The Mountains of Spring Read online

  Not once, in the course of lunch, had Diego mentioned her brother’s name. Not once—in her hearing, at any rate—had he made any reference to the reason for her presence in Mexico. He had made hardly any attempts to include her in the general conversation, and she could only wonder, now, why on earth he had brought her out to lunch. He was not, she was fairly certain, suffering from any feelings of remorse where she or her brother were concerned, and as far as she could see there was no rational reason why he should wish her to make the acquaintance of his fiancée. She could only suppose that he had hoped the meeting would embarrass and humiliate her. Although if that were the case he would surely, in the course of conversation, have made a little more of her relationship to one of his ranch hands.

  They all walked out together into the oven-like atmosphere of the carpark, and at the earliest possible opportunity Caroline spoke to Diego.

  ‘May I go back to my hotel now?’ She was conscious of the fact that she sounded stiff and thoroughly resentful, and she didn’t care in the least.

  With an air of mild surprise, he turned and looked down at her. His lean, strong left hand was guiding the progress of Isabel Dominguez’ wheelchair; his right had just been engaged in pointing out for the benefit of the invalid some salient feature of the view spread in front of them.

  ‘You are so anxious to be quite alone?’ he enquired.

  She was a little breathless from hurrying to catch up with him, and her words came out in a torrent, falling over one another. ‘I shan’t be alone at the hotel. Now that Peter knows I’m here he might go along there when he comes back tonight, and I wouldn’t want to miss him. You don’t need to drive me—I’ll go back inside and ring for a taxi. Thank you very much for the lunch, but—’

  He stood still, and Senorita Dominguez, her progress temporarily halted, looked enquiringly over her shoulder.

  ‘What is the matter, amado?’

  ‘Merely a small matter that has to be sorted out.’ He looked at Caroline. ‘You believe that your brother will be returning from Mexico City tonight?’

  ‘Well, won’t he?’

  ‘He will not. My manager told me this morning that he had instructions to complete a certain transaction. The horse he was taking to the races has been sold, and he was to arrange the final formalities with the buyer. It will necessitate his remaining in Mexico City for the night.’

  ‘But … but this is ridiculous!’ Looking more bewildered than angry, she passed a hand across her forehead. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  He looked very faintly apologetic. ‘It … hardly seemed necessary, senorita. I did not imagine that you would still expect to see your brother today.’

  ‘Well, I—I did!’ She bit her lip, and a tremendous feeling of superstitious uneasiness welled over her. It was almost as if she wasn’t meant to see Peter again. What if something happened to him in Mexico City? She bit her lip again, very hard, and realized that both the Mexican women were watching her with polite curiosity. Feeling as if she wanted to scream, she said: ‘I’d still like to go back to my hotel, if you don’t mind.’

  Although she didn’t see it, for she wasn’t looking at him, Diego Rivel smiled at her, and it was rather an attractive smile.

  ‘I refuse to say that I don’t mind, senorita, but if you wish it—if you wish it—I will of course drive you back to the Vista de Oro at once. I am sure the Senora and Senorita Dominguez will forgive me.’ He glanced briefly down at Isabel. ‘But on the other hand, if you don’t insist upon returning to your isolation, perhaps something could be arranged.’ Another glance at the Mexican girl. ‘I had planned that we should now drive into the mountains, and have dinner at some small posada, but we could just as easily drive to Mexico City, meet your brother, and have dinner there.’ He placed a hand on the shoulder of the girl in the wheelchair. ‘Would you mind, Isabelita?’

  Senorita Dominguez shrugged. ‘Not I. We would not have so far to travel home, Mother and I, and in this heat I am exhausted already.’

  Her mother, on being appealed to, expressed considerable enthusiasm for the plan, and only Caroline was silent. She knew how much happier she would feel if only it were possible for her to see Peter tonight, but she hated the idea of being under any sort of obligation to his employer. Why did he suddenly have to torment her by being kind? At last she looked up at him uncertainly.

  ‘I can’t let you change your plans…’

  ‘Nevertheless, Miss Ashley, I have already changed them. Clearly, the idea of going straight back to Mexico City appeals to everyone. We shall go, even if it is necessary for me to return you to your hotel first.’

