The Mountains of Spring (2 page)

‘
If that is the case, and the Senorita Ashley has no other plans, perhaps she would accept the hospitality of my grandmother?
’
He reached into a pocket of his beautifully tailored grey suit, and extracted a small, neat card, which he handed to the doctor, who looked startled and stood up rather hurriedly.

‘
Senor Rivel! But the Senorita could not be more fortunate
!’
Rather agitatedly, he patted Caroline
’
s hand again.
‘
This gentleman
’
s family is very well known. With him, you will be perfectly safe. The Senora Rivel is a most gracious lady—most gracious
!
You are indeed fortunate,
senorita
!
’

Caroline looked bewildered.
‘
But I must see my brother.
’
Her eyes, which were large and very blue, were heavy with the strain of trying to understand what was going on around her, and her prettily shaped mouth, long since denuded of the last traces of lipstick, had begun to quiver slightly. She had a sort of idea that this strange man—this Mexican with
th
e
cold black eyes, who said he was a friend of Peter
’
s—was suggesting that she should stay with a relative of his, but obviously such a thing was out of the question. For one thing, she could not impose on him, or his relative, in such away, and for another there was something about him that frightened her a little.

‘
I have to catch a train
...’
she began weakly, and foolishly tried to stand up. Immediately everything began to turn upside down again, and the three faces grouped around her seemed to be advancing and retre
a
ting like something in a nightmare. Somebody said something sharply in Spanish, and a strong hand gripped one of her arms.

Waves of darkness swept over her, engulfing her, and then the whole world went black, and she lost consciousness.

When Caroline came to herself again she was reposing in the back of a car, and her aching head was supported by a cushion so soft that it might have been stuffed with thistledown. The seat on which she had been placed was superbly comfortable, too, and it was restfully dark inside the vehicle, although at intervals the glaring headlamps of other cars flashed past, and she could also see two or three street lamps. A dark uniformed figure, evidently a chauffeur, was hovering outside the car, close to the front right-hand door, and he was obviously waiting for someone. Dreamily, without even trying to work out exactly why she was where she was, or what might be going to happen to her, she lay watching the road, and after a minute or two she saw a
tall
man emerge from a brilliantly lit building on the
other side, and walk unhurriedly across to the car. The chauffeur sprang to open the door for him, and as he climbed into the front passenger seat Caroline
’
s memory stirred, and she recognized him as the man who had said he knew her brother. She struggled to sit up, and he turned in his seat to look at her.

‘
How are you,
senorita
?
’
His voice was cool and even, his accent barely noticeable.

Caroline began to feel dizzy again, and reluctantly let her head drop back on to the cushions.
‘
I
’
m
... better
.’
she asserted determinedly. But her voice was
sin
gular
ly
lacking in conviction, and her face, suddenly revealed by the lights of a passing lorry, looked pinched and white.
‘
Where are we going?
’
she asked anxiously.
‘
Are you—are you taking me to see Peter?
’

Diego Rivel gazed at her for a moment without the smallest trace of expression in his face. And then he turned away, to stare through the windscreen at the broad, brightly-lit highway stretching ahead of them.
‘
No, Miss Ashley. To-night you will stay in Mexico City.
’

‘
But
...’
Slowly, her head was clearing, and her bewilderment grew with every second that passed. She was also be
ginnin
g to feel rather alarmed. Who was this man, and where was he taking her? Was he really a friend of Peter
’
s?
‘
What—what happened on the plane?
’
she asked.
‘
I don
’
t remember...
’

‘
You fainted,
senorita.
And as I was the only person present who was in a position to take charge of you, I did so. You may remember my telling you that I was acquainted with your brother
.’

‘
Yes, but I
’
m not your responsibility. And I—I really think I
’
m all right now.
’
She tried lifting her head again, and this time she felt slightly less dizzy. A little stiffly, she said:
‘
I don
’
t even know your name,
senor
.’

The dark man beside the chauffeur replied without even turning his head.
‘
My name is Diego Rivel. The good Doctor Valentes assured you, I think, that I was perfectly respectable, and that you would be quite safe with me—or at least, with my grandmother. It is with my grandmother that you will stay until you are completely recovered.
’

‘
But,
’
Caroline protested,
‘
I don
’
t know your grandmother. And although of course it
’
s very kind of you to bother about me, I couldn
’
t possibly take advantage of your hospitality, or hers. Just because you
’
re a friend of Peter
’
s—
’

‘
I did not say, Miss Ashley, that I was a friend of your brother
’
s. However, I did say that I was acquainted with him, and I think it would be a little callous of me to let his sister collapse in the street in Mexico City, for want of a little timely assistance from myself—and my grandmother, of course.
’
The car began to slow down, and he added:
‘
Besides,
senorita,
when you have considered the matter you may not wish to travel on to Toluca. We shall see.
’
They were turning in beneath a lantern-hung archway, and Caroline saw that a pair of very elaborate wrought-iron gates had been flung wide to admit them. Her nostrils caught the scent of bougainvillea, and she sensed that somewhere near at
hand
there was an exotic garden. The car came to rest before a rather handsome carved front door, approached by a flight of stone steps, and Senor Rivel got out and rang some sort of doorbell.

Within rather less than thirty seconds the door was opened by a smartly dressed manservant, and there was a brief exchange in Spanish, at the end of which the cha
u
ffeur pulled Caroline
’
s door open, and his employer came back and bent down to look in at her.

