Country of the Falcon Page 16

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ he said harshly, ‘I honestly can’t believe it! That any daughter of mine should abuse the hospitality of her host by throwing herself at his head. Fortunately I know Declan well enough to realise that he would have no part of it. My God, Alexandra, you deserve a good hiding for this!’

  ‘Excuse, please, senhor, senhoras. You would like coffee, sim?’

  Consuelo was standing in the doorway behind them, her lined face wearing an anxious expression. Professor Tempest’s jaw tightened and he shook his head impatiently, but Clare said: ‘Thank you, Consuelo. We’ll ring if we want anything.’

  Consuelo ignored that cold dismissal and looked instead at Alexandra, noticing her pale cheeks, the bruised line around her eyes. ‘And you, senhorita—–?’

  ‘That will do, Consuelo.’ Professor Tempest looked at her furiously. ‘You have had your instructions from Mrs. Forman. Kindly leave us.’

  Consuelo’s lips pursed, but she had no choice but to do as he commanded. She went reluctantly through the door and as an afterthought Professor Tempest called: ‘Senhor O’Rourke, Consuelo? Where is he?’

  ‘Is out, senhor!’ returned Consuelo mutinously, and then went away.

  ‘I must speak to Declan,’ muttered Alexandra’s father bitterly. ‘I must apologise—–’

  ‘I shouldn’t.’ That was Clare again, and Alexandra’s brows drew together. Surely she wasn’t about to defend her? But no, Clare had other axes to grind. ‘You’d only embarrass him,’ she continued, forcing a persuasive tone. ‘He’s had enough to contend with without you bringing it all out into the open. Besides, once you’re gone …’

  Professor Tempest pressed his lips together. ‘Yes. Yes, perhaps you’re right. It would be embarrassing—all round.’ He looked again at his daughter, his eyes mirroring his dislike of her at that moment. ‘But you and I, Alexandra, we will discuss this again, make no mistake about it. And I don’t want to hear any more about you leaving school, is that clear?’

  Alexandra turned away, her hands thrust into the hip pockets of her jeans. ‘Is that all, Father?’ she enquired dully, and sensed his desire to strike her for what he considered downright insolence.

  ‘Yes, that’s all for now,’ he agreed grimly. ‘I suggest you remain in your room for the rest of the day. I’ll have your meals sent in to you.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  Without another word, Alexandra left the room, walking stiffly along the passage to her bedroom. But once there, with the door securely closed, she sank down weakly on to her bed and buried her face in her hands. She had thought things couldn’t get worse, but she had been wrong.

  Consuelo brought her lunch at about half past one. The old housekeeper came right into the room and closed the door before putting down the tray and saying: ‘Is not true, senhorita!’

  Alexandra looked up wearily. ‘What’s not true, Consuelo?’

  ‘What the Senhora Forman said, senhorita. About herself and Senhor Declan.’

  Alexandra made a motion as if pushing something away from her. ‘Now, Consuelo, if you’ve been eavesdropping—–’

  ‘Eavesdropping, senhorita? What is this?’

  Alexandra sighed. ‘Listening to conversations. Conversations that don’t concern you.’

  ‘Is concerning Consuelo!’ the housekeeper retorted sharply. ‘Consuelo know Senhor Declan since baby.’

  ‘I know that, Consuelo—–’

  ‘Senhor Declan never want to marry Senhora Forman. She want to marry him, but Senhor Declan, he leave Sao Paulo and come to Paradiablo to get away from her.’

  Alexandra stared at her incredulously. ‘Oh, come on, Consuelo! Why would he do that?’

  ‘Senhor Declan is kind man, senhorita. He not want cause trouble—how you say?—hurt feelings!’

  ‘And I suppose you’re going to tell me next that Clare married David Forman when she learnt that he was going to work at Paradiablo, too?’ Alexandra was sarcastic.

  ‘Is right, senhorita. Senhor Forman is dedicated man, too. He want to help Indian.’

  Alexandra considered the housekeeper’s face for a long uncertain moment. Then she shook her head impatiently. ‘Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? One way or the other, she’s achieved her objective.’

  ‘No!’ Consuelo was horrified. ‘Is not so. Senhor Declan is—how you say?—friendly, nothing more.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  Consuelo drew herself up to her full height. ‘Consuelo believe in Senhor Declan. He is not man to take other man’s wife.’

  Alexandra paced restlessly across the floor. ‘I appreciate your loyalty to your employer, Consuelo, but you’re wasting your time telling me all this.’

  ‘Que?’ For once Consuelo was at a loss. ‘The senhorita is in love with Senhor Declan, nao?’

  Alexandra’s lips tightened. ‘Haven’t you heard, Consuelo?’ she asked bitterly. ‘I’m still a schoolgirl! How can I possibly be expected to know my own mind?’

  Consuelo plucked unhappily at the strings of her apron. ‘The senhorita is making fun of Consuelo.’

  ‘No. No, I’m not making fun of you, Consuelo. Of myself perhaps.’

  ‘But—but Consuelo know—–’

  The housekeeper broke off abruptly, and Alexandra stared at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Yes, Consuelo? What do you know?’

  Consuelo hunched her shoulders. ‘The senhorita, she spend night in Senhor Declan’s bed.’

  Alexandra felt the hot colour flood her cheeks. ‘I see.’

  Consuelo moved towards the door. ‘Consuelo go. You not angry?’

  Alexandra shook her head. ‘No, I’m not angry, Consuelo. And—and thank you. For your confidence.’

  After Consuelo had gone, Alexandra picked at her food. But like the day before she wasn’t hungry. Everything seemed to be tumbling about her ears and she wished she could escape from all of them.

  About half an hour later her door opened and she looked up in surprise to find Declan entering the room. He closed the door and leant back against it, and she got up from the bed and confronted him tremulously.

  ‘Well? Have you come to demand that I take lunch with you?’ she asked unsteadily, ‘because I should tell you, my father has forbidden it.’

  Declan was unsmiling. ‘I know what your father has said.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘Clare said something about him being angry with you for staying here with me.’

  ‘Oh, did she?’ Alexandra chewed her lower lip. She might have known Clare would find some suitable excuse that didn’t involve her in any unpleasantness.

  ‘Yes. Wasn’t it true?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ Alexandra turned away. ‘Why have you come here? I don’t think my father would approve—–’

  ‘To hell with your father!’ Declan’s jaw was taut. ‘Alexandra, he said something about you not wanting to go back to school. Is this true?’

  Alexandra shrugged indifferently. ‘I don’t have any say in the matter.’

  Declan caught his breath on an expletive. ‘Just answer the question.’

  ‘No, I don’t want to go back to school. I shall be eighteen in October. Old enough to do what I like. But until then …’ She walked slowly towards the window. ‘The rain’s stopped.’

  ‘Never mind the rain.’ Declan was curiously taut himself. ‘Alexandra, I have a suggestion to make.’

  She glanced round at him. ‘Oh, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’ He clenched his fists by his sides. ‘How would you like to stay with my parents in Sao Paulo? For a few weeks anyway. It would give your father and his new wife time to get accustomed to one another, and give you a breathing space.’

  Alexandra stared at him. ‘Stay? With your family? How could I do that?’

  ‘Quite simply. They’d be delighted to have you. And one girl more or less in a houseful of women wouldn’t make much difference.’

  ‘But why should you suggest this?’ Her heart was palpitating quite
erratically.

  ‘I have no ulterior motive,’ he retorted, straightening. ‘I simply thought you might enjoy it.’

  Alexandra’s heart contracted. ‘Don’t you mean it would let me down more lightly?’ she demanded unsteadily. ‘A lump of sugar to sweeten the medicine!’

  Declan’s face hardened. ‘Not at all. You obviously can’t stay here, and you didn’t appear too happy with the new arrangements last night. I was merely trying to make things easier for you.’

  ‘How kind!’

  ‘Oh, it’s hopeless talking to you, isn’t it? You’re so wrapped up in your own self-pity, you don’t care who knows it!’

  Her lips trembled. ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘Yes, it is. It never occurred to you that your father might want a woman to share his life, did it? And it doesn’t occur to you to welcome her into your family either, does it?’

  Alexandra gasped, ‘That’s not fair!’

  ‘Very little in this life is, is it? Okay, Alexandra, leave it. Go with your father and Juana. Make a martyr of yourself. But don’t expect someone to be around to pick up the pieces every time.’

  The door slammed behind him and she stood motionless, controlling the racking sobs that rose inside her. Oh, why had she said what she had? Why hadn’t she accepted the invitation he so casually offered? At least it would have meant that she could stay in Brazil, be within a thousand or so miles of him! Now she was committed to flying back to England and leaving him to Clare’s undoubted attractions.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  DUE, no doubt, to the fact that Alexandra was eating scarcely enough to keep a bird alive and in consequence her resistance to disease was weakened, she developed a severe gastric infection in Rio which confined her to her bed in the hotel for over a week and delayed their departure for England.

  Both her father and Juana were most concerned about her and, surprisingly, Alexandra found her stepmother’s kindness rather easier to take than her father’s helpless anxiety. She got to know Juana quite well during those few days—it was impossible to remain aloof with someone who efficiently changed the sheets when one was sick, and sponged the sweat from one’s hot and sticky body—and she began to appreciate exactly why her father had become fond of her. She didn’t think it was in her father’s nature to really love anyone, but his feelings for Juana were as close as he could come.

  In her own way, Juana was different from any other woman Alexandra had ever known. She had a shy sensitivity which Alexandra had initially mistaken for confidence, and she was, in fact, a home-loving creature. Her career in bacteriology had been as much determined by the pride in her shown by her parents as through any desire of her own to be independent. And because of this, Alexandra was able to talk to her, about her own feelings towards staying at school and her ultimate ambitions. She didn’t discuss Declan with her then, although she suspected at some future date she might. It was distinctly warming after all the trauma of leaving Paradiablo to find she had an unexpected ally.

  The effects of the infection itself were rather less reassuring. Alexandra had never carried a lot of weight and now she was positively fragile in appearance, the skin stretched tightly across her cheekbones accentuating the hollows of her cheeks. Her clothes hung upon her, and only in jeans and sweaters did she feel at ease. The casual attire concealed the thinness of her legs and arms.

  Of course, she was still thinking about Declan, and the knowledge that she was never to see him again squashed any enthusiasm for the delicacies Juana produced for her at mealtimes. Because of her delicate condition, Juana would not allow her to eat anything which she had not personally prepared, and Alexandra felt sure the hotel staff must resent her stepmother’s constant invasions of the kitchens.

  Still, the sickness and its accompanying unpleasantness ceased, and she was left feeling weak and languid, but no longer nauseated.

  The worst part was still to come, of course. Flying home to England presented its own agonies, and she was glad when Juana had the doctor who had attended her in Rio provide her with some sleeping tablets which made the putting of so many miles between herself and Declan easier to bear.

  It was good to see Aunt Elizabeth again, although she wasn’t so happy about meeting Juana. Her position in her brother’s household had never before been threatened and not even Alexandra’s father’s insistence that everything should remain as it was for the time being could convince her that sooner or later she would not become redundant.

  London was sweating in the heat of an unusually dry August, and Professor Tempest immediately suggested that they should all leave for the house he had rented in Cannes. Alexandra was not keen. Cannes meant young men, friends of business associates of her father’s, bikinis, and lots of socialising which right now she was in no state to endure.

  Aunt Elizabeth solved the dilemma. ‘You go, Arnold,’ she said, with a forced smile at Juana. ‘You deserve some time alone together. Alexandra and I will stay here. The child’s not fit to go travelling again. And besides, she needs good, satisfying British food, not that foreign muck!’

  Professor Tempest had protested, of course, but Alexandra could tell he was relieved. As for Juana, she was less willing to abandon her new-found stepdaughter, and the night before they were due to leave she came to Alexandra’s room just as she was getting ready for bed. She was sitting before the dressing table. She had been brushing her hair, but the sight of the dark, bruised lines around her eyes had caused her to lean forward to get a closer look and she was touching the corners of her eyes wonderingly when Juana tapped and entered the room.

  ‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’ Juana was always polite.

  Alexandra put down the brush and turned on the stool. ‘No, of course not, Juana,’ she replied, nodding to a basket-weave chair. ‘Sit down.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Juana seated herself carefully and then looked up. ‘Alexandra, I—I wanted to speak to you.’

  Alexandra felt a twinge of alarm. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Yes.’ Juana smoothed her fingers along the arms of the chair. ‘It is difficult for me to begin, but …’ She paused. ‘First—you do not mind your father and me leaving tomorrow for Cannes, do you?’

  Alexandra breathed more easily. ‘No, not at all.’ She shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘I can always join you later, if I want to.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, you could.’ Juana smiled, dimples appearing in her plump cheeks. Then the smile disappeared. ‘But it was not really to do with this that I have come.’

  ‘No?’ The tension began again.

  ‘No.’ Juana licked her lips. ‘Alexandra, your father told me that—that Clare Forman had said that you had been—how did she put it?—making a nuisance of yourself towards Declan O’Rourke?’

  Alexandra swung round on her seat. ‘I’d really rather not discuss it, Juana.’

  ‘But you must!’ Juana moved to the edge of her chair. ‘Alexandra, you are making yourself ill! You do not eat—and from the look of your eyes, you do not sleep! This cannot go on.’

  Alexandra bent her head. ‘Really, Juana, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but—–’

  ‘But nothing. Alexandra, this is a dangerous practice. I know. I have seen girls go into declines before.’

  ‘Declines!’ Alexandra forced a mockery she was far from feeling. ‘Oh, Juana, what an old-fashioned word!’

  Juana rose to her feet. ‘But its meaning is the same!’ she declared impatiently. ‘Alexandra, tell me about it. Talk to me! It might help.’

  Alexandra heaved a sigh. ‘I don’t think so, Juana.’

  ‘Why not? Must I assume that Clare was telling the truth and that you are too ashamed to admit it?’

  ‘No!’ The protest was out before Alexandra could prevent it. She hunched her shoulders miserably. ‘I—I—it wasn’t like that.’

  ‘Then what was it like?’ probed Juana gently, sitting down once more.

  Alexandra hesitated, kicking her bare toes against the teak panelling of her dress
ing table. ‘I—I can’t explain.’

  ‘Yes, you can. In confidence, of course.’

  Alexandra looked up accusingly. ‘You’d tell my father, you know you would.’

  ‘No, I should not. Not if you had asked me not to do so.’

  Alexandra shook her head. ‘I don’t know where to begin. You might not believe me.’

  Juana smiled. ‘I know you do not tell lies, Alexandra. I am not so sure about Clare Forman.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Alexandra frowned.

  Juana looked doubtful now. ‘I’m not sure I should tell you.’ Then she sighed. ‘Oh, it is simply that Clare has always run after Declan O’Rourke. Why, she even married that poor man, David Forman, just so that she could follow Declan into the mountains.’

  Alexandra stared at her incredulously. ‘How—how can you know that?’

  ‘I have friends in Sao Paulo who know the O’Rourkes. Clare created quite a scandal before Declan left for Paradiablo. She embarrassed everyone. Most particularly herself!’

  ‘But she told me that—–’ Alexandra broke off. ‘That is—perhaps I assumed too much.’

  Juana eyed her stepdaughter sceptically. ‘She told you something about herself and Declan, did she not?’ she asked with conviction. ‘What was it, Alexandra?’

  ‘I—I probably misunderstood.’ Alexandra found it difficult to repeat what the other girl had said.

  ‘Please, Alexandra. You must tell me.’

  Alexandra hesitated. ‘Oh—oh, well, she said something about Declan being angry because she married David when—when he was away.’

  ‘Oh, what rubbish!’ Juana was impatient. ‘As far as I can gather, Declan would be most relieved.’ She frowned. ‘But why would Clare tell you a thing like that anyway?’

  Alexandra stroked the silken cord of her dressing gown. ‘I—I think she just wanted to make her position clear.’

  ‘But why? If you were such a nuisance to Declan, why should she have to do such a thing?’

  Alexandra sighed. ‘Well, perhaps it was because she saw—well, she saw Declan and me together.’