  ‘In that case …it’s very kind of you, and I would like to go.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  They came to the cars—his own sleek white one, now smothered in dust, and the ponderous American limousine which was the property of the two women. Caroline discovered that she and Senora Dominguez were to travel in the latter vehicle—which was driven by a uniformed chauffeur—while Isabel, who had begun to look rather more fretful than usual, was to occupy the passenger seat of the sports car. The business of transferring her from her wheelchair to the car was quite an operation in itself, but Diego managed it effortlessly, declining all offers of assistance from the chauffeur, and by the time she had been deposited with the utmost care on the scarlet leather seat she was looking considerably less ruffled, Caroline followed the oldest lady present into the back of the limousine, and with the minimum of noise and manoeuvring the two cars followed one another out on to the dusty brown roadway.

  An hour and a half later they were running into Mexico City, and as the dominating shape of the Latin-American Tower came into view against the intense dark blueness of the afternoon sky Caroline blinked and gave herself a little shake, for she had very nearly been asleep. The events of the day had tired her, and her companion’s conversational resources had dried up at a very early stage. Several times they had lost sight of Diego’s car, which was travelling ahead of them, but just as she roused herself it became visible again, and in fact it seemed to be slowing down.

  After a few moments it pulled into the side of the road and stopped, and in obedience to some sort of signal the Dominguez’ chauffeur also began to slow down, and finally came to a halt a short distance behind. Diego climbed out into the road, and the Senora wound down her window to speak to him. He was looking at his watch.

  ‘It is now five o’clock,’ he observed, peering into the big car’s shadowy interior. ‘Miss Ashley, it will be best if we go first to the house of Senora Dominguez, where she and her daughter will leave us for a while. I shall then drive you to my grandmother’s house. There, you will be able to rest and prepare yourself for the evening. At half past seven I will return to collect you.’

  Caroline began to feel slightly alarmed. ‘It sounds rather—well, formal,’ she ventured hesitantly. ‘I—I shan’t be able to dress, or anything like that.’

  He raised his eyebrows a little, and she had the feeling that he wondered why it should have occurred to her to bother him with such an irritating triviality. But she noticed that he didn’t advise her not to worry about it, as an Englishman in such circumstances would almost certainly have done.

  ‘My grandmother will arrange something,’ he said vaguely. He hesitated for a moment longer, then straightened himself, bowed to the Senora, and returned to his own car.

  They pulled out again into the mainstream of traffic pouring into the city, and when they came to a halt again twenty minutes later, it was outside a tall, brown Colonial-style house which was evidently the home of the Dominguez family. It was situated in a quiet street, and there was a brooding feeling of old Mexico about it. It intrigued Caroline, and as she stepped out on to the pavement and stood looking up at it she felt that she would have liked to have seen inside. But although the Senora invited both her and Diego to go in and accept a glass of sherry the suggestion was obviously little more than a formality, and in any case it d
idn’t seem, for some reason, to appeal to Diego.

  He drove her to his grandmother’s house largely in silence, and when they arrived she got the impression that he was rather relieved to find the old lady very much at home—in fact, sitting in the patio. Her delight at seeing Caroline was transparently obvious, and the girl felt both touched and uncomfortable. Did the Senora, she wondered, know about her grandson’s treatment of Peter? And if she did know, what did she really think about it?

  With the utmost possible brevity, Diego explained the reasons for Caroline’s return to Mexico City, and once or twice, as she listened, Senora Rivel glanced at the English girl rather keenly, as if wondering what she was thinking and feeling. But when the explanations were over she merely smiled, and remarked that Caroline had better not attempt to return to her hotel that night.

  ‘You must spend the night here,’ she insisted. ‘You must stay here for as long as you like. We will telephone your hotel.’

  Caroline felt uncomfortable. Charming as the old lady was, she had no wish to become too deeply indebted to any connection of Diego Rivel, and in any case there was no particular reason for her to make a prolonged stay in Mexico City. But she was grateful for the invitation to spend this particular night under the Senora’s roof and she said so.