‘
You are ready to alight,
senorita
?
’

She opened her mouth to protest again, and then decided that at this particular moment there was very little point in protesting. For one thing, she knew perfectly well that if she was going to be honest with herself she would have to admit that she had never in her life felt less capable of looking after herself. Diego Rivel
’
s, strong hand was being held out to her, and after hesitating for just a moment longer she accepted it gratefully, and allowed herself to be helped out of the car. To her relief, she found that she could now stand on her feet without feeling too extraordinary, and she boldly took a step forward. But that was just a little too much for her just then, and the ground started to reel beneath her, causing her to stumble against her companion. Fortunately, his
hand
had never left her arm, and she was in no danger of
falling
, but, almost as if annoyed with himself, he uttered a sharp exclamation in Spanish, and before she knew quite what was happening he had swung her up into his arms, and was carrying her up the steps.

She was borne past the impassive manservant, and into a brightly lit entrance hall, where vivid multicoloured rugs glowed warmly against the cool green tiles of the floor, and the white walls seemed lined with antique chests and cabinets made of mellowed Spanish oak. Almost in the middle of the floor, close to the foot of a curling staircase, there was a handsome brocade-covered couch, and on this Caroline was set down, while further discussions were entered into with the manservant, and finally Senor Rivel sketched her a small bow, and disappeared through a curtained doorway. Minutes later he reappeared, and this time he
w
as accompanied by one of the most minute elderly ladies Caroline had ever seen in her life.

Senora Rivel could not, in her stockinged feet, have been more than four feet eleven inches tall, and everything about her, from her tiny be-ringed fingers to her dainty Paris-shod feet, was reminiscent of some exquisite china doll, lovingly designed in every detail by the sort of craftsman who died out a long time ago. Her hair, which was silvery, was beautifully ordered, and her skin had that delicate pearly pallor which only the most fortunate of Spanish women possess when they are old. Even her nose was small and straight and aristocratic, and her magnificent dark eyes were the eyes of an Andalusian.

Caroline attempted to stand up as the older woman approached her, but she was not allowed to do so, for the Senora gave a small sign, and her grandson placed a hand upon the guest
’
s shoulder to restrain her.

‘
You are Miss Ashley? Miss Caroline Ashley?
’
The old lady
’
s English was very good, and her beautifully modulated voice had an old-fashioned gentleness about it.

‘Y
es
,
senora
.
’

Not offensively, but quite deliberately, the beautiful brown eyes studied her, obviously taking in and considering every tiny detail of her appearance. A pale English wraith, with fine, gleaming ash-blonde hair swinging to her shoulders and big blue eyes that just now were clouded with exhaustion; soft, creamy skin that at this particular moment was a little too pale, and an alarmingly bandaged forehead. The child looked, Senora Rivel decided, rather like an amazingly attractive apparition.

‘
You are hurt,
senorita
,’
she said, moving towards Caroline and lightly touching the bandage,
‘
and you are tired. You will be pleased to go to bed, I think.
’

Caroline made one more attempt at a protest.

;
But, Senora Rivel, I can
’
t possibly impose on you like this
...’

The Spanish woman smiled and patted her shoulder.
‘
Never mind, never mind. You do not impose. I am most pleased to have you here. In the morning, if you are better, we will talk, but not to-night.
’
She pressed an electric bell, and when, as if from nowhere, a uniformed maid appeared, she gave some rapid instructions in Spanish.

‘
Manuela will look after you,
’
she told Caroline, still
smiling
with the amazing serenity that made the whole thing seem strangely dream-like.
‘
You will go with her, please.
’

Obediently, Caroline stood up, and Manuela, a middle-aged Mexican woman of decidedly forbidding appearance, took her arm and propelled her towards the staircase.

As they passed him, Diego Rivel bowed slightly. But he did not return Caroline
’
s small, hesitant smile, and he did not bid her good-night either in English or in Spanish.

CHAPTER II

When Caroline awoke the following mor
ning
the first thing that impressed itself upon her was the realization that, apart from possessing a slight headache, she felt almost completely recovered from the effects of her accident. And the second was the recollection that she had absolutely no right to be where she was.

She sat up in bed, and looked around her at the room which had been allotted to her. It was a very large room, and it was expensively and luxuriously furnished—not in any traditional Mexican or Spanish style, for it was extremely
modern
, but everything in it had been selected with skill and a good deal of taste. Thick white fur rugs were scattered across the highly-polished golden floorboards, and there were comfortable-looking armchairs upholstered in a rosy shade of pink. Cascades of snowy net hung beside the wide windows—which just now were hidden by Venetian blinds—and more white net adorned the dressing-table. Everywhere there were silk-shaded table-lamps and attractive items of gleaming
modern
furniture, and on the walls had been hung one or two small, rather clever paintings, the principal ingredients of which appeared to be plenty of brilliant, forceful colour.

Despising herself for doing so, Caroline yielded to the temptation to relax once more against her pillows, and in the restful half-light imposed by the Venetian blinds set to work to think things over.

She had come to Mexico for a purpose. Officially, she was supposed to be on holiday, but her holiday was a precious
annu
al
period of freedom to which she looked forward and for which she planned throughout most of the preceding year, and it would certainly not have occurred to her to spend it in visiting one of the few foreign countries which had never held any attraction for her unless she had had a very good reason for doing so. If Peter, her brother, had not fallen in love with Mexico while travelling with an archaeological team and elected to settle down there she would probably never have thought of setting foot in the country.