Red Lotus (3 page)

She assured herself that she could have no interest whatsoever in the business pursuits of the Marques de Barrios, even if she had felt drawn by the fascinating Don Rafael almost from the moment of their first meeting. He had been courteous and kind, doing his best to make a stranger feel welcome on the islands where he made his home, and even now he was carefully selecting a meal for her from the long and puzzling menu which he hoped she would enjoy. She had already forgotten his reference to the difficulties with which she might find herself faced at San Lozaro. Difficulties, she considered, were meant to be faced, and her uncle was surely very much the man in authority in his own house.

The suggestion of a strong, almost a dominating personality, had come through very clearly in his recent letters to her, and she could remember her mother saying that "Robert was always a very determined sort of person who generally got his own way." All of which did not sound as if Philip Arnold could be anything more than an agent or an overseer on the San Lozaro estate.

Well, she would soon find out for herself. Although not too soon! This pleasant, delightful interval in her long journey to the distant valley where her uncle had settled made everything so much easier. She was freed from the embarrassment of asking directions in her inadequate Spanish, and the meal which was finally set before them could never have been achieved by her own choice. She felt grateful and relaxed as Don Rafael poured the native wine he had ordered into her glass and lifted his own to propose a toast to the future.

"We shall meet again," he said, his darkly-luminous

eyes holding hers across the blood-red wine. "That is to be expected. But may it be—quite soon!"

After that Felicity found it easy to be gay in his company. He told her something of the history of the island to which they would travel when their plane eventually arrived, showing no impatience at the fact that it was already an hour late.

"Something will have happened," he shrugged. "It is frequently so, but you will learn not to care about time when you have settled down at San Lozaro. Time will pass you by there and the care of time, provided there are no complications."

She did not want to ask him about possible complications now. She was prepared to wait, already accepting in essence the meaning of the Spanish manana. Tomorrow was time enough. Tomorrow, when she would awaken to a new day at San Lozaro and a succession of such days under her uncle's roof.

When the plane came in her companion looked up regretfully.

"And now we must go," he said, rising to collect her coat. "Our little interlude is ended. It is no more than a single hop to Tenerife."

Out in the sunshine again, Felicity wished that they had more time to spare. She would have liked to go down into Las Palmas with Don Rafael as her guide, because already she was aware that he could have shown her the true Spanish scene as no one else could have done. He was completely responsive to the sunshine and the laughter and the blue skies of these fortunate islands in spite of the dignity which he seemed to force upon himself at times.

He had shown her, too, that he liked her and wished her to know more of the golden islands of this lost Atlantis where he had made his home.

Suddenly she knew that her own desperate need was to feel welcomed in a strange land, that, ever since her' mother's death, she had felt desolate and alone, without roots or ties in a world where such things were wholly essential. She had wanted her uncle to be at Las Palmas to meet her and he had not come, so that she was doubly grateful to this man who thought that she should have been welcomed.

Perhaps Don Rafael found difficulty in Understanding the English coldness or matter-of-factness which thought that Santa Cruz was far enough. He had said something of the kind and she had half resented it, but now she knew that it was only because he himself would not have considered time or distance any obstacle to such a meeting. The essence of the man was to live for the moment, but perhaps that had its attractive side, too.

"I'm rather worried about my uncle having to wait all this time at the airport," she confessed as they walked with the other travellers across the hot landing-strip to where their plane waited. "He hasn't been very well lately, and the sun is very hot."

"I don't think you need worry," Don Rafael said, the frown reappearing on his brow. "Your uncle will have found something to do in the meantime. He will already know that the plane is late."

She accepted his assurance as he found her a seat and put his brief-case down on the one adjoining.

"If you will excuse me," he said, "I will see how long we are going to be before we get away."

Settled in her seat, Felicity looked out through the porthole at the little ripples of sunlight dancing along the wings and her heart lifted, as if at an omen of happiness. This was a lovely land! If it were only for the sunshine itself, it had been well worth coming. She felt it on her skin like a caress, and thought that nothing she could find at San Lozaro could posibly dim it.

After all, it would be like coming home in a good many ways. Robert Hallam was her mother's brother and the cousins she had yet to meet were her own flesh and blood.

When the plane climbed into the cloudless blue above the airport a small stirring of excitement was already rising in her heart. This was journey's end. This was the answer to all her hopes and doubts and fears of the past few months, and this, too, was the future.

Her eyes strained ahead for the first glimpse of the island that would be her home, and it was Rafael de Barrios who pointed it out to her.

"However you may come to the islands, it is always El Teide that dominates," he said, pointing downwards to where a great conical peak rose skywards out of a circle of attendant cloud. Its crest was wreathed in snow, flushed

pinkly in the rays of the westering sun, and about it there was a remoteness which struck chill into Felicity's heart. "It is there from the sea and from the air, always the one thing, above all others, that first strikes the eye."

Felicity was still looking at The Peak. The great mountain seemed completely separated from all contact with the land beneath, isolated beyond its barrier of cloud, aloof and cold even under the flush of sun on its lofty crest. She could see it, even then, as the spirit of the island, the presence which man looked at and feared.

"It's volcanic, of course," she said.

"Its origin was volcanic," Don Rafael agreed, "but there hasn't been a major eruption for many years. Here and there, apart from the great cone itself, there have been minor rumblings, but nothing serious has come of them. No," he smiled, "El Teide is a benign and quiet giant now, and none of his subordinates are worth mentioning."

Felicity continued to stare at The Peak, fascinated. Its absolute majesty held her speechless, and even when they dropped beneath the level of the clouds which wreathed it, she could still see that remote summit glittering in the sun.

The plane skimmed in over La Laguna and touched down on the airstrip before she spoke again.

"How far is San Lozaro from The Peak, Don Rafael?" she asked.

"Not very far." He looked at her oddly. "But then, El Teide dominates the entire island, as I have said. You must learn to live with him, to accept him in many moods, or he will have his own revenge!"

She smiled involuntarily.

"I don't think he can frighten me away," she said. "Already I am fascinated by your remote giant of a mountain, Don Rafael. Already, I suppose, I am his slave!"

"So!" he murmured. "He will be kind to you. And now," he added more prosaically, "we must look out for your uncle."

He helped her down the steps and Felicity stood on the tarmac blinking in the bright sunlight. The airport was built on a high stretch of the island and a cool little wind blew down from the surrounding mountains. She found herself in need of her coat, and instantly Don Rafael had laid it across her shoulders.

"It is always cool up here at this time of year," he said, "but soon we will go down again along the coast."

He was looking beyond her, scanning the small groups of waiting people at the edge of the runway as they walked away from the plane, and once more she saw him frown.

It was then that she remembered that she might not recognize her uncle from the description her mother had given her of him. Living for most of his life out here, might not Robert Hallam look very much like any other planter on the island?

"I ought to have warned Uncle Robert to wear a red carnation!" she smiled. "I haven't seen him since I was three years old."

Don Rafael was still scanning the bronzed faces of the smiling groups ahead. They were nearly all men. Only one woman, dressed in deepest mourning and clutching a small child by the hand, stood out among them, her black draperies etched sharply against the cream linen suits and light-coloured hats of the men.

"Your uncle does not seem to be waiting." Don Rafael's eyes had gone beyond the waiting groups to the line of cars parked on the gravelled sweep leading from the main Laguna—Santa Cruz road, and the frown between his dark brows had deepened. "It is unusual for anyone on the island to fail to meet a plane," he added.

Following his concentrated gaze, Felicity was aware of the first stirrings of anxiety. She had been perfectly sure that her uncle would meet her, had, in fact, been looking forward to just this moment for the past three weeks, and she knew that no trivial thing would have delayed him. Besides, the plane was over an hour late. He should have been at the airport an hour ago, or at least lingering in the nearby town.

Before she could voice her fears, however, a large black car came swiftly along the deserted highway and turned in between the airport gates. She followed its progress eagerly, unaware that the man by her side had stiffened involuntarily at sight of it, the frown black on his face, his lips thinned and cruel-looking as he watched.

"You are met," he said, "after all. Yonder is the car from San Lozaro, but it is not your uncle who brings it."

Felicity was conscious of the keenest disappointment which was instantly tinged with anxiety.

"Can something have happened?" she asked breathlessly. "Can my uncle be ill?"

Don Rafael did not answer her. He stood very stiffly and very silently by her side as the man who had come to take her to San Lozaro got out from behind the steering wheel and came towards them.

He seemed to have no hesitation about her identity, and it was minutes before Felicity remembered that she had been the only woman passenger on the plane.

In these minutes she was aware of a man taller even than her travelling companion, a sparse, almost gaunt-looking man with a lean, brown face and firm jaw, whose piercing blue eyes were the colour of the distant sea. He came purposefully across the hot tarmac, striding towards them in a manner that was unmistakably English and as unmistakably assured. His whole attitude suggested that he had little time to spare for meetings or lingering sociably in the sunshine.

"You are honoured," Don Rafael murmured at her elbow. "But I wonder what has brought the taciturn Mr. Philip Arnold all this way to meet you?"

Felicity could not reply. Her questioning gaze had met Philip Arnold's, aware now that the blue eyes held nothing but anger and distrust.

"Miss Stanmore?" His voice was abrupt, almost impatient, as he put the question. "My name is Arnold," he added. "Philip Arnold. I am the agent on your uncle's estate."

He had not looked in her companion's direction, but Felicity was quite sure that he had recognized Don Rafael and disapproved of him It was even more than ordinary disapproval, she felt, as the suggestion of an intense and bitter antagonism rose between them, making her feel unsure and curiously at a loss as she sought for something conventional to say with which to bridge the gap.

"It was very kind of you to come to meet me, Mr. Arnold," she acknowledged, holding out her hand. "But—my uncle—"

The expression in the blue eyes changed as Philip Arnold glanced back towards the car he had just left. The engine was still running, accentuating the suggestion of impatience which she had felt so strongly at their first contact, and it seemed that he was eager to drive away.

"I'm afraid my news is not good," he said. "Your uncle had a serious relapse during the night and the doctor was still with him when I left San Lozaro just over an hour ago."

"Oh—!"

The colour ran swiftly out of Felicity's cheeks and only the firm pressure of Philip Arnold's strong brown fingers seemed to steady her as she stood there with the cold little wind from the mountains brushing against her. In some way it seemed to have entered her heart, like the chill premonition of disaster, although the sun still shone brilliantly above her and the wide expanse of the heavens was very blue.

"We can talk more easily in the car." Philip Arnold released her hand and turned towards the waiting vehicle. "I should like to get back to San Lozaro as quickly as possible."

For the first time he looked in Don Rafael's direction, and the Marques bowed and smiled a little mockingly.

"Good day, Philip!" he said briefly. "We have not met for quite a long time. But then, I have been much away from the island and you are not socially inclined. Is it not so?"