  ‘It’s terribly good of you. But I mustn’t put you to too much trouble…’

  ‘My dear child, it will be a great happiness to have you here—and in that I am being quite honest.’ At this point Diego, who had been hovering in the background with an air of slight impatience, made his grandmother a small bow, and remarked that he had better be going.

  ‘I shall return at half past seven,’ he told Caroline. ‘You will be ready by then?’

  ‘Of course she will,’ the Senora tranquilly assured him on Caroline’s behalf. ‘Go away and leave us. When you come back, Miss Ashley will be waiting for you.’

  He bowed again, and turned away, but just as he was about to get back into his car Caroline plucked up the courage to say something for herself.

  ‘Where are we meeting Peter?’ she asked. And rather nervously she added: ‘He doesn’t know I’m here yet, does he?’

  ‘No, senorita. Naturally not.’ His tone was rather dry. ‘And I don’t yet know where we shall be meeting him. I do not know what arrangements he may have made with the gentleman who is purchasing my horse. That is an important transaction, and must not be interfered with.’

  And before she could say another word he had climbed back into the driving-seat, let in the clutch, and driven smoothly out of the courtyard. The Senora placed a hand beneath Caroline’s elbow, and drew her into the house.

  ‘Don’t be angry,’ she advised, the suspicion of a smile at the back of her dark eyes. ‘Diego intends you to meet your brother tonight. He wishes to be kind. But he is also a little ashamed of being kind … Do you understand me?’

  In the shadowy coolness of the circular entrance hall, Caroline stood still. ‘Senora, I am angry. You are being good to me, so I think I ought to tell you that.’

  ‘I know.’ The old lady shrugged slightly.

  ‘Diego let you go to that dreadful, depressing house, and you found that your brother had gone. And then you discovered that Diego had bought the ranch and that your brother was working for him, and—of course you were angry.’ She smiled rather ruefully. ‘I thought it was very wrong of my grandson to let you go to Toluca without telling you what had happened. I liked you—as I still do like you—and I did not want you to be upset. But …’ She looked a little helpless. ‘He thought it was the best way for you to find out. I am sorry. You will forgive me, yes?

  ‘But it’s not your fault, senora. Not at all. I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Well, if you will forgive me, I hope you will try to forgive Diego too? I tell you,’ with an engaging Spanish persuasiveness, ‘he is trying to be kind!’

  To her confusion, Caroline felt herself blushing. ‘I—I don’t want to be ungrateful…’

  ‘Then that is excellent! And now, we will find you a nice dress for the evening. My niece, who comes to see me every summer, leaves half her wardrobe here, and she is just your size. We will find you something charming. Tonight, I think, you must be beautiful!’

  And she beamed at Caroline as if she had just been presented with a brand new toy.

  CHAPTER IV

  By the time Diego Rivel returned, punctually at half past seven, to collect Caroline, she was looking and feeling transformed. At the time of her arrival in Mexico City that afternoon she had been feeling hot, dishevelled and exhausted, and she had not been looking forward in the very least to the prospect of dining that evening in the company of her brother’s employer and his elegant Mexican lady friends. She couldn’t begin to understand, for one thing, why she or Peter should have to have dinner with them. Surely the autocratic Senor Rivel was not in the habit of inviting ranch-hands and their relatives to share entertainments planned for the benefit of his fiancée?

  But, now that she had had time to think things over properly, she realized that Peter’s status could not be nearly as humble as his employer, for reasons best known to himself, had allowed her to believe it was. He had been trusted with the handling of a transaction which was, apparently, very important—the sale of a valuable racehorse—and it was beginning to look as if, on the whole, despite his position, Diego had no hesitation in treating him as a social equal.

  So as she stepped into the lighted courtyard to meet her escort she was feeling decidedly happier—and, although she didn’t realize it, she was also looking quite shatteringly attractive. The Senora’s niece, it seemed, possessed an extensive wardrobe, and her taste was excellent. Caroline had been very reluctant, at first, to accept the loan of one of her dresses, but the Senora had insisted that nothing would please Catarina more than to be of use on such an occasion, and the English girl had to admit that she could hardly go out to dinner in Mexico City dