An Undefended City Page 16

  `I see.' Señora Escobar was shaken, but she was far too well bred to show it. 'Luis did mention something of the kind, but I assumed you must have met each other abroad, in England perhaps. I had not realised that everything happened so suddenly. It is very romantic, of course, but also very unlike my son. He usually—plans—' said Señora Escobar, choosing her words, 'with more care.'

  Olivia reflected bitterly that that was true. He had probably had his plans well laid before she even arrived—as mon as it was obvious that he would not be permitted to marry the girl he loved, in fact. She said nothing.

  Señora Escobar fell to studying her hands. 'Of course when men are in love they act totally out of character,' she observed.

  The girl flinched. So they were not in love. Or at least, thought the lady who had a mother's standard estimate of her son's attractions, Luis was not and the girl knew it. She became even more worried.

  `You know, my dear,' she said at last, 'you and Luis really haven't known each other very long at all. And what looks like love can so easily turn out to be infatuation. Do you think that to have the wedding so soon, next week, is really wise?'

  There was a pause. Then she looked up to find Olivia studying her very directly.

  `Don't you want us to marry, either?' Olivia asked in a

  tired voice.

  Señora Escobar was unused to frontal attack and it disconcerted her.

  `Not at all—it's your own affair—I shouldn't dream—' She stopped, struck. 'What do you mean, "either"?'

  `Oh, haven't my aunt and uncle told you? They are very opposed to it. Uncle Octavio is insisting on a civil marriage only as a result.'

  The news cast Señora Escobar into a turmoil. Of what use could such an alliance be if it only succeeded in alienating Octavio Villa? She turned to Olivia, a rueful look of puzzlement in her eyes.

  `Can he do so?'

  `Oh, yes,' said Olivia dispiritedly. 'He is my trustee and a sort of guardian, I suppose. Not,' with a flash of fire, 'that his objections are anything to do with him being fond of me. He just doesn't want to lose control of my money. If I hadn't married he would have remained my trustee until I'm thirty, you see.'

  `Yes, I see,' responded Senora Escobar faintly.

  So Luis was not sidling into the Villa family. He was out for bigger game. He was marrying an heiress. She should have realised sooner that there was bound to be some greater advantage than the uncertain hope of Octavio

  Villa's goodwill. She was aware of some compunction for the girl, but it was swamped by a wave of maternal panic. Luis had been his own, very competent, master for too many years to listen to advice, but she was positive that this time he was heading for disaster and she could see no way to avert it.

  Except perhaps through the girl. She leant forward confidingly.

  `Has it occurred to you,' she began, torn between an uneasy feeling of playing the sneak and what she conceived to be a higher loyalty, 'that Luis—well, that he may not be entirely disinterested—when it comes to your money, I mean?

  She encountered an unnervingly clear look. For a moment it appeared as if Olivia would not answer. Then fair eyebrows rose.

  `That you must discuss with him, senora,' said Olivia composedly.

  She got to her feet, but Señora Escobar stayed her with a hand on her arm, 'this rushing into marriage. If it's Luis's idea—it's not a good sign, you know,' said his mother. 'Why did you agree? Why don't you?' wheedling, 'put it off—just for a little while to give you both time to think about it?

  `I think,' said the gentle voice without any hint of offence, a fact at which Señora Escobar was later to marvel, 'that that is a matter for Luis and myself to decide. It must be nearly dinner time. I will go and see if the others are down yet.'

  They were; and Olivia, making the acquaintance of Victor Escobar and talking animatedly to her cousin Diego, contrived to ignore if not to forget the barbed interchange with Luis's mother. It had, after all, no more than confirmed her own suspicions. If she had not been such a stupid little innocent she could have worked it out for herself without having to be enlightened by Anamargarita Cisneros and Eloisa Escobar.

  The only thing which remained to be considered, not that she was acquainted with Luis's reason for asking her to marry him, was whether it changed her mind at all. She was

  still woefully undecided when she went to bed and in spite of a sleepless night, no more resolved in the morning.

