for her room.

‘Miss!’ exclaimed Julia, changing colour so that she immediately attracted attention to herself ... and aroused Eleanor’s suspicions all over again.She was carrying a small leather bag, drawn in at the top with fine strands of cord, at the ends of which were ornate beaded tassels. ‘I—I thoughtyou would be taking a siesta—’ The girl pulled herself up sharply, but realized it was too late.

‘You did?’ said Eleanor smoothly. ‘Why?’

Carelessly the girl shrugged.

‘You sometimes do.’

‘Sometimes, yes.’ Eleanor’s eyes travelled to the bag,

which the girl immediately let drop to her side, allowing it to dangle by its cord. It was yet another gesture of well-feigned carelessness, but bynow the colour had entirely drained from Julia’s face.

‘I have been working in Dona Dora’s room,’ she began nervously.

‘On a Sunday?' commented Eleanor, her eyes still fixed on the bag. ‘You work on Sundays, then?’

The girl moistened her lips; she appeared scared—shewasscared, but a strange light of defiance was appearing in her dark protuberant eyes.

‘If I want to work on Sundays, then I shall work on Sundays! ’ Her English was broken, though good, but as she finished she murmured somethingto herself in Portuguese, her glance flitting for a second to the bag she held. ‘There is much extra work, with Dona Carlota’s wedding, so I have towork on Sundays.’

‘Cleaning?’ murmured Eleanor.

The girl frowned darkly.

‘Miss, it has nothing to do with you. You work for the Conde, as I do.’

‘That’s true,’ admitted Eleanor with a slight inclination of her head. ‘I expect you’ve been using dusters?’

‘Of course!’ Julia’s head went up. Nevertheless, she was still afraid, and her eyes darted along the corridor as if she feared someone would appear.

‘You have them in that bag, I presume?’

‘I have—yes!’ The bag was brought up again, and Julia clasped it with both hands. Clearly she was afraid that Eleanor might just decide to feel it.

‘A most pretty bag in which to keep dusters,’ remarked Eleanor, vaguely wondering what she was about. Suspicious she might be, but there wasnothing she could do. Julia asserted quite emphatically that she had been working in her former mistress’s room and there was little to indicate shewas lying—except the absence of cleaning materials, of course, because Eleanor was not deceived into believing that the bag contained dusters.

‘I have to go,’ Julia was saying, deliberately by-passing the comment on the bag. But although she made a move to go she stopped again and aftera moment’s hesitation she said, in a voice half scared, half defiant, ‘You will not tell anyone you saw me come out of this room?’

Eleanor’s eyes flickered. So her suspicions were not unfounded! Not that she had ever believed they were, but she hadn’t expected to have suchclear proof put before her. How much had the girl already had? she wondered, angry at the idea of Miguel’s being robbed.

‘But if you’ve been working, Julia, there’s no reason for secrecy, surely?’

Julia’s eyes glittered.

‘You will not tell my master!’ she said vehemently. ‘No, you will not tell anyone!’

‘So you haven’t been working? Can I see what you have in that bag?’

‘No! It’s—it’s dusters, as you said!’

‘In that case,’ responded Eleanor reasonably, ‘ you have nothing to fear by opening it. ’

‘You think I am stealing,’ said the girl after a long hesitation. ‘I see it in your eyes!’

‘I saw you remove a fur coat from that room,’ Eleanor told her quietly, and the girl seemed suddenly to forget all about the bag as she put bothhands fearfully to her face.

‘I did not steal—! ’ Horror looked out from her eyes as they rested on the fallen bag, from which some of the contents had spilled from the top.Stooping, Eleanor picked up a diamond and emerald ring and held it in the palm of her hand, gasping at its exquisite beauty.

‘Are you sure, Julia?’ she queried softly.

‘Yes, I am sure! I did not steal—’

‘Then where are you taking this?’ Stooping again, Eleanor picked up the rest of the jewellery which had fallen, and picking up the bag too shedropped it all inside. ‘Are these things from the jewel box?’

‘How do you know about the jewel box?’ demanded Julia, lifting her head.

Eleanor looked narrowly at her.

‘I happened to find a diamond clip which someone had dropped in the park; I put it in the jewel box, but, Julia, someone took it out—’

‘It wasn’t me!’ Julia glanced around again before letting her gaze come to rest on the bag in Eleanor’s hand. ‘I wasn’t stealing!’ She was still verywhite and yet the element of defiance remained. Eleanor had the extraordinary impression that the girl had an ace up her sleeve but was mostreluctant to use it. ‘It is best that you say nothing, Miss Salway— nothing to anyone.’

‘And let you get away with robbing your employer?’

‘I have said it is best. I did take the clip—’

‘Which you had in fact taken previously, and lost,’ intervened Eleanor, and the girl nodded her head. ‘You have an accomplice?’

‘An accomplice? The girl frowned uncomprehendingly and Eleanor explained. ‘No, I have not anyone that I sell these things to.’

‘I think,’ decided Eleanor, ‘that we shall leave this matter until Dom Miguel’s return, and he will deal with it as he thinks fit. ’

‘No!’ After the shouted word Julia went quiet, eyes darting along the corridor again. ‘It is best, Miss Salway, that you forget you have seen mewith these things.’ She came closer and said in lowering tones, ‘I have said I am not stealing, but I think you do not believe me.’

‘Most certainly I do not believe you! This bag— isn’t this proof that you are stealing?’

‘No,senhorita,it is not.’ The girl was trembling slightly, but still she appeared to possess a certain confidence, as if the card she held would beat allothers. ‘The coat? Where is it?’

‘I gave it to someone—’

‘Who paid you money for it,’ snapped Eleanor with swift contempt.

‘No one paid me,senhorita—Oh, forget all about this! Give me back the bag andforget!’

So vehement was the last word that it actually brought colour to the girl’s cheeks on its utterance. Bewildered now, Eleanor stared for a longmoment without speaking.

‘You’re quite absurd,’ she said at last, puzzled by the girl’s manner but at the same time unwilling to allow Miguel to be robbed. Yet as herthoughts flew ahead she found it difficult to imagine herself handing the bag to Miguel and telling him she had caught Julia with it. ‘It’s impossiblefor me to forget.’ A small pause. ‘Look, Julia, if you will return everything you’ve stolen and make me a solemn promise not to touch anythingagain, then I on my part will promise not to inform Dom Miguel of what I have discovered. ’

‘I cannot return what I have taken,’ said Julia in a stiff and resigned sort of tone. ‘I do not have them.’

‘You’ve sold them.’ It was a statement and she added immediately, ‘I’m sorry, but I must speak to Dom Miguel about this. It would be disloyal ofme, as an employee of his, to let you rob him like this, especially of items which, as you must know, he treasures greatly.’

‘Treasures?’ Julia’s lip twisted and for a moment she seemed to forget Eleanor’s presence altogether. ‘It is funny— yes, funny!’ And to Eleanor’sutter astonishment the girl actually began to laugh. ‘He treasures them! Madam, are you going to forget what you have seen?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous—!’

‘You’re determined to tell my master that I have stolen Dona Dora’s jewellery and her clothes—yes, a great many of her beautiful gowns and otherclothes are gone,senhorita.You’re going to tell Dom Miguel that you caught me stealing?’

Biting her lip, Eleanor hesitated. How could she tell Miguel that so many of his wife’s possessions had been stolen? On the other hand, this girl’sactivities could not be allowed to continue. Whatever she decided later, Eleanor was determined to threaten the girl. Indeed, there was no othercourse open to her, since she could not now quietly submit to the girl’s demand for silence.

‘Yes, Julia, I am going to tell Dom Miguel that I caught you stealing.’

‘That is your last word,senhorita?’

‘It is—I’m sorry. If you’d agreed to return the things—’ ‘The things,senhorita,'cut in Julia softly, ‘have gone back to their owner. ’

Silence. Eleanor’s lips parted, but no sound issued from them. A sudden pain shot through her head, throbbing in her temples; her face drained ofall colour and a dampness settled on her brow.

‘Their—their owner...?’ she whispered hoarsely.

‘Dona Dora, the wife of Dom Miguel.’ The girl’s eyes glittered; she seemed filled with hatred all at once and that ugly twist returned to her mouth.‘My mistress—my beautiful mistress whom I love! She had to go away—wasdrivenaway by her husband! I take her things to the man who hasbefriended her, and he gives them to her. And now,senhorita,are you going to forget what you have seen? I said I had not stolen anything; perhapsyou are willing to believe me now?’

Dazedly Eleanor shook her head, as if fighting to waken from a nightmare. Miguel married...

‘Dona Dora ... why did she go away?’

‘I’ve told you, she was driven away. Oh,senhorita,I have seen the way you look at Dom Miguel, for I watch many times. You think he is—what doyou say in your language? Wonderful—yes, that is what you believe, for I see this in your eyes, when I serve you sometimes at the dinner-table.Perhaps you had ideas,’ she added with a distinct sneer, ‘because you thought he was a widower. It is laughable, is it not? I shall send the messageto my beloved mistress, who is banished to a small island in Greece. She will consider it funny that an English girl thinks her husband iswonderful—’ ‘Stop it! Stop—before I slap your insolent face! Here—’ The bag was thrust at her. ‘Send it to your beloved mistress! ’ ‘Thankyou,senhorita.’ With astonishing quietness the words came, as Julia took hold of the bag. ‘You will now agree to keep silent about what you havediscovered?’ No answer from Eleanor and the girl added, ‘Of course you will, because it will upset Dom Miguel if he knows that one of his

servants is in the secret that his wife isn’t dead. You would not want to see him upset?’

‘I shall keep silent,’ returned Eleanor stiffly.

‘It is good. I will leave you,senhorita.’

Eleanor’s eyes followed and girl as she went quietly along the corridor. Miguel married...It was so hard to credit it, and yet there was no doubt atall in her mind that Julia had spoken the truth. Eleanor would have liked to know more, but the last thing she would do would be to stand there andquestion one of Miguel’s servants. Married—The word hammered incessantly at her brain, filling her with despair. No chance for her at all now.

Miguel had driven his wife away, sent her to a small Greek island. It wasn’t feasible; there was some other reason for the separation, Eleanordecided, unable to believe that the fault was Miguel’s at all. Sanches had hinted at infidelity, Eleanor recalled. He had mentioned a ‘strangerelationship’ between Dora and the man Lourenco, father of Carlota’s child. Eleanor had instantly formed a far from attractive picture of theConde’s wife, which was natural, seeing that she had in addition neglected her duty regarding the protection of her sister-in-law. So much that hadpuzzled Eleanor was explained now. Miguel had not been grieving at all, but he certainly had been bitter, and this explained his fury over theportrait. Bitterness had flared on seeing it again, after ordering it to be taken up into the attic, out of his sight. Why had he come up that day? At thetime she had believed he had actually wanted to see it, but not now. Perhaps he had heard footsteps—yes, that could be it, for the attic was rightabove his bedroom.

At last Eleanor moved on towards her own bedroom, footsteps dragging, her heart as heavy as lead itself. One thing was certain: Miguel cared forher, and that was the reason for his insistence that she stay at the Palacio. But how did he think it was all going to end? There never could be adivorce, and in any case, everyone believed Dora to be dead, even Carlota. Eleanor frowningly shook her head as she opened her door and enteredher room. It was incredible that he could carry off such a scheme ... and even more incredible that he would even think of doing so. It was with hiswife’s co-operation, evidently, so it appeared that she did not mind that everyone believed she was dead. This meant she was never coming back,and for one brief moment Eleanor’s spirits lifted, but she was instantly cast down again on reminding herself that there could never be a divorce.Swiftly on this deduction came the thought of the man who had befriended Dora. He was the same man she had seen in the park, obviously, and hehad been accepting Dora’s belongings from Julia. The clip had been dropped, and it suddenly struck Eleanor that much jewellery must have beenhanded over if a piece like this was not missed.

There was so much she did not know, thought Eleanor. And she never would know any more; she had no wish to, and in any case, she was nowdetermined to leave Portugal immediately after the departure of Carlota, which would be on her wedding day. The following morning Eleanorwould also leave, no matter how strong her employer’s persuasions might be.

Miguel had returned when she went downstairs half an hour later and she joined him for afternoon tea.

‘Carlota and Sanches are still out,’ she said as his brow lifted in a preliminary gesture of inquiry.

‘You ... you’re very pale; are you not feeling well?’

She stood in silence for a moment.

‘I’m feeling quite well,’ she returned stiffly at length, and a frown came to his brow.

‘Something’s wrong—I can see it in your face.’

She glanced fearfully at him, and shook her head vigorously.

‘There’s nothing wrong. I don’t know why you should think there was.’ She endeavoured to inject a lightness into her voice, but his studiedpiercing gaze underwent no change, and Eleanor was impelled to avert her head, in order to avoid it.

‘Nothing wrong...?’ After an undecided moment he shrugged. ‘Then we must leave it at that. Sit down, dear, and perhaps a nice cup of tea will dosomething to relieve your most unnatural pallor. ’ Subtle words, and she glanced swiftly at him, colouring prettily.

‘I—I’ve had a slight headache—’ she began, when the commanding lift of a finger cut her short.

‘No need to find excuses, Eleanor. I’ve said we’ll let the matter drop. Are you going to pour the tea?’

‘Yes—’ An awkwardness assailed her because of his interruption, which revealed his knowledge of her lie. He watched her as she poured the tea

from a silver pot, while she, still feeling awkward, refused to meet his gaze.

‘I have to go away for a day or two,’ he murmured a short while later, his face suddenly taking on a masklike expression. ‘It will be early nextweek.’

She looked at him in surprise.

‘So soon before Carlota’s wedding?’ she said impulsively, and only then realized she ought not to have commented at all. However, Miguel madeno sign that he considered she had spoken out of turn; on the contrary, he smiled fleetingly at her before the mask dropped again.

‘It’s vitally necessary.’ His eyes were fixed on the vortex in his cup as he absently stirred his tea. ‘I shall have a long talk with you before I go, sothat you can take on the supervision where I leave off—’

‘Oh, but... ’ She shook her head vigorously. ‘I can’t, Miguel—and besides, neither the workmen nor your staff will take orders from me.’

‘You can—and they will,’ he declared promptly. ‘I shall arrange all this before I go. Don’t look so scared, child. I should never leave you in chargeunless I was confident of your ability to see that my instructions are carried out. ’

‘Thank you,’ she murmured shyly, gratified by his trust while at the same time experiencing some measure of trepidation at the idea of shoulderingso great a responsibility. So much was being done at one and the same time, both inside the house and out. ‘I hope I shan’t disappoint you.’

His smile returned.

‘You’ll not disappoint me, Eleanor.’ So soft the words— almost a caress, and her heart seemed to turn right over, but not with excitement orpleasure. No, it was sheer misery that engulfed her, and yet somehow she managed to maintain a perfectly unmoved composure. And she managedto respond to his smile, and thank him once again for his confidence in her. Yet uppermost in her mind at this present time was her vow to leavethe Palacio as soon as Carlota married. Clearly Miguel would be upset, and he would endeavour to inflict his will upon her again, but she must befirm. There was no future in being in love with a married man; she could never agree to an affair, and in fact she knew full well that so sordid abusiness would never appeal to Miguel either. She felt instinctively that he had no definite plan in mind at all just now; he merely knew that hedesired Eleanor to remain near to him.

The night before his departure he and Eleanor sat up very late, Eleanor receiving his instructions and writing everything down in a methodicalmanner so that she would make no mistakes. At last it was all done and with a sudden smile he said,

‘You must be tired. Do you want to go to bed at once?—or will you stay and have a drink with me?’

‘I’ll stay and have a drink.’ The reply came spontaneously and the expression in his eyes thanked her. ‘It’s such a lovely night, so can we have iton the verandah?’

‘Of course; I was about to suggest just that.’

During the past hour or so he had appeared to have something on his mind, even though outwardly he was concentrating on the task of givingEleanor all instructions, slowly, so that she could make her notes. Now, however, he seemed free of whatever held him, and although it wasnearing midnight when they had finished their drink he talked on, completely relaxed, and appearing to be happier than she had ever seen him.

‘I don’t suppose you’d care to walk with me?’ he invited, looking doubtfully at her. They had both risen and Eleanor had opened her mouth to saygood night. ‘No, dear, you’re far too tired...?’

Readily she denied this, and after they had been walking for a minute or two Miguel took hold of her arm and drew it through his. Her heartthrobbed far too quickly; she ought to have refused his invitation, she told herself even before, stopping by a tree-embowered lake, he took her facein his hands and kissed her gently on the lips.

‘Miguel,’ she whispered, ‘you shouldn’t...’

‘Why not?’ A firm demand in his tone, and his eyes searched hers in the moonlight. She would have lowered her head, but his grip of mastery heldit high. ‘What reason have you for saying a thing like that?’

‘No reason,’ she faltered, regretting that impulsive whisper, and to her relief he decided not to pursue the matter.

‘I shall miss you, my dear. Tell me, shall you miss me?’ Her mouth trembled; she had no strength to tell him an

untruth, even though she was admitting that the scene was too intimate by far and that she ought prudently to end it by a dissembling note.

‘Yes, Miguel, I shall miss you.’

His eyes kindled, and they searched. He said, on a note of humility which was inordinately out of place, ‘Thank you, Eleanor, for saying that,’ anda deep and prolonged sigh escaped him. This was a man vastly different from the arrogant Conde whom she had known at the beginning, andEleanor was once more reminded of her conviction that he could be quite human, once one got to know him. The veneer of superiority wouldalways be there, since it was an innate part of him, inherited from a long line of aristocratic forebears bearing a noble name in Portuguese history,but underneath he was a man who could give love, generously, unstintingly, and if a fair degree of mastery attended that love, then this would onlyenhance its attraction for the recipient. To be his wife would be heaven, decided Eleanor, and wondered how anyone so fortunate as Dora couldhave run the risk of losing him.

Having removed his hands from her face Miguel took her hand as they began to stroll on again. They remained silent for a while, Miguel remoteall at once, as if totally immersed in private thought, and Eleanor trying to crush the stimulation of nerves and senses which his nearness set inmotion. The night was too suggestive of romance, with moonlight picking out the fountains and the lakes, transforming them to silver. It shone onthe elaborately-carved facade of the Palacio, accentuating that essence of ancestral grandeur which it possessed. The large imposing windows anddoors were highlighted, while the stone balconies on to which they led were mellowed by the shadows cast by vines and bougainvillaeas and othersemi-tropical climbers which embellished the massive pillars. High above, the huge armorial crest lorded it over all, as was fitting.

‘Getting tired?’ Miguel’s voice, soft and almost tender. It drifted through the deep silence like the caress of a summer breeze. ‘Shall we go back?’

Automatically she shook her head. Dangerous it might be, but she could stay out here all night.

‘I’m not a bit tired—’ She cut off, aware of her eagerness. ‘The—the air’s so clear and fresh. It wakes you up.’

Nothing was lost on him, she thought, glancing into his face. A half-smile lay on his mouth, and in his eyes a hint of amusement gleamed. She wasaware of a tiny increase of pressure on her hand, and had the almost irrepressible urge to reciprocate by curling her fingers around his.

‘So you’ve wakened up? I agree our air’s refreshing, especially at night. But wait until the spring ... the air’s like elixir then. And the light is lucidand soft, with that particular translucent quality one expects to find only in Greece. The hills are blue in spring, Eleanor, and the meadows vividgreen. It’s a delight, with everything so lush—the orchards and olive groves, the neat vineyards, and the cottages literally dripping with flowers.’He paused, but she was thinking that she would never see the spring in Portugal. ‘You’ll love my country then, and be glad you decided to stay. ’

So confident that she would honour her promise. Eleanor lowered her head, wondering how on earth she was to inform him of her change of mind,and that she intended leaving him after Carlota’s wedding. But that was in the future, she thought; for now, she had the opportunity of forgettingeverything that must happen in the future, and snatching a brief interlude of happiness, of having Miguel all to herself.

‘I suppose there are great differences between the north and south of the country,’ she remarked conversationally after a short silence. ‘Imean—Portugal is about three hundred and fifty miles long, so there must be differences.’ ‘Of course. The wild flowers in particular are varied. Inthe south we have the vivid scarlets of the poppies and the lovely white blossoms of the moon-daisies, and the most charming blue of the wildanchusa. In the north, above the Douro River we have flora similar to that in Scotland, with broom growing everywhere, and of course, heather.’

He talked on as they strolled towards a terrace where granite seats lined the walls. From here they had a magnificent view of the Serra on one sideand the coastal plain and the sea on the other. Miguel stopped, retaining Eleanor’s hand, and for a long moment stared, in a sort of faraway silence,at the single light shining from one of the cottages clinging to the wooded side of the Serra. But from the Quinta de Romingos more brilliantilluminations spanned the distance. This noblecasawas owned by the Visconde de Romingos who, like Miguel, belonged to the class which,privileged by birth and inheritance, owned all the wonderfulquintasin and around Sintra. Some of these families lived here in the summer only,Eleanor had learned, for the winter could be cool and damp, with mists curling over the Serra, which naturally attracted them.

‘I think it is time we went back.’ The decision came reluctantly from Miguel’s lips; there was a sudden dejection about him that was reflected inhis voice. What were his thoughts? Eleanor wondered, herself attracting his mood as she felt the full impact of a lonely, hopeless sequel to this stayin Portugal. Was it his wife who occupied his mind at this moment? Did he wish for freedom?—or was he recalling all the happier times ... andwishing for a return of them? While it was apparent that he was bitter about whatever his wife had done to him, and while it was also apparent thathe was attracted to Eleanor, he could still be yearning—if only subconsciously—for a reconciliation with the beautiful wife who, according to

Julia, he had driven away. This Eleanor did not believe. For one thing, the Conde’s character was such that she knew without doubt he wouldhonour that pledge ‘for better, for worse’. Dora had gone off for a holiday, Carlota had said, and Eleanor believed this. Miguel was called to her...By Eleanor’s deductions—which she admitted might be wrong—it seemed that Miguel had been informed by his wife that she was never comingback. That this came as a shock was certain, since Carlota had described him as being in a daze, and a madman. As to why Miguel had decided totell everyone, including his sister, that Dora was dead, was something for which Eleanor could find no explanation at all. It seemed to be such arisk—the sort of risk that would be the very last she would have expected Miguel to take. Had he been under some sort of pressure? she wonderedas the idea suddenly crossed her mind. That could certainly be the explanation, although much as she racked her brain, Eleanor could not think ofwhat such a pressure could be. ‘Yes,’ Miguel was murmuring into her pensive mood, ‘we must go back. I have to be up early in the morning.’Turning as he spoke, he gazed down into Eleanor’s eyes. ‘I have a plane to catch at half-past eight.’

