Fallen Angel. Anne Mather
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But pride, and necessity, had taken the choice of working conditions out of her hands, and she had been prepared to sacrifice her desire to remain in England for the very adequate salary Jason had offered her.
The road widened as they reached the grassy lower slopes of the valley, and now they could see the river that meandered beside banks bright with golden rod and curiously yellow poppies. There were cows grazing beside the river, not the wild-eyed beasts they had seen on their journey, but fat, placid-looking creatures that were more interested in cropping the grass than watching their passage. As they neared the homestead, Alexandra saw the corrals where they kept the mares and their foals, and nearer at hand, shaggy-haired goats and chickens that scuttled out of their path.
But the hacienda itself riveted her gaze. Now, she could see that the low-hanging tiles were a deep red in colour, shading a balcony above the verandah, where rattan chairs suggested a shady retreat on hot afternoons. Right now, with the sun sinking lower every minute, the air was comparatively cool, unlike earlier in the day when Alexandra had had to discard the jerkin that matched her blue cotton pants. Beyond the verandah, she could see a shadowy hallway, framed by the sprawling cluster of vines and honeysuckle which had made their home around the pillars that supported the balcony. At the side of the building, a wrought-iron staircase wound, Spanish-fashion, to the upper floor, and along the balcony Alexandra could see long curtains moving in the breeze from open shutters. The shutters were all folded back at present, green slats against a pale-washed wall, as distinctive in their way as the riot of exotic blossoms that tumbled carelessly from urns beside the verandah steps.
Unable to suppress her delight, Alexandra bounced forward again, but Jason was already stopping the vehicle, and as he began to open his door a woman appeared round the corner of the building. She was young, that much Alexandra registered at a glance, tall, with full swelling breasts, and hair as dark as Jason’s own. It was long, like Alexandra’s, but whereas hers was inclined to curl in the heat, this woman’s was perfectly straight, and fell smoothly over one shoulder. Her features were those of the Madonna, calm and impassive, but as Alexandra alighted from the vehicle, too, she felt a wave of hostility emanating from her that had none of the Virgin’s compassion about it.
Jason greeted the woman with a faintly wry expression, turning first to help his other passenger to climb down, before saying: ‘This is my housekeeper, Miss Holland. Señora Vargas. Estelita, this is my ward—and her companion.’
‘Hello.’
Alexandra stepped forward, holding out her hand, determined not to be daunted by this sloe-eyed female. Close at hand, she was not half as young as she had at first imagined, but she was not mistaken that the faintly contemptuous stare Estelita conferred upon her sleeveless vest and creased cotton pants was intended to intimidate. The woman’s attire of long black skirt and loose-fitting blouse was common to women she had seen in Valvedra, but Estelita bestowed a certain grace upon them which was not typical.
Now, she allowed Alexandra to take her limp hand before saying: ‘Bienvenida, señorita!’ in tones which said just the opposite.
‘Inglés, Estelita,’ Jason warned in an undertone, and the housekeeper greeted Miss Holland in her own language, showing more enthusiasm towards the older woman than she had done to the younger one.
‘Come inside …’ Jason was already mounting the steps, and Alexandra quickly followed him meeting his gaze deliberately as he looked back at them. But he refused to answer the question in hers, and strode ahead into the cool, tiled hall of the hacienda.
The walls were plain and adorned with small plaques of saints. There were flowers in a copper bowl, huge lilies with thick creamy petals, and orchids, fragile and exotic. There were jewel-bright rugs and a hand-carved chest, and wind-chimes that whispered in the draught of their passing. No one would have taken it for the home of an Englishman, and yet Alexandra felt a sense of homecoming she had never experienced before.
Gazing at the circular window above the gallery of the first floor landing, whose prismatic light slanted down to the hall below, she hardly realised Jason had left her, or that Miss Holland and the woman, Estelita, had come to join her. Until the housekeeper spoke.
‘You would like to see your rooms?’ she suggested politely. ‘I will show them to you while Pepe prepares some tea.’ She addressed herself to Miss Holland. ‘You would like some tea, señora, I am sure.’
‘Tea!’
Miss Holland made an obeisance of the word, but Alexandra suddenly realised that Jason was not with them, and looked about her in faint annoyance. Several doors opened from the wide hallway, and through open doors she could see an inner courtyard, but she had no way of knowing where he had gone. Estelita, taking her silence for acquiescence, was already beginning to mount the wrought iron staircase that circled the hall, and Miss Holland was eagerly following.
It was irritating to have to go with them. Alexandra wasn’t tired. On the contrary, she was exhilarated, and all too eager to explore her new domain. Jason! she thought impatiently. He must have known how she would feel, and yet he had left her to Estelita’s less than friendly overtures.
Her room temporarily overcame her annoyance. Large, and high-ceilinged, it overlooked the whole sweep of the valley, and although the furnishings were not luxurious, their very spareness was attractive. Long woven beige curtains matched the woven bedspread, and the dressing table and long clothes closet left plenty of room for the velvet-cushioned prie-dieu in the corner. Two candles could be lighted on either side of the carved wooden cross, and Alexandra was enchanted to discover that the candles were hand-made, too. Miss Holland’s room was next door, very little different from that of her charge, and Estelita explained that there was only one bathroom, unfortunately.
‘The men use the showers down at the bunkhouse,’ she said, when Miss Holland revealed her dismay, and Alexandra asked who she meant.
‘Why—Jason, sin duda,’ she explained with a slight curl to her lip, ‘and Ricardo.’
‘Ricardo?’ Alexandra frowned, noticing the familiar way Estelita spoke of her employer. ‘That would be—Mr Tarrant’s foreman?’
‘That is correct.’ Estelita’s black eyes were insolent. ‘You will meet him at supper, no doubt. Now …’ She turned once more to Miss Holland. ‘If you will excuse me, I will see about your tea.’
‘Of course, of course.’
Miss Holland was only too willing to agree, but she followed Alexandra into her room when the woman had gone, and sank down rather wearily onto the bed.
‘Do you think you’re going to be happy here?’ she asked, as the girl walked rather thoughtfully towards the open balcony doors, and Alexandra looked back at her with some misgivings.
‘Why do you ask that?’ she exclaimed, trying to subdue the irritating feeling of anti-climax she herself was feeling, and her companion gave a somewhat helpless shrug of her shoulders.
‘I get the feeling we’re not altogether welcome,’ she confessed, taking out her handkerchief and wiping the grime of the journey from her rather anxious features. ‘Oh, not from Mr Tarrant, of course. He’s been charming. But Señora Vargas …’
‘Estelita,’ said Alexandra firmly, more firmly than she was actually feeling, ‘Estelita is the housekeeper, that’s all. I don’t intend to let a housekeeper intimidate me!’
‘Do you think that’s all she is?’ asked Miss Holland doubtfully, unexpectedly voicing those fears which Alexandra had succeeded in keeping hidden until that moment. ‘She seems—very much in command to me.’
Alexandra determinedly squared her shoulders. ‘Well, maybe she is, at that. But she’s not in command of us, Miss Holland, and that’s what matters.’
The older woman gave a rueful smile. ‘Oh, for the arrogance of youth!’ she murmured, a trifle anxiously, and then started when a male voice spoke brusquely behind them.
‘Is everything all right?’
It