  The trouble was that she was coming more and more to depend on Luis. Not, as she might have expected from her previous history, that she wanted him to look after her. Olivia, in direct confrontation with a forceful Uncle Octavio, was finding that, once her mind was made up, she could defend her position very well. It had surprised and rather encouraged her. It had also amused her to see Octavio's baffled expression. Like most bullies he had only one tactic, and to find it baulked by Olivia's gentle determination had seriously ruffled his good opinion of himself. Olivia had observed it and looked forward to sharing the joke with Luis.

  And that was it. In the course of a night during which her pillow had converted itself to wood shavings and her coverlet had declined to remain in place for two minutes together, Olivia had discovered that she needed to share jokes with Luis. Also to discuss her doubts with him, survey the landscape with him, play croquet with him and generally share her present life and future plans. It was a state of anticipation of his return which had not been unpleasurable until Anamargarita had planted her barbs. Olivia knew that he was stronger-minded than she. On the other hand she had been fairly certain that he was fond of her: not in love, obviously, but friendly and welcoming. It was a good feeling and one that would do well enough until... .

  I'm in love with him, thought Olivia, shocked.

  Her first thought, panic-stricken, was whether she had given herself away. She surveyed her conduct during the last month and on the whole decided not. After all, she argued wryly, if she hadn't recognised what was wrong with her, the odds were that nobody else had either. But she would have to be very careful. It would be dreadful to embarrass Luis.

  Besides, if he knew she was in love with him he might have some compunction about marrying her, knowing she would never be more than a substitute for the lovely Ana-

  margarita. And Olivia had discovered that she wanted to marry him on any conditions whatever. She loved him so much (it rather alarmed her to discover how much) that it was inconceivable that he would not eventually love her too.

  However, she did not care to dwell on it. Her love must be disguised from everyone, including Luis who, if he never came to return it, would at least be spared the guilt of hurting her.

  She continued to take refuge in Diego's company and in a bright social manner which favourably impressed all but her aunt. Miss Lightfellow, observing a somewhat hectic tinge to Olivia's conversation, shook her head wisely and waited for Luis to come home.

  Meanwhile preparations for the wedding and other essentials such as Olivia's wardrobe went ahead apace. The wedding was to be held on the lawn of the Villa Mansion and Aunt Isabel, in spite of the undercurrents, was in her element discussing menus, ordering decorations and overseeing the gradual construction of a number of-tables at which to sit the five hundred guests which were all, she told Olivia pityingly, that could be expected to come at such short notice. Elena's wedding, a fashionable affair, had necessarily taken place in Mexico City, which had deprived her mother of many of the enjoyable preliminaries. Aunt Isabel was determined that Olivia's should not suffer from either the brevity of notice or Olivia's own comparative lack of acquaintance in Mexico.

  `Of course it will only be a little country affair,' she told Senora Escobar lightly, well pleased by that lady's fascinated awe at the work involved. But Olivia is our niece. We must do our best for her.'

  Thus it was that when Luis eventually arrived in Cuernavaca he found his bride showing signs of strain. Paler and thinner than he remembered, she was nevertheless glittering with a vivac
ity that was new. At first he thought she had relaxed and was enjoying herself, and was relieved. Then he perceived a degree of tension which disturbed him. He ascribed it to continuing pressure from Octavio Villa's

  opposition and thought vengefully of making him regret it. He tried to reassure Olivia and found her evasive.

  Not knowing her own mind, Olivia took every opportunity to avoid a tete-a-tete. She rose early and went riding, she had consultations with dressmakers, she had to help her aunt with arrangements, and she had to write thank-you letters. Luis became more and more uneasy, but he was unable to neglect any part of his job, knowing that Octavio was watching his performance with hawk like intensity. Any cause for complaint would be gratefully seized upon by Olivia's uncle. He was not a good loser.

  So there were only two days before the wedding when Luis finally cornered her.

  It was evening and Olivia had taken the opportunity afforded by the time-consuming ritual of dressing for dinner to slip out into the orchard, while everyone else was occupied. She had declined to wear any of the new dresses until after her wedding and was clothed in one of her own simple pastel things. It was cream voile and it was that, a glimmer of pale movement among the shadows, that told Luis where she was.

  She gave a great start when he came up behind her. She had not heard him approach, though her mind had been fully occupied with him.

  `Oh, you startled me,' she said breathlessly.

  `Enjoying the night air?' he asked. 'It's nice, isn't it? That smell of fruit. It reminds me of England in a way. I've always liked English summer twilight. We're too close to the tropics here for much twilight, of course. The sun just goes down, plonk !'

  Olivia laughed and he went on approvingly, 'That's better. I haven't heard you laugh properly ever since I've been back. What is wrong, little one? Have they been bullying you?'

  `Oh no,' she said, and then pondered. 'Well, not much, I think I haven't really noticed. I'm so used to being told what to do, it all rather goes over my head now. And Aunt Betty has been a tower of strength. In fact, now I come to

  think of it, Uncle Octavio has probably been bullying her.'

  `Excellent,' said Luis, amused. 'Then he's met someone up to his own weight at last. But that doesn't tell me why you're looking so peaky. Is it the wedding and all Isabel's flapping?'

  Olivia gave an instinctive, undisguisable shiver. `I—I wasn't quite prepared for the fuss,' she agreed in a low voice. 'It's been a bit of a shock.'

  `And I wasn't here,' he said remorsefully. 'Poor little one! Never mind, it will soon be over and then we'll be all right.'

  She gave another shiver, which she tried to conceal, drawing her crocheted shawl about her and saying, 'It's getting colder, hadn't we better go in?'

  Luis ignored the remark. 'I see,' he said. 'You've changed your mind.'

  He sounded so bleak and far away that she rounded on him, crying out, 'No no. I promised.'

  `Yes, you did, didn't you?' he agreed, still in that unemotional voice. 'But you can break a promise. You wouldn't be the first woman to do so. And better now than later when we're married.'

  Olivia, who had been fighting with the conviction that he was as calculating as he was heartless, was suddenly reminded of Anamargarita. She must have hurt him badly, very badly, if he was in love with her. Olivia was coming to know something of the hurts that love inflicts.

  She said now, 'I won't break my promise, Luis. I won't cry off at this stage. I just wish that you'd told me, at the beginning, that it was my money you wanted. I wouldn't have minded and it would have been kinder than—than to pretend.'

  `Pretend?' He sounded stupefied.

  `That I was—that I could be useful. I mean me,' said Olivia passionately, 'not my inheritance. That you wanted a wife and not just the bags of gold.'

  She was overwrought and melodramatic as a result, but Luis was very far from reproaching her for over-reacting this time.

  `You really believe that?' he demanded.

  Olivia turned away. 'Isn't it true?' she asked in a muffled voice.

  He made a quick impatient movement, abruptly curbed. `Yes,' he said eventually. 'Yes, it was, in the beginning. At least.. . part of it was that.' He passed a hand over his face. Now—I don't know. I'm not sure. Can't you understand?'

  With her back rigid she was fighting for control. Her make-up had been carefully applied these last few nights to disguise the ravages of too many hours of tears and she did not want to ruin her handiwork.

  `Yes, I can understand,' she told him at last, with the gentleness that his mother had noticed on a previous occasion. `Barbarita told me some of it and I've seen a good deal for myself. My uncle is not a generous man, is he? And you're under an obligation to him through no fault of your own—'

  Luis flung up a hand, silencing her.

  `It is nobody's fault,' he said heavily. 'And any obligation is not to Octavio but to my brother. It was Victor who made it possible for me to go through university, not Octavio. Oh, he finished the process, right enough, but only because he thought a trained engineer would be more use to him than an unqualified one. But Victor—Did Barbarita tell you about his accident?'

  Olivia moved closer to him in compassion. 'Yes.'

  Luis hardly noticed. 'To be really good as a climber you have to do it all the time. Victor was good, he was a natural, they used to say, but he didn't have the time to spend on it. My father was totally irresponsible and even before he died Victor was spending all his days in a stuffy office to put me through college. He was going to leave when I graduated. We both knew that. It was our secret from Mama. She still doesn't know. When I was able to stand on my own feet.. . He broke off. 'Only he still climbed in vacations and at weekends. It wasn't enough, of course, and he knew it, but he said it kept his muscles in trim. But the Andes climb was more than he could take. He just wasn't fit enough or fast enough when his rope slipped. If he'd done it all the

  time as he wanted then he would have been. That's what I owe him.'

  Olivia was appalled at the depth of his bitterness.

  `Don't think about it like that. It might have happened anyway—even experienced climbers fall sometimes. And at least Victor is alive. You mustn't blame yourself. I'm sure Victor doesn't'

  He gave an angry laugh. No, he doesn't. He's as peaceful as if he never wanted to do anything but write music and spend his days in a chair. But I blame myself. That's why I've played Octavio along all these years. That's why I sank my pride to borrow money from him last year to set up my own company to patent my ideas. And that's why I'll do anything,' his voiced hardened, `to keep him from foreclosing. That little company means independence for Victor.'

  Olivia swallowed. 'I understand,' she said again in a small voice.

  `How can, you?' he demanded, still angry. 'You've never lacked money in your life.'

  'I have lacked independence, however,' retorted Olivia. In the darkness the tears were now coursing freely down her cheeks, but she retained a commendable command over her voice. 'And I told you, I will keep my promise.'

  Luis expelled his breath in a long sigh. 'Oh, Olivia,' he said. 'Little one, I never meant to tell you all about it like this. It's not your problem and I said I'd look after you, didn't I? And now you're having to hear all my family troubles'

  `That's all right.' Her voice sounded clipped and almost uncaring, so fierce was the effort to staunch her tears. 'Part of a wife's duties, I'm told.'

  `Then you'll be a perfect wife,' he said caressingly, putting an arm about her stiff shoulders.

  `Don't!' She almost screamed it, flinging away from him as if she had been burnt.

  Luis stood quite still.

  `Don't touch me,' she said in a panting voice. 'I've told you I'll keep my promise and I will. I'll marry you and you

  can do what you like with the money. It's a fair bargain, after all. That's what I contracted for—freedom from my family. And that's what I want: freedom, privacy. Do you understand that? I don't want to
be petted for being a good girl and not making a fuss,' cried Olivia with unmistakable sincerity. 'I want to be left alone!'

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE wedding took place on a splendidly sunny Tuesday. Bride and groom were a photographer's delight and it was not just the expensive professional specially imported from Mexico City for the occasion who was pleased with the results. Subsequent prints showed what looked to be the perfect wedding day.

  The house, filled with exquisite flower arrangements by Elena and her mother, had flung open all its doors and windows to the garden. Tables in the sun, tables in the shade, tables in the cool interior, all were loaded with a wealth of local delicacies. And uniformed waiters hired for the occasion helped the household to serve the guests with as much food and wine as they could digest.

  The bride, attended by her cousin and Anamargarita Cisneros, looked charmingly frail, her fair beauty thrown into relief by the darkness of the ladies about her. She was very pale, but brides are allowed to be nervous after all and the blaze of her hair was a good strong focal point in all the sentimental photographs taken of her. One or two showed the white hands clenched so tightly that the knuckles strained. Those with the more subtle colour film in their cameras could pick up a hint of shadow under her eyes. But, with the good food and company, no one observed it until their photographs were returned to them.

  Luis noticed, however. He had not seen Olivia before the short ceremony performed in the drawing room and her pallor when, assisted by Elena, she put back her veil, caused him to frown. Afterwards, while they were standing between his mother and the Villas, he bent to her.

  `Are you not well?' he asked in an under voice. 'Do you want to sit down? I can stop this charade now, if you like.'

  `Charade?' Olivia, thinking he referred to the wedding, flinched, though it was not so far from what she had been calling it to herself that morning. Sitting in front of her dressing table for a last despairing adjustment to her headdress she had felt quite sick. At the hypocrisy of it all, as she told herself.