An Undefended City Page 14

  sure I needn't remind you, cease to be a trustee on the day I marry.'

  On which Parthian shot she turned on her heel and quitted the room, leaving the man behind her bubbling like a stew-pot but incapable for several minutes after her departure of putting words to his sentiments.

  Luis, when informed by Olivia with modest pride of her Amazonian encounter with her uncle, roared with laughter.

  `He had it coming to him,' he remarked, 'though he probably didn't expect it from such a quiet quarter.' He gave her a hug. 'I hope you feel pleased with yourself.'

  `Oh, I do,' Olivia assured him sunnily. 'I feel as if a whole new life has opened up to me. I can go round slaying dragons now—or at least preventing taxi drivers from overcharging me!'

  This diminution in her ambitions also amused him. They were sitting in a swinging garden seat, hung between orange trees in the orchard. It was the next morning and they had arranged to meet there before anyone was up. It was nearly eleven, but apart from Aunt Betty, luxuriously reading a novel in bed, no one else in the family was even awake.

  It was very agreeable, this feeling of fellowship against the rest of the world, and Olivia was finding herself more and more enthusiastic at the idea of its continuance. Luis had been thoroughly charming both to the disapproving family and to an undecided Aunt Betty, so that, after her initial skirmishes, Olivia had found the fighting was in the most civilised way being done for her. As a result she confided more and more in him and her evident pleasure in his company encouraged Aunt Betty to hope for the best.

  By the end of the week it was an established fact that Luis and Olivia were to marry, though not without predictions of disaster from Uncle Octavio.

  As Luis had promised her, it seemed that the marriage could take place fairly soon. Aunt Betty encouraged speed because she disliked living under Octavio's roof and wanted to stay in Mexico no longer than for the wedding. Aunt Isabel, her house roaring about her ears with her husband's

  fury, wanted the whole business concluded and no longer a subject of debate as quickly as possible. The wedding was therefore set for the end of the month, just giving the local seamstress time to make the white wedding dress that all the female members of the family insisted upon.

  Proceedings were slightly hindered by the fact that Uncle Octavio, presenting the difference in Luis's and Olivia's nominal religion as his reason, insisted on a civil wedding only.

  'Then if it doesn't work out they can divorce without any difficulty,' he told his wife, rubbing his hands with satisfaction at his own shrewdness.

  Knowing how much he wanted not only the Lightfellow money but his own sister's inheritance back in the family with Diego, Aunt Isabel heard this assertion with some anxiety. It would be fairly possible for him to engineer some disaster to Luis's career, she thought with compunction. However, Olivia had enough money for both of them and if Octavio did carry his malice so far, she was convinced that the affection between the two of them could only be strengthened by it. She did not contemplate the possibility of Octavio causing disagreements within the marriage.

  In this, she underrated him. Uncle Octavio was feeling hard done by. Luis, a pauper for all his superior family, had ignored his obligations and run off with a Villa bride. And Olivia had flouted every duty in choosing for herself, ignoring her uncle's expressed wishes, and finally insulting him. If he could make their path uneasy it was no more than they deserved. Accordingly he insisted that his wife invite for the weekend before the wedding not only Luis's mother and brother as she had intended but Diego, Elena and Elena's sister-in-law.

  Now there had been, as he well knew, several tender passages between Luis and Anamargarita Cisneros, but when his wife tried to point this out he had pooh-poohed her objections. Anamargarita was family—well, nearly family, they hadn't seen the child for a long time and she would be company for Diego who had been cheated of his promised wife. Uncle Octavio had a limitless capacity for

  presenting himself—even occasionally to himself—as thoroughly reasonable. His wife understood his real motive but was too cowed to accuse him of it.

  She did however try to warn Olivia, which did not have the precise result that kind Aunt Isabel had intended. Instead of grasping that Anamargarita was a force to be reckoned with who might make life briefly but severely uncomfortable, Olivia thought her aunt was telling her that Luis was in love with the lady. This did not altogether surprise her, but it did make her feel low. She had passed the optimum point where she revelled in Luis's support and affection. Ever since he had returned to the capital to his work Olivia's confidence had been sliding downhill. The more she thought of it the more impossible it seemed that a man such as he could care for her, or even come to do so later. She had nothing to offer. And he, kind and funny and attentive, sending her letters three times a week and telephoning whenever he was in a place sufficiently civilised to possess a telephone, was becoming increasingly necessary to her. In fact, as Olivia now admitted, though only to herself, she was in a very fair way to falling in love with him.

  The sight of Señorita Cisneros, therefore, depressed her totally. Anamargarita arrived with her brother and sister-in-law in a large American car in the middle of Friday afternoon. Neither Diego nor Luis and his family had put in an appearance and, while Elena was swept off upstairs to hear her mother's woes and her husband went down to the paddock to look at Octavio's new mare, Olivia was left to entertain her.

  She was classically beautiful, with dark hair and large, liquid golden eyes. It was a hot day and she wore a scarlet sundress, cut away daringly at the shoulders and back but coming to a high collar at the throat. She was beautifully and evenly tanned and her toe and fingernails were lacquered the same Chinese red as her dress. Olivia in pale linen, felt herself outclassed.

  `So you're the little cousin,' said Anamargarita patronisingly, though she was no taller than Olivia and very

  probably younger. 'I've heard about you, of course, poor child.'

  Olivia raised her brows. She was not quite so accommodating to that sort of thing as she used to be. 'In what way do I excite your pity?' she asked pleasantly, taking a seat on the porch.

  It was a wooden shaded balcony that ran right the way round the house, off which many of the principal rooms opened. The drawing room door was open now and in front of it was placed a wooden table bearing drinks and snacks.

  `I'm sure you're thirsty,' pursued Olivia. 'Can I give you something to drink? Whisky?' which as she had discovered was the fashionable aperitif. 'Sherry? Sangria? There's an iced jug of it here and Aunt Isabel has a special recipe.'

  `I know that perfectly well,' snapped Anamargarita, seating herself with a flounce of scarlet and a darkling look at Olivia. 'I'm not quite a stranger here, you know.'

  She was offended by Olivia's assumptions of a hostess's duty. Olivia saw it, and was contrite. However, there was little she could do to atone and she had broken herself of the habit of apologising at all eventualities which caused offence, whether they were her fault or not.

  And however offended Anamargarita might be, she still liked to be waited on.

  `I'll have sangria,' she said, holding out a languid hand to receive it.

  Olivia poured her a glass. It was delicious stuff, made from local wine and fresh fruit juices. Aunt Isabel's recipe prescribed quantities of fresh lime and Olivia had spent a morning pressing the latest crop from the orchard so that there should be enough for the weekend's sangria. She pondered remarking so to Anamargarita and decided against it, in case that too underlined her usurper's status.

  The sangria was received without thanks and swallowed without comment. Olivia, taking a wooden chair opposite the guest, began to rack her brains for a subject of conversation.

  `Did you have a good journey?' she asked.

  'Oh, reasonable. Dusty, of course, it always is at this time

  of year. I never come in a car if I can avoid it.'

  `Do you use the helicopter, then?' asked Olivia, fee
ling that here was a neutral subject. 'I had never flown in one before.'

  Anamargarita's eyes narrowed. 'I suppose Luis flew you out here.'

  `Oh no, there was a pilot. I didn't know Luis could fly.'

  `Helicopters hardly count as flying,' she was informed loftily. 'But of course he can pilot one. How would he get around, otherwise? Most of his on-site work is done at great distance from Mexico City and from the other projects. He couldn't get around to all of them if he only used a car. Besides, he often goes into the jungle and you can't take a car in there for most of the year. Didn't you know that?'

  Olivia admitted that she did not and Anamargarita began to look more cheerful.

  `Oh, Luis has been piloting me out here for ages. I always try to come when he's available. Cars are such a nuisance and they take so long.'

  `I suppose so,' said Olivia doubtfully.

  The tone of her guest's remarks hardly sounded as if she were in love with Luis. From her expression she might have been talking about some favoured servant.

  `Does Luis like flying?'

  Anamargarita gave her a look of ineffable scorn. 'He doesn't fly for fun, you know. He's not a sportsman like Diego. I don't suppose he knows any of the finer points at all. He flies when he's paid to.'

  `He could still like it,' murmured Olivia.

  The other girl shrugged. 'Possibly he does, then. I can't say I've ever asked him.'

  `I thought,' said Olivia, a frown between her brows, 'that you were friends.'

  This was not a wholly sensible remark and if Olivia had been less humble and more aware of the demands of personal vanity she would have realised that Anamargarita felt herself to have been slighted by the announcement of Luis's betrothal. Having satisfied herself that there were no indications that Señorita Cisneros was personally hurt by

  his defection, Olivia had innocently but unwisely assumed that the affair had been misinterpreted by the onlookers. Anamargarita had wanted a chauffeur and Luis had been available and obliging. There was therefore no danger in discussing one with the other.

  Such an unworldly approach would have been disbelieved by Anamargarita. The latter had got used to Luis's attentions and, though she had been far from committed to him, she had found him useful. It was always a good thing to have a handsome and agreeable man to carry one's stole, escort one to parties or the theatre, drive one's car when one was too tired and generally do the hundred and one things which it was boring to do for oneself. In particular she had liked figuring, though very discreetly of course, in the society pages of magazines, as having attached one of Mexico's most distinguished bachelors. Of course it was tedious that he had to work, and to tell the truth Anamargarita rather despised him for it. But it was undeniably thrilling to have such a man at one's feet. She had not quite decided whether to marry him because he was so much older than she and not wealthy. But, until her mother had read her the engagement notice in the newspaper, however unsure she was of her own intentions she had not doubted his for a moment. The flaw in his devotion thus manifest had hit her cruelly and she was, as her old nurse phrased it, fighting mad. And, naturally enough, she held Olivia to blame.

  Olivia, not guessing this from her own experience, had no clue to it from the lady's demeanour. After a brief pause, during which Anamargarita summoned all her resources of self-control, she gave Olivia a charming smile.

  `Did he tell you that?' she asked.

  `No. My Aunt Isabel suggested it,' said Olivia with incautious frankness.

  'Alt yes. Poor Isabel. They were worried about it, though quite unnecessarily.'

  Anamargarita folded her exquisite hands and sighed.

  Olivia, she discovered from under her lashes, was looking

  puzzled and rather uneasy. That afforded her some comfort.

  Not that I'm as close a member of the family as you, my

  dear,' she went on charmingly. 'But still, I am related by marriage and I suppose they felt responsible, as I'd met Luis here.'

  She paused for effect and gave a histrionic little gasp.

  `Oh, but you didn't know, did you? I can see that you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm sorry, I thought when you said Isabel had suggested that Luis and I had been friends that you knew all about it.'

  `All about what?' asked innocent Olivia, and gave her antagonist exactly the opening she had been looking for.

  Anamargarita leant forward and said very seriously, 'Luis and me. I wouldn't have told you, but now that it's slipped out, I will. The whole truth is so much better than suspicions, don't you agree? The trouble is that Luis wanted to marry me,' said Anamargarita with enjoyment. 'Of course he's very attractive and I had let him take me out once or twice,' conveniently forgetting that these occasions had been organised by herself or the Villa family at her instigation and were only as frequent as Luis's job permitted, 'but there was nothing else in it. My family would never permit him to marry me. He has nothing. He has been looking for a rich wife for years, and for some reason it is particularly urgent now. Perhaps he has some scheme he wants financing, I don't know.' Her tone of indifference was not assumed. Luis's work had never been more than a bore to Anamargarita. 'Anyway, I had to tell him that there was no prospect of it.'

  Olivia had gone perfectly white. Señorita Cisneros, having unloaded some of her own distress on to another, sat back well satisfied.

  `Just as well as it has turned out,' she said with a spiteful smile at the English girl. 'Since he has now met and fallen in love with you, I mean.'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE Villa family, though not large, was noisy and Olivia's silence throughout the evening therefore went unnoticed particularly after Diego's arrival. The embarrassment which Olivia had anticipated feeling at her first encounter with the latter was wholly swamped by other emotions. Her cousin's behaviour, too, was exemplary. He kissed her cheek, greeted her kindly and kept up a flow of amusing small talk in which he neither singled her out nor ignored her. Nor did he refer, by the remotest implication or a single rueful look, to the fact that she had, by her engagement, effectively rejected himself.

  Olivia, a child in these matters, no more realised that Diego was suffering from pique than she recognised that state in Señorita Cisneros. She was merely grateful for his forbearance and smiled on him rather more frequently than she might otherwise have done as a result. Olivia's smile was one of her most attractive characteristics. Wholly spontaneous, it lit her eyes and gave her entire face the look of a mischievous elf. Luis had noticed it and noticed, too, that she was quite unaware of her own charm. Her cousin, while his perception did not extend so far, did acknowledge to himself in a rather startled fashion that, if properly dressed and if she were less shy, she could be a very pretty girl. From being a distinct liability and the last woman in the world he wanted to marry, she was transformed into a highly desirable object.

  When his father had announced the plans for his marriage Diego had been both reluctant and indignant. However, a series of blameworthy (and expensive) misdemeanours in the previous twelve months had weakened his bargaining

  position. His mother had sympathised, but both she and her son knew well enough that her influence with her husband was minimal. Diego had capitulated with very bad grace and had told his closest friends that martyrdom was upon him. Now that Olivia was no longer being foisted into his arms by his father he began to see for himself exactly how great was the prize he was missing. Not only was she prettier than he remembered and rich, she had a gentleness of manner which Diego, whose girl-friends tended to be as temperamental as they were vivacious, found unexpectedly attractive.

  She had, too, delivered a severe blow to his ego by her headstrong refusal to contemplate him as her husband. Diego began to plot mischief. But he was by far too experienced a campaigner to announce it, even to his doting mother. Olivia was treated to a display of gentlemanlike tact which amazed her and impressed even his family.

  Diego's good manners were thrown into even greater relief
by the absence of Luis and his mother and brother. Though they had been originally expected on Friday night, no message beyond a brief telephone call that they had been delayed was received until well into dinner. By ten o'clock Olivia was receiving pitying looks from her cousins and downright triumph from Anamargarita Cisneros. Then, however, the butler appeared, whispered something to Aunt Isabel and stood back expectantly.

  `Oh dear,' said Aunt Isabel, patently flustered. 'Are you sure? I mean, didn't he ask to speak to Octavio? Oh well.' She cast a scared look down the table at her husband who was engaged in a vitriolic debate with his son-in-law and not attending. 'But it would be more proper if Don Octavio. . . . But I don't think.. . .' Receiving no help from such members of the company as were listening, she let her tangled phrases fall into silence and made a fresh effort. `Livvy, there is a telephone call from Luis. Apparently he wishes to speak to you. You may take it in my sitting room. Be sure instructed Aunt Isabel, with a last attempt to reassert her husband's claim to the consultation, `to ask if he wants to speak to your uncle.'

  Olivia jumped and went pale, a fact that Diego noted. However, she rose composedly enough and followed the butler to her aunt's boudoir. There she was directed to an ornate telephone of gilt and ebony which looked as if it had been imported from a Hollywood musical. She picked up the receiver cautiously and said, 'Hello!'

  `Olivia! Olivia, is that you?' Luis sounded very urgent and very far away.

  `Yes,' she agreed.

  `Thank heavens for that ! You were so long I thought they were refusing to let me talk to you. Are you all right?' `Yes,' repeated Olivia in a wooden voice.

  `You don't sound all right. What has happened?'

  She was intimidated as much by the telephone and the distance between them as by Anamargarita's barbs of the afternoon. The hovering servant was further impediment to frankness.