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Authors: Jean S. Macleod
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expanded on either side, with broad arches leading from one section to the next and a central fountain which leapt high into the air to splash back into its ancient stone basin filled with waterlilies.
The main door of the house stood wide open, but nobody waited to greet them.
Don Jaime got out of the car and crossed the patio, while Teresa and Ramon took a little longer to follow him. There was no joy in this homecoming for Teresa, apparently, and Ramon put their luggage down on the flags and drove away. Don Jaime turned back at the door.
‘Leave them to Alfredo,’ he commanded as Teresa lingered beside the suitcases. ‘He will attend to them.’
Inside the house a great commotion had begun, with several female voices rising in unison somewhere at the rear of the hall, an excited chatter of servants as they realised that the master of the house had returned. Two of them appeared at an inner door, the older one smiling broadly, the younger painfully shy in the presence of a stranger.
‘Eugenie! Sisal’ he greeted them. ‘This is Miss Royce from England. You will attend to her, Sisa, while she remains here.’
The younger girl seemed pleased, although she did not step forward immediately, sheltering behind the older servant’s maturity. She was small and plump, with a mane of sleek, straight hair flowing around her shoulders and a broad face out of which glowed a pair of large, dark eyes.
‘ Si, si !’ she agreed eagerly, rushing off to help with the luggage.
Catherine glanced about her at the great hall with its beautifully tiled floor gleaming in the light of a magnificent wrought-iron lantern which hung from a central beam, and then, suddenly, she was aware of being watched.
A long gallery ran round three sides of the hall, reached by a magnificent branched staircase, and at the head of the stairs a woman stood waiting. In the shadows above them she looked extraordinarily tall in her long-skirted black dress which was wholly devoid of ornamentation, and the fact that her wealth of black hair was worn high and braided to form a coronet about her shapely head did nothing to detract from the illusion as she came slowly down the stairs towards them.
Lucia, Catherine thought. This was the present and, perhaps, the future mistress of Soria. It was then that she noticed the ruby. A large, unmounted stone, it hung by a slender chain round Lucia’s neck, burning against her bare flesh like fire as the light from the lantern leaped in its many facets, bringing them to glowing life. It was utterly magnificent, yet peculiarly evil in some curious, inexplicable way which she could not understand, a thing of beauty which could also destroy.
‘Lucia,’ said Jaime, ‘this is Teresa’s new tutoress, Miss Royce.’
Catherine met the dark eyes above the glowing ruby, conscious of the scarcely controlled fury in their depths.
‘How is this so?’ Lucia demanded, addressing her brother-in-law in Spanish. ‘It is not as we wished. You know that, Jaime! It is some mischief of that old woman, your grandmother. She is a viper! She is determined to have a finger in every pie!’
The smile faded from Don Jaime’s face.
‘Miss Royce may be younger than we expected, Lucia,’ he said quietly, ‘but she is also competent to teach Teresa, and this we must accept. A mistake has been made, but that is impossible to change now. Please see that she is welcomed to Soria in a reasonable manner and comfortably housed.’ He drew himself up to his full, commanding height. ‘Our hospitality must not be impaired by the fact that she is not what we expected.’
Lucia turned on the bottom stair.
‘Come this way,’ she said in halting English, as if she was almost reluctant to use the language which Don Jaime wished her stepdaughter to master. ‘I will show you to your room.’
Catherine followed her up the staircase, not quite knowing what to say. The slim, ramrod-straight back was as hostile-looking as Dona Lucia’s eyes
The main door of the house stood wide open, but nobody waited to greet them.
Don Jaime got out of the car and crossed the patio, while Teresa and Ramon took a little longer to follow him. There was no joy in this homecoming for Teresa, apparently, and Ramon put their luggage down on the flags and drove away. Don Jaime turned back at the door.
‘Leave them to Alfredo,’ he commanded as Teresa lingered beside the suitcases. ‘He will attend to them.’
Inside the house a great commotion had begun, with several female voices rising in unison somewhere at the rear of the hall, an excited chatter of servants as they realised that the master of the house had returned. Two of them appeared at an inner door, the older one smiling broadly, the younger painfully shy in the presence of a stranger.
‘Eugenie! Sisal’ he greeted them. ‘This is Miss Royce from England. You will attend to her, Sisa, while she remains here.’
The younger girl seemed pleased, although she did not step forward immediately, sheltering behind the older servant’s maturity. She was small and plump, with a mane of sleek, straight hair flowing around her shoulders and a broad face out of which glowed a pair of large, dark eyes.
‘ Si, si !’ she agreed eagerly, rushing off to help with the luggage.
Catherine glanced about her at the great hall with its beautifully tiled floor gleaming in the light of a magnificent wrought-iron lantern which hung from a central beam, and then, suddenly, she was aware of being watched.
A long gallery ran round three sides of the hall, reached by a magnificent branched staircase, and at the head of the stairs a woman stood waiting. In the shadows above them she looked extraordinarily tall in her long-skirted black dress which was wholly devoid of ornamentation, and the fact that her wealth of black hair was worn high and braided to form a coronet about her shapely head did nothing to detract from the illusion as she came slowly down the stairs towards them.
Lucia, Catherine thought. This was the present and, perhaps, the future mistress of Soria. It was then that she noticed the ruby. A large, unmounted stone, it hung by a slender chain round Lucia’s neck, burning against her bare flesh like fire as the light from the lantern leaped in its many facets, bringing them to glowing life. It was utterly magnificent, yet peculiarly evil in some curious, inexplicable way which she could not understand, a thing of beauty which could also destroy.
‘Lucia,’ said Jaime, ‘this is Teresa’s new tutoress, Miss Royce.’
Catherine met the dark eyes above the glowing ruby, conscious of the scarcely controlled fury in their depths.
‘How is this so?’ Lucia demanded, addressing her brother-in-law in Spanish. ‘It is not as we wished. You know that, Jaime! It is some mischief of that old woman, your grandmother. She is a viper! She is determined to have a finger in every pie!’
The smile faded from Don Jaime’s face.
‘Miss Royce may be younger than we expected, Lucia,’ he said quietly, ‘but she is also competent to teach Teresa, and this we must accept. A mistake has been made, but that is impossible to change now. Please see that she is welcomed to Soria in a reasonable manner and comfortably housed.’ He drew himself up to his full, commanding height. ‘Our hospitality must not be impaired by the fact that she is not what we expected.’
Lucia turned on the bottom stair.
‘Come this way,’ she said in halting English, as if she was almost reluctant to use the language which Don Jaime wished her stepdaughter to master. ‘I will show you to your room.’
Catherine followed her up the staircase, not quite knowing what to say. The slim, ramrod-straight back was as hostile-looking as Dona Lucia’s eyes
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