shoulder. “I would prefer it if I could have my meal upstairs—”
Instantly his eyes flashed as if she had annoyed him.
“That,” he returned, “is not permissible. From now on you will remember that you are not just a nursemaid, you are a companion to Ricardo, and you must be a companion to the senhora, also. She will need you ! On every occasion that she is likely to require support from you you must give it!”
CHAPTER NINE
BUT Ilse failed to give the impression that she needed much support when Caroline sought her out in the suite of apartments that had been placed at her disposal during her stay in the quinta.
They were three very charming rooms, a bedroom, dressing-room and sitting-room. They had long windows overlooking the gardens, and there were balconies with protective awnings on which she could recline when the sun was hot, or she wished to be alone. The furnishings were positively sumptuous, and even Ilse seemed particularly gratified by them as she stood leaning up against the dressing-table in her white-carpeted bedroom and allowed her eyes to rest on the cascades of satin-damask, and the glimpse of ebony and silver in the bathroom.
“What a mediaeval set-up!” she exclaimed, when Caroline and Richard joined her. “I feel like the princess in the tower stowed away here, and it’s an ivory tower, too! I’ve an idea I’m going to be unusually comfortable.”
She had cast her enormous pale pink hat on to the bed, and it lay there like an island of soft rose lost in a sea of embroidered cream-coloured satin. Looking at her, Caroline wondered whether the fact that she was a widow and wore no black had struck even a temporary chord of displeasure in the breast of Dom Vasco. The Marques was so obviously much more easy-going that it might not have struck him in any particularly significant way, although in a country where women wore some sort of black most of the time it could have appeared a little alien.
Ilse was smoking a cigarette in a long ivory holder, and she was smoking it as if she had not enjoyed a cigarette for some time.
“Duarte may appear amiable, but he doesn’t approve of women doing this,” she said, crushing out the cigarette beneath her heel on the balcony outside the open window. “But he’s a pleasant surprise, isn’t he?” one corner of her mouth quirking upwards in an amused smile as she glanced over her shoulder at Caroline. “Not at all what I expected, or had been led to believe. I thought he’d be positively doddering, and a perfect martinet. But he’s not. He’s a lamb!”
She extended a hand to Richard, but there was no repetition of the motherly effusiveness or the fr ying need that she had displayed downstairs. She ran her fingers through his hair and remarked that he really was looking very fit and well, and then made a thoughtful reference to Dom Vasco while she lighted another cigarette.
When I caught sight of him on the ship I was astounded,” she confessed. “He looks so frightfully aristocratic that I thought, at first, he was the Marques, and then I realised he was much too young.” She inhaled luxuriously, and her green eyes glowed as if they had been lighted up from within. “Much too young!” she repeated.
“ He is in control of the Marqu e s’s estate, and he also happens to be a relative,” Caroline told her.
Ilse nodded.
“ Yes; I’ve learned all that since my arrival. Duarte is quite attached to him.”
“Was it because you—thought he looked rather interesting that you decided to fly to Portugal?” Caroline enquired, without any changing of her expression.
Ilse smiled at her.
“You know me quite well, don’t you? I never could resist a handsome man! Carlos was handsome, you know ... that’s why I married him. But unfortunately he never had his fair share of the family fortune.”
“And what about Mr. Prentice ? ”
“I suppose you could say he ditched me.” She looked angry for a moment, and then she shrugged
Instantly his eyes flashed as if she had annoyed him.
“That,” he returned, “is not permissible. From now on you will remember that you are not just a nursemaid, you are a companion to Ricardo, and you must be a companion to the senhora, also. She will need you ! On every occasion that she is likely to require support from you you must give it!”
CHAPTER NINE
BUT Ilse failed to give the impression that she needed much support when Caroline sought her out in the suite of apartments that had been placed at her disposal during her stay in the quinta.
They were three very charming rooms, a bedroom, dressing-room and sitting-room. They had long windows overlooking the gardens, and there were balconies with protective awnings on which she could recline when the sun was hot, or she wished to be alone. The furnishings were positively sumptuous, and even Ilse seemed particularly gratified by them as she stood leaning up against the dressing-table in her white-carpeted bedroom and allowed her eyes to rest on the cascades of satin-damask, and the glimpse of ebony and silver in the bathroom.
“What a mediaeval set-up!” she exclaimed, when Caroline and Richard joined her. “I feel like the princess in the tower stowed away here, and it’s an ivory tower, too! I’ve an idea I’m going to be unusually comfortable.”
She had cast her enormous pale pink hat on to the bed, and it lay there like an island of soft rose lost in a sea of embroidered cream-coloured satin. Looking at her, Caroline wondered whether the fact that she was a widow and wore no black had struck even a temporary chord of displeasure in the breast of Dom Vasco. The Marques was so obviously much more easy-going that it might not have struck him in any particularly significant way, although in a country where women wore some sort of black most of the time it could have appeared a little alien.
Ilse was smoking a cigarette in a long ivory holder, and she was smoking it as if she had not enjoyed a cigarette for some time.
“Duarte may appear amiable, but he doesn’t approve of women doing this,” she said, crushing out the cigarette beneath her heel on the balcony outside the open window. “But he’s a pleasant surprise, isn’t he?” one corner of her mouth quirking upwards in an amused smile as she glanced over her shoulder at Caroline. “Not at all what I expected, or had been led to believe. I thought he’d be positively doddering, and a perfect martinet. But he’s not. He’s a lamb!”
She extended a hand to Richard, but there was no repetition of the motherly effusiveness or the fr ying need that she had displayed downstairs. She ran her fingers through his hair and remarked that he really was looking very fit and well, and then made a thoughtful reference to Dom Vasco while she lighted another cigarette.
When I caught sight of him on the ship I was astounded,” she confessed. “He looks so frightfully aristocratic that I thought, at first, he was the Marques, and then I realised he was much too young.” She inhaled luxuriously, and her green eyes glowed as if they had been lighted up from within. “Much too young!” she repeated.
“ He is in control of the Marqu e s’s estate, and he also happens to be a relative,” Caroline told her.
Ilse nodded.
“ Yes; I’ve learned all that since my arrival. Duarte is quite attached to him.”
“Was it because you—thought he looked rather interesting that you decided to fly to Portugal?” Caroline enquired, without any changing of her expression.
Ilse smiled at her.
“You know me quite well, don’t you? I never could resist a handsome man! Carlos was handsome, you know ... that’s why I married him. But unfortunately he never had his fair share of the family fortune.”
“And what about Mr. Prentice ? ”
“I suppose you could say he ditched me.” She looked angry for a moment, and then she shrugged
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