‘A plane?’ She had concluded that he was going to one of his other estates.

He nodded, and she gained the impression that the mention of a plane had been a slip.

‘I’m going abroad,’ was all he said, but later, as they began strolling back across the park, he said, rather too casually, ‘There’s no need to mentionmy going abroad to Carlota. She’s probably taken it for granted that I’m going to Portalegre—if she has given the matter a thought at all,’ he addedwith a faint smile. ‘The child’s out of this world half her time these days.’

At this Eleanor forced a small laugh, making a light remark that, with her wedding so close, it was only to be expected that Carlota would betotally wrapped up in her own affairs. But underneath the lightness Eleanor was wondering where Miguel could be going. Of a certainty it was nota holiday that was taking him abroad, simply because this was not the time for thinking of holidays, not when all the prewedding activity wasabsorbing every single person at the

Palacio. Besides, Miguel had said he would be away only for a day or two.

An idea began to push itself into the forefront of her mind. Miguel was going to Greece.

CHAPTER TEN

With this conviction eventually becoming firmly fixed in her mind Eleanor was plunged into a state of utter dejection. That Miguel had gone toGreece to sound out his wife about the possibility of a divorce seemed more than feasible, especially in view of his having told Eleanor to leavematters as they werefor the present—this latter being the significant phrase. But it did not require much stretching of the imagination to conjure upa picture of reconciliation between the superlatively beautiful Dora and her husband. She must surely desire a return to the luxury and status of herformer position and in consequence would undoubtedly use her wiles to achieve this. Miguel had worshipped her ... so it was almost inevitable thathe would succumb—and gladly. Eleanor, whom he had liked quite a lot, would fade from his dazzled vision and a reunion would take place. Howthis was to be achieved, with Dora supposed to be dead, Eleanor could not conceive, but she was sure that all difficulties would be overcome.

The acceptance of her own personal inadequacy made the acceptance of defeat less difficult to bear; it was the idea of being ‘the other woman’ thatwas so repugnant. She felt guilty, though no crime had been committed; she squirmed inwardly and would have given ten years of her life to beable at this moment to go somewhere and hide or, better still, to go home to England. As this was impossible she had no alternative than to containher patience, and to put on a front that would deceive her young charge. And so she was laughing with her when Sanches appeared, havingtelephoned yesterday asking Miguel if he might come over to see his beloved. Eleanor and Carlota were having tea in the salon and for a momentSanches stood in the doorway, looking extremely handsome, though youthfully so.

‘A most charming picture,’ he said gallantly, ‘and a happy one. I trust, my dear Carlota, that I myself might in some

small way be responsible for your happiness?’

She blushed adorably and lowered her long dark lashes.

‘In a very large way,’ she returned, pulling a bell-rope at her elbow. ‘You’re just in time for tea.’

‘So I perceive,’ with some amusement as Carlota kept her lashes lowered. ‘I am ready for it,’ he added when she failed to speak.

Presently Eleanor left them alone and went to see what the workmen had been doing in the Great Hall. They were fixing to the ceiling several largeglass balls formed of hundreds of sequin-like mirrors. These balls would rotate while the dancing was taking place, the main lights of the Hallbeing extinguished, leaving only a few shaded ones, the reflection of which would catch the mirrors as the balls turned. Eleanor consulted her

instruction notes and frowned.

‘There should be eight of these—four on each side—and a larger one in the centre,’ she said.

Only one of the men could speak English and he translated for the foreman. A moment later he was saying,

‘The large one was broken, and so we are putting three on each side, one in the centre, and one over the platform where the musicians will beplaying.’

Eleanor shook her head emphatically. She knew the Conde well enough by now to be sure that what he wanted he would have.

‘How did the large one come to get broken?’

A silence followed before the man said,

‘We dropped it,senhorita. ’

‘Then you must have another one made—’

‘But the cost is very great,senhorita.’

‘Never mind that. Get in touch with the firm at once and order another. ’

The man turned to his foreman, who nodded presently and gave an order. The men stopped work and he gave them fresh orders. When Eleanor leftthe men were preparing to undo the work they had spent the whole of the morning, and most

of the afternoon, doing.

She sighed, wondering if she should merely have stopped the work, putting the men on to something else until Miguel’s return.

But she need not have worried; when told what she had done he said she was right. He looked dreadfully tired and depressed, she thought, andwondered what had happened. Clearly there had been no reconciliation and she began to think that perhaps she had made a mistake in jumping tothe conclusion that he had been to see his wife. After all, she had nothing on which to go except her intuition.

He arrived very late at night and Carlota had gone to bed. But Eleanor, affected by some compulsive force, had waited up, knowing he would beback some time around midnight. He seemed surprised at seeing her sitting there in the small sitting-room, but he appeared impatient, somehow,and she gained the impression that he would have preferred not to see her that night. This was borne out when, after listening for five minutes or soto what she had to tell him about the work, he stifled a yawn and said he was going to bed.

The wedding was the main topic of conversation for miles around as, Eleanor surmised, Miguel’s own had been several years earlier. Carlota was avision of sheer loveliness in her flowing white gown and many gasps were heard as she entered the church on her brother’s arm. So noble theyboth looked, and the Conde was so proud and distinguished. Eleanor, herself looking very lovely in her bridesmaid’s dress of beryl-coloured velvetwith pink accessories, caught her breath in admiration. And, later, she caught his glance ... and saw with some astonishment that his eyes darkenedand his mouth went tight. And then he looked away and watching his profile she saw a nerve working spasmodically in the side of his jaw. Heseemed suddenly to have been affected by a spasm of pain that was reflected in a fleeting moment of anger.

She swallowed hard to clear her throat of the hurt that had lodged there. The days following his return had not been happy ones for her. He hadretreated into himself; had completely withdrawn from her. They were right back at the beginning. He never talked directly to her unless it wasnecessary and if he found himself alone with her he would instantly rise from his chair and say he had work to do in his study. Eleanor had theimpression that he wanted her to lose interest in him ... and it came to her suddenly that he actually wanted her to go home when the wedding wasover.

Bewildered and dreadfully unhappy, she had wept in the privacy of her room, and on one occasion he had noticed evidence of this but made nocomment. She had looked at him, but he avoided her gaze, turning abruptly away. But she felt instinctively that he too was unhappy and she longedto talk to him and discover what was wrong. She dared not, though, for she was acutely conscious now that she was regarded as nothing more thanan employee, the girl who had come to Portugal as the paid companion of his sister.

She sat next to him at the reception, and his manner for this one special occasion was relaxed, friendly. He spoke smilingly to her and later when

the dancing started he claimed her for several dances.

‘May I take this opportunity of saying how beautiful you are today, Eleanor?’ Stiff, just a little, and she continued to gaze at the lapel of his coat. Itwas their first dance and she felt shy all at once, and poignantly aware of his nearness and his magnetism ... and the fact that the memories gatheredon this occasion must last her a very, very long time. ‘Have you nothing to say, my dear?’

My dear. ... He had not said that since his return; it hurt now and she realized her lips were trembling. ‘There—there isn’t anything t-to say.’

His arm tightened; she felt that he fully understood how she was—unhappy and bewildered. But all he said was,

‘No, Eleanor dear, there isn’t anything to say.’

She looked up swiftly, blinking in order to keep back the ready tears.

‘You’re so strange, Miguel,’ she whispered, not really meaning to say anything like this, yet urged by an irresistible desire to bring him out, tomake him talk to her and explain what had happened to bring about the change in him. ‘I—I don’t understand you at all.’ He sighed deeply andshook his head. And without another word he swung her from the outer edge of the Hall into the centre, so that they were no longer separated fromthe rest of the dancers.

Sanches claimed Eleanor later in the evening and said, bending his head,

‘Thank you, dear Eleanor, for helping us. I shall never forget.’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ she protested, but he shook his head.

‘I shall always remember that it was due to you that Carlota and I were able to marry,’ he went on as if the interruption had never occurred, ‘and ifever the time should come when I can repay you, Eleanor, then you can be sure I shall—no matter when it is, or how much trouble it costs me.’ Hespoke with vibrant sincerity, as if he actually hoped the day would come when he could repay her. She merely smiled and thanked him, knowingthat no such occasion was ever likely to arise.

The couple caught the midnight plane from Lisbon, their ultimate destination being Mexico, where they were to honeymoon in a lovely mansionlent to them by one of Sanches’ uncles who was at present visiting relatives in the United States.

‘How flat everything goes when the bride and groom leave a wedding-party.’ Miguel was dancing with Eleanor again and this time she managed tospeak in her normal voice, unhampered by the tightness which had affected her throat for almost the whole of the evening.

‘It was a wonderful celebration, Miguel. You are an expert

organiser. ’

‘Experience,’ he returned rather carelessly. ‘We often have large and important parties.’

She nodded against his shoulder.

‘I believe Christmas in Portugal is really something to remember. ’ Especially in the home of a greathidalgolike Miguel, she added, but to herself,naturally.

‘Christmas...’ The word seemed to emerge with bitterness. But then he said, ‘Yes, Eleanor, we do have a rather exceptional way of keepingChristmas.’

‘I shall not be here.’ She had to say the words, just to know what his reaction would be. This reaction took the life right out of her and she wishedwith all her heart that she had kept silent, and allowed herself a little more time to collect her pitiful store of memories.

‘You’re determined to leave, then?’ without protest or persuasion.

She lifted a white face and replied unsteadily,

‘Yes, Miguel, I’m determined to leave.’

‘In that case, I have nothing to say, except of course that I thank you for coming, and for—for everything.’ His voice caught and with an almost

violent movement he swung Eleanor off the floor. The music stopped at that moment, saving them both embarrassment. It was the last dance. Theparty was over.

Spring was well under way and Eleanor had the children out for a nature walk. They were collecting wild flowers and herbs from along the riverbank and her eyes and senses were fully alert.

‘Susan, keep away from the edge.’

‘I can swim, Miss Salway—if I fall in, I mean.’

‘It will be far simpler not to fall in.’

Susan laughed and moved away from the edge.

‘It sort of tempts you, doesn’t it, Miss Salway?’ from Stephen, who was grinning mischievously as he took slow

and deliberate steps towards the river.

‘In that case,’ decided Eleanor, ‘we’ll leave the river and go farther into the field. ’

‘Oh no!’ from a chorus of voices. ‘Stop it, Sue and Steve!’ shouted Avril crossly. ‘We’re not all going to be punished because of you two sillythings!’

Half an hour later, loaded with flowers and herbs and grasses, they all returned to school.

‘Playtime! Goody!’ Avril dumped her treasures on her desk and ran from the classroom. The other children followed suit, joining the rest of theschool in the playground. Eleanor went along to the staff-room and sat down in a big armchair. The headmaster smiled at her and asked about thenature walk.

‘You didn’t bring back any corpses, I hope?’

She smiled obligingly and shook her head. It wasn’t unusual for this comment to be made when a teacher took her children out.

She was handed a cup of tea and offered biscuits by a senior girl whose turn it was to see to the tea that particular week. It was funny, musedEleanor, watching her pass the biscuits round, how the girls loved doing this task. They’d have grumbled if asked at home to do a chore when theycould have been outside, playing. But children were like that, and mothers always laughingly complained that their little Johnny or Mary would domore for their teacher than for their mother.

Her thoughts strayed, as they so often did, to Portugal, and the Conde.

What was he doing now, at this very moment? Sometimes she felt strangely drawn to him, as if by telepathy he would have her know that he cared.He had explained nothing, but had let her go, two days after the wedding. He had taken her himself to the airport, stopping the car in a quiet lanebefore entering Lisbon. Turning, he had gathered her gently to him, and she felt his heart throbbing just as violently as her own.

His lips found hers and they were so very gentle, and tender. ‘Just a goodbye kiss, my very dear Eleanor,’ he whispered, and, releasing her, hedrove on to the airport.

She thought she knew what had happened. He had asked Dora about a divorce and she had refused. This seemed to rule out the idea of infidelitywhich had previously crossed Eleanor’s mind. It created a puzzle also, the puzzle of why the separation had occurred in the first place. But as therewas nothing to be gained by attempting to solve this Eleanor did her best to put it from her. She must forget the Conde Ramiro Vicente Miguel deCastro just as quickly as she could. He wasn’t for her.

Forgetting wasn’t easy; she knew it would not be. But she threw herself into her work, having taken a post up in Northumberland—a long wayfrom where Terry Kershawe was living, for during the few days when she had stayed with her cousin she had, to her disgust, twice bumped intohim.

Carlota had wanted to correspond and so Eleanor agreed, unable to find any way of telling her that she would prefer to make a clean break.However, letters were few and far between, and this was mainly Eleanor’s fault. She allowed weeks to elapse between receiving a letter andreplying to it. Eventually she and Carlota would cease corresponding altogether.

Eleanor arrived home before Jean, with whom she shared a flat, for Jean worked in an office and didn’t leave until five o’clock. So Eleanor madethe meal, which she always had ready for about six. After they had eaten Jean saw to the dishes and Eleanor usually began marking her books. Itwas a regular routine, and dull, but Eleanor became fairly content despite the fact of her love for Miguel, which to her dismay showed no signs atall of declining with the passing of time, or even becoming less intrusive. It was always with her for every wakeful moment. In the classroom shewas ever subconsciously aware of the ache within her, though outwardly she was giving all her attention to the children, of

whom she had thirty-two in her charge.

She had just got in that afternoon when the doorbell rang and on opening it she stared, dumbfounded, at the tall slim figure of Carlota’s husband.

‘Don’t look so scared,’ he said at once. ‘There’s nothing wrong. Can I come in?’ he added with a hint of amusement as she continued to stare.

‘Yes—of c-course.’ Her heart was thudding. ‘Why have you come?’ she asked even before he had been shown into the sitting-room.

‘I said I’d repay you if ever I could,’ he began, and continued in spite of the swift impatient lifting of her hand, ‘and now I believe I can repay you.Eleanor, will you answer me one question first? Do you love Miguel?’

‘Sanches,’ she quivered, ‘why have you come here?’

‘To help you in the way you helped me,’ he answered soberly. ‘You are in love with my brother-in-law, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she replied simply, wondering if the colour had left her cheeks, as she felt sure it had.

‘It is good, then. Had you not loved him then my journey would have been wasted. Eleanor, do you know that he loves you?’

She brought her lips together tightly, to stop their trembling.

‘Please tell me quickly, Sanches. What is this all about?’

‘You knew he was married—that Dora was still alive, didn’t you?’

Consternation took the place of the misery in her eyes.

‘It’s come out? Everyone knows? Oh, poor Miguel! ’

‘She’s dead, Eleanor,’ he intervened quietly.

‘Dead? His wife is d-dead?’ The beautiful creature of the portrait—young, endowed with all that nature could give. This was all that occupiedEleanor’s thoughts and it was only afterwards that she wondered why she hadn’t grasped at once just what this meant to Miguel and herself. ‘Howdid it

happen, Sanches?’ she queried dazedly.

‘An accident. And in the car were Lourenco and a maid of Miguel’s who had left him and gone to live with Dora.’

‘Julia! She left—?’ But that was not surprising. She had said she loved her former mistress. ‘Lourenco ...’ murmured Eleanor. ‘Lourenco too?’

‘He was living with Dora.’ Sanches betrayed not a trace of emotion. On the contrary, he was coldly dispassionate and immediately went on to sayit was fate that the three had gone together, as no one but Miguel’s own family was in the secret now. Miguel’s own family. Only then did it allregister and Eleanor sank down in a chair, offering a belated invitation to her visitor to do likewise.

And during the next five minutes or so she learned a great deal from Sanches.

‘There’s much to tell,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘And I suggest you leave your questions till the end?’ She nodded dazedly and hecontinued, ‘I’ll begin at the beginning, only in the way I saw it, and fill in the rest later.’ He went on to say that a couple of months after Eleanorhad left he and Carlota went to stay at the Palacio for a few days. He and Miguel had been alone on one occasion when, bringing a slim leatherwallet from his pocket, Miguel dropped something. ‘I picked it up,’ said Sanches, ‘and to my amazement saw that it was a snapshot of you. Carlotahad taken it, apparently. ’ Eleanor nodded, her heart stirring slightly at the knowledge of Miguel’s carrying her photograph about with him. ‘Miguel looked a trifle embarrassed but he was very cool by the time he accepted it from me and returned it to his wallet. I naturally mentioned thisto Carlota, asking if she had noticed whether you yourself had ever betrayed the fact that you cared for her brother. She said no, and I naturally

concluded that Miguel had declared his love, was told it wasn’t reciprocated, and that this was the natural explanation for your hasty departure,which neither Carlota nor I could understand at the time.’

He paused then as if he would give her the chance to comment, but she remained silent, impatient for the rest of the story. ‘The next thing thathappened was at Christmas. We were at the Palacio again and one day we walked in on the most dreadful scene imaginable. Julia, one of Miguel’smaids, had been caught stealing money from his room, where, it seems, he keeps fairly large sums, having to pay the staff and find money for otherexpenses. Miguel was white, Eleanor, and I thought he would kill the girl. Carlota and I would have withdrawn, but we had already heard Juliatalking about Dora and we knew she was still alive. We just stood there, dumbfounded, and when eventually I said we would leave Miguel told usto stay; as we had heard so much, we might as well hear the rest. Well, I gathered that Miguel had given Julia her dismissal, before we entered, andthat Julia had turned on him and told him she was in touch with his wife, and that if Miguel didn’t watch himself she would come out with all sheknew and make a scandal for him. Can you imagine any servant talking like that to Miguel?’

Eleanor shook her head.

‘How very dreadful for him, having to bargain with anyone like Julia! ’

‘The girl confessed to having taken clothes and jewellery from her former mistress’s room and passing them to Lourenco, who flew over to receivethem. This had happened several times, apparently, and it would seem that despite the money which both Dora and Lourenco were receiving fromMiguel they weren’t managing. I suspect the jewellery was sold. Julia got a small payment for her part. She told Miguel that you knew about hiswife’s being alive—’ Sanches stopped, appearing unable to continue for a space. ‘Miguel’s face was dreadful to see, Eleanor. He hadn’t told youhimself, you see, and he said afterwards that you must be hating him for his deception.’

‘Hate...? Indeed no.’

‘I should have thought the same, had I deceived the woman I loved, so I can imagine Miguel’s anguish,’ Sanches went on. He then said thatMiguel had been forced to pay the girl a large sum of money in return for her silence but told her definitely that she wasn’t staying at the Palacio.She left immediately after Christmas and went to join her mistress and her lover on this small Greek island where they had bought a house.’Sanches then said, looking oddly at Eleanor, ‘Apparently this Julia jeered at Miguel before we entered and said something about having sent wordto her mistress that Carlota’s English companion had fallen in love with him. How did she know that?’

‘She guessed.’ Eleanor blushed, but composedly filled in for Sanches, telling him how she had tackled Julia. ‘It was then, of course, that she cameout with the information that Dora was still alive. So I was forced to keep silent about her taking things from Dora’s bedroom.’ She looked atSanches across the small distance separating them. ‘Did Miguel tell you she had jeered at him?’ she queried in surprise, but Sanches was shakinghis head.

‘No, we gathered that she had though because as she left the room she turned at the door and said, a vile twist to her insolent mouth, “I will now beable to tell Dona Dora myself about the little English girl who fell in love with you! She will think it very funny—as I’ve already told you she did,in her letter to me. She said she had a good laugh!” I thought Miguel would strangle the girl, Eleanor, and indeed I’m thankful we were there, for ifhe had done her an injury he’d have damaged his reputation completely. Yes,’ he added with a slight shiver, ‘I’m thankful we were there.’

‘Did Miguel confide in you fully after that?’

‘He told us everything, and a nasty story it is, Eleanor.’

She learned how Miguel, forced to travel round to his other estates, had wanted to take Dora and Carlota with him but Dora refused, so he leftCarlota in her care.

‘Their relationship became strained because Miguel felt that she should have wanted to be with him all the while— perhaps it’s an old-fashionedidea,’ added Sanches with a thin, deprecating smile, ‘but I’d feel like that myself. If Carlota refused I should feel dreadfully hurt.’ Eleanor noddedabsently and he continued, ‘Miguel admitted that his love waned, but said that he married Dora for love. This I know is true, for she wascomparatively poor, so it wasn’t one of our “convenient” marriages that so often takes place between people of the nobility. ’

Sanches went on to inform Eleanor that one of Dora’s lovers began blackmailing her, threatening not only to go to Miguel, but also to spread it farand wide that they had been lovers, going off to stay at a small hotel in Rio Tinto when Miguel was away from home. This man had really bledDora, every penny of her inheritance from her father changing hands within a few months. ‘The man wanted more and she began selling jewellerywhich was in fact family heirlooms and which Miguel never missed until later, as the jewellery had always been passed on to the wife of the eldest

son and Miguel had naturally passed it to Dora on their marriage. At last Dora escaped to Greece, telling Miguel she was going to stay for a whilewith an old school friend who had bought a villa there. In fact, she was joined by Lourenco, and between them they bought a house. Dora then sentfor Miguel and told him everything, just as I have related it to you—’

‘Everything! How awful for him to hear all that!’ Unconsciously she wrung her hands; she seemed not to be an important part of this unfoldingdrama, but merely an onlooker, remote from the stage.

‘Yes, how awful,’ agreed Sanches grimly. ‘Imagine listening to a confession like that from your wife. She then told Miguel that he was to let it beknown that she had died, and been buried, on the island, as she couldn’t go on any longer being blackmailed. ’

‘Miguel wouldn’t agree to that!’

A tense silence followed before Sanches said, between clenched teeth,

‘Miguel had no alternative. She threatened to tell everyone that Carlota was having a baby.’

‘She—’ A deep hush fell on the room, while Eleanor just stared, trying to assimilate the fact that a woman as innocent-looking as Dora couldconceive of so invidious a bargain. ‘It—it seems impossible,’ she breathed at last, and her companion nodded grimly in agreement.

‘Dora demanded a large allowance for herself, and an increase in the allowance that Lourenco was already receiving. This Miguel agreed to pay.’

Eleanor frowned.

‘But the man couldn’t have blackmailed her any longer, because she had confessed all to her husband.’

‘He had threatened to spread it far and wide, remember. No, Eleanor, there was nothing else Miguel could do but agree. Dora made it absolutelyclear that she was cutting right away from her old life. She told him Lourenco had been her lover before marriage and she wanted him again now. ’

‘No wonder Miguel looked so murderous when I—’ She broke off, but it was too late. Sanches obviously expected her to elaborate and she toldhim about the space in the portrait gallery and Miguel’s reaction when she mentioned it. She also told Sanches about the scene in the attic. ‘Somuch is explained now,’ she added, recalling how she had wondered if Miguel had agreed to the deception under pressure. Her vague suspicionshad turned out to be correct. ‘It must have been dreadful for Miguel, having to live a lie,’ she added, speaking her thoughts aloud.

‘Indeed, yes,’ fervently. ‘He’s gone through hell, but fate has taken a hand and he’s free.’

‘Free—’ She looked at Sanches and her eyes were very bright. ‘There’s a little bit more,’ she told him, and he smiled and said,

‘He went over to this island a short while before our wedding—he told me he just had to know if Dora would agree to a divorce.Hecould havedivorcedherquite easily, of course, but owing to the deception it would have to be done extremely quietly. Dora refused to be a party to any quietdivorce. She knew about you from Julia and wasn’t going to let Miguel have his freedom so that he could remarry.’

‘It’s scarcely believable,’ cried Eleanor. ‘How could anyone be so selfish and wicked! ’

‘When a woman is bad, she is worse than ten bad men put together,’ declared Sanches with conviction. ‘She was a fiend with a superlativelybeautiful veneer. ’

‘I see now why Miguel changed his mind about my staying in Portugal.’ He had asked her to stay, she explained when Sanches threw her aninterrogating glance. ‘But after he’d been away I saw a change in him; I knew instinctively that he wanted me to leave after the wedding. When Itold him I was going he made no demur—’ She broke off, her voice faltering. ‘It was awful, Sanches, b-because I l-loved him so. You see, I didn’tunderstand anything, but I do now. Thank you,’ she ended simply, and asked the obvious question, which, although it had been hovering on herlips almost from the start, had not been voiced owing to lack of opportunity as the narrative progressed. ‘Dora ... how long has she been dead?’

‘Just a fortnight. Dora wasn’t killed outright, though the others were. She managed to telephone Miguel from hospital, but although he wentimmediately she was dead when he got there. He had to arrange for all the funerals, and he’s had to go over again—he’s there now—to see to thedisposal of Dora’s belongings. The house was in her name, apparently, but he’s employed a lawyer to see to making it over to a young Greekcouple who were working for Dora and Lourenco—gardening and seeing to the house generally. Julia, it seems, was acting as lady’s maid.’

‘It’s generous of Miguel to give the house away.’

‘The couple are very poor, and were living in a tin shack at the bottom of the garden. I expect they’re lighting candles every day to St. Nicolas andSt. Andreas and the rest,’ he ended, on the lightest note spoken since his arrival.

‘You’ve come over here to tell me all this,’ she said after a long moment of thought that had eventually left her frowning. ‘But Miguel ... is hecoming, later?’

‘ I asked him this as soon as he told us Dora was dead. He seemed dreadfully downcast, saying you could never forgive him for treating you sobadly—’

‘Treating me badly?’

‘Deceiving you; he said there was no excuse, that he should have taken you into his confidence. Also, he said he’d hurt you abominably by lettingyou go so easily—’

‘But he had to—when his wife refused the divorce. He knew there was no future for us.’ She shook her head indignantly, just as if Miguel werehere to see her reaction to this self-condemnation. ‘He mustn’t blame himself for that.’ Sanches gave a shrug.

‘He said you couldn’t possibly love him now, not after the way he’d treated you. Perhaps he would have changed his mind eventually, but I wantedto be the one to bring you together, so I told Carlota we were coming over here to tell you everything. Then this morning she woke up with themost dreadful cold and her head was aching. I said I’d wait, but she insisted I come on my own. It would be the nicest thing if, when Miguelreturned, he found you at the Palacio, she said. So here I am. I catch the midnight plane back to Portugal. Are you coming with me?’

‘He thinks I don’t love him?’ she asked incredulously, forgetting his question. ‘Surely he knows I couldn’t stop loving him, just like that.’

‘You haven’t written much to Carlota, and she mentioned this to Miguel. He seemed to think that you wanted to make a

clean break with the Palacio and the people you’d associated with in it.’

She shook her head, feeling somewhat puzzled by this reluctance of Miguel’s to come to her. Deciding that it must be pride which was holding himback she felt a strange disappointment in him, but she could not allow her chances of happiness to slip away by bringing her own pride into play atthis time.

‘When will he be back?’ she asked, and was told he was expected to return on Saturday afternoon. ‘In that case, I’ll see if there’s a plane onSaturday morning. I don’t want to be there when he returns—not to arrive before him, I mean, because it doesn’t seem quite the thing for me toenter the Palacio in his absence.’ She lifted a hand as Sanches would have made a protest. ‘It isn’t,’ she insisted. ‘If there’s a plane I shall arrive atthe Palacio about teatime. I shall arrange it like that, staying a while in Lisbon if necessary. ’ She went on to say that the school half-term breakwas on Monday and Tuesday, so she could get a return flight that would enable her to be in school on Wednesday.

‘ So you won’t come back with me tonight?’

She shook her head.

‘I have to be in school tomorrow, Sanches. But in any case, as I’ve just said, I don’t want to get there before Miguel.’

The gardens of the Palacio were ablaze with all the exotic splendour of late spring; the valleys and vineyards beyond were lush and green, the hillsbehind Sintra blue, just as Miguel had described them once to Eleanor. She had paid the taxi-driver a little way along the road, feeling the need towalk the rest of the distance, and to think, preparing herself ... for what? It was now about three weeks since Dora’s death; it was hardly decent tobe going to see Miguel, she told herself, footsteps beginning to flag. ‘But they weren’t really married,’

she whispered to herself, ‘not when she was living with someone else.’

She reached the courtyard, looked up at the armorial crest, looked down again at the Fountain of the Mermaids with its decorations of exquisiteazulejos; white peacocks strutted about on the immaculately-cut lawn, hibiscus and poinsettias and jacarandas flaunted their colours against abackground of evergreens. A brilliant sun shone down on the whole peaceful scene. She rang the bell, heart pounding. Was it fear, orexcitement—or a little of both? Supposing Sanches were wrong? Supposing she herself were wrong? Miguel had never declared his love, nor hadthere ever been anything even approaching a love scene between them—a few intimate interludes, yes, but looking back now Eleanor admitted shecould have attached far more importance to those than had the Conde.

The severe Joao came to the door; his eyes flickered, but not with a welcome. The equivalent of an English butler, he had always seemed rathergrand to Eleanor and in spite of her confidence she had never been quite at her ease with him.

‘Is Dom Miguel in?’ she asked, and to her bitter disappointment he shook his head. ‘He hasn’t got back yet?’

Joao opened the door wider and she entered.

‘Back from where,senhorita?’

‘From—’ She stopped, wondering how much these servants knew. Perhaps Miguel had not even told anyone he was going to Greece. ‘He wasexpected to be home this afternoon. ’

The old man nodded slowly.

‘He arrived home and went off again within the hour. He

had to catch a plane to England.’

‘To England?’ she echoed stupidly. ‘ToEngland?’ ‘That is right,senhorita.’

She sagged one moment and the next her spirits soared.

Disappointment was crushed under the knowledge that he had gone to find her—and only an hour after coming home! He hadn’t meant to wasteany time. But how frustrating for all that. Here she was; and Miguel, probably very tired after all he’d had to do, and the journey too, on his way toEngland. How had Sanches managed to get it all wrong?

‘I don’t know what to do.’ She felt helpless and as the minutes passed her disappointment returned. ‘I think I’ll stay a little while, if I may?’

‘ Certainly,senhorita.’ He glanced at the wall clock. ‘Perhaps you would like to telephone him at the airport?’

Her eyes opened.

‘You mean, he hasn’t taken off yet?’

‘In about half an hour,senhorita,the plane will leave. Dom Miguel went off to catch the five-ten from Lisbon. ’

The five-ten! She wanted to shout for joy! Instead she asked sedately,

‘May I use the phone in the lounge?’

‘Certainly,senhorita,’ and he left her to make her own way across the thickly-carpeted hall to the familiar drawingroom which, with its three widewindows, looked out on to the courtyard and the fountain.

She stood by the window, unmoving until she saw the car arrive, its silver crest gleaming in the sunshine. She moved into the centre of the room,waiting, breathless, for him to enter. But on opening the door he stood for one brief moment, taking in the picture of her, standing there, still andpale, but with eyes shining with love.

‘Dearest...!’ She was caught to him, enfolded in his arms, and his lips claimed hers in a kiss that lasted a long, long time. Breathless, she raisedadoring eyes to his when eventually he held her from him. ‘Let me look at you! My own beloved Eleanor! Tell me all about it. How come you tobe here?’ She could not speak for a space, filled with happiness as she was. ‘I just couldn’t believe it when I reached the airport and an officialbrought the message out to me, even before I’d let Felipe take the car away.’

‘I thought I’d speak to you, but you hadn’t arrived.’ She went on to explain briefly what had happened, while he listened in frowning astonishment.

‘I perhaps did give Sanches the impression that I had lost hope,’ he admitted thoughtfully when she had finished. ‘But then I knew you wouldn’thave stopped loving me and was impatiently waiting until all the wretched business was over so that I could come to you. ’ He looked at her, hiseyes filled with tender emotion. ‘You should have known, my dearest, that I would not give up as easily as that.’

‘I did consider it strange, but I thought it might be ... pride...’ She trailed off, aware that this was not the right thing to say.

‘Pride would never have stopped me, you silly child.’ His tones admonished and she bit her lip. But the ready apology was smothered by his kiss,which by its ardour revealed all the pent-up emotions and tensions of the past few months, months of hopelessness for them both where only longempty years stretched ahead. And now they were together at last, locked in each other’s arms, oblivious of everything except the deep love theyhad for one another, a love which both knew would flourish for the rest of their lives. Miguel took her hand at last and led her over to the couch.His arm went round her as they sat down. He seemed grateful to Sanches for saving him a long explanation, but added a little to what had alreadybeen said.

‘When Dora went away for that holiday I really believed she was staying with her friend; so you can imagine the shock when, having gone toGreece at her request, I heard what she had to say. As you know, I was forced to accept her terms—’ He broke off and that satanic expressioncrossed his face— but fleetingly, and as it disappeared Eleanor knew she had seen it for the very last time. ‘That I, Miguel de Castro, should betold what I must do! But it was that or exposure for Carlota, with the subsequent stain on our good name. I knew in that moment that I hated Dora,hated her with a black venom, and I never wanted to see her again. I’m sure I was like a madman when I returned. Poor Carlota was in tears, but Icouldn’t tell her what was wrong.’

Eleanor also added a little to what Miguel knew. She told him about her bewilderment and how she had come at last to know that he cared for her.

‘I sensed a mystery, but at first told myself sternly that it was none of my business.’

‘You caught Julia taking jewellery from her mistress’s room; she told me this. I can see, my dear love, that you, as well as I, were in a hopeless andmost unhappy position, but it is all over now.’ His lips, gentle and tender, caressed her cheek. ‘When can you come back here, darling?’

‘I must work my notice. It’s two months—’

‘Two months!’ Emphatically he shook his head and for a moment she saw the softened line of his lips disappear, replaced by inflexibility. ‘I thinknot, my dear. We’ve lost enough time already. Do you realize it’s seven months since you left here?’

She nodded. It was exactly seven months and three days.

‘I can’t let the Head down, darling,’ she pleaded. ‘It would be a breach of professional etiquette to leave without giving the required period ofnotice.’

At length he agreed, but said he would fly over to England every week-end during that two months. Eleanor then took his arm and said,

‘Sanches believes he’s the one to bring us together; he seems to think he owes me a debt of gratitude, which is ridiculous, of course. But now he ishappy because he’s repaid me, so we mustn't let him know you were intending to come to England to see me.’

He stared, and shook his head firmly.

‘I’m not having anyone think that I hadn’t the courage to go and find my girl!’

‘Please, dearest Miguel,’ she pleaded. ‘He’ll be so very disappointed if he ever learns that all this wasn’t his doing.’ Miguel frowned, but found itquite impossible to resist his beloved’s request.

‘Very well,’ he agreed, but grudgingly. ‘We’ll let him believe it was he who brought us together. ’

He drew her close and she melted into his arms, lifting her face invitingly.

After a little while Miguel sent for a maid to show Eleanor up to a room. It was on the front of the house and she gave a small gasp on entering it.The maid disappeared and Eleanor turned.

‘You like it?’ Miguel came towards her, slid his arm about her shoulders and together they moved to the south-facing window and looked down onto the magnificent grounds of the Palacio, with the thickly-wooded park beyond, back by the hills. ‘This was once my mother’s room,’ he toldEleanor as, turning in the circle of his arm she gazed around her at the luxurious appointments—the satin-covered walls in delicate rose-pink, thethick cream-coloured carpet and heavy embossed curtains to match, the huge tester bed hung with rose and gold drapings. Her eyes came to rest onthe massive arched doorway between this room and the next. The door was slightly ajar and through the aperture she saw that the other room wassimilarly beautiful. A hint of colour rose at her thoughts and teasingly Miguel lifted her face with a gentle finger under her chin. ‘Yes, my love, Ishall be moving in there very soon. ’ He went on to repeat that this had been his mother’s room, but said that Eleanor could have it redecorated ifshe wished.

‘I love it as it is,’ she told him, and then went quiet. The idea of occupying Dora’s room had troubled her, but she should have known that Miguelwith his keen perception would understand. This action in giving her the room which she would later occupy was his subtle way of putting hermind at rest. Her heart seemed to swell with love for him.

‘This week-end is going to be the most wonderful of my whole life,’ she whispered, feeling that no matter what ecstasies were to follow, thislovely preliminary would hold the supreme position in her memories.

But Miguel made a firm qualification.

‘Oneof the most, my dearest. This we shall always remember, but there are even more wonderful times in store.’

And he was right. The shining day in June was ‘her lovely day’. The wedding was not nearly so grand as that of Carlota and Sanches; nevertheless,it was talked about for a long time afterwards, because of the proud magnificence of the bridegroom and the delicate beauty of the bride, who madeno attempt to disguise her feelings as, at the altar, she shone adoringly up at her very new husband and lifted eager rosy lips for his kiss.

‘My dearly beloved Condessa,’ he whispered with tender emotion before, straightening up, he assumed the noble dignity which, in public, wouldbe expected of the illustrious Conde Ramiro Vicente Miguel de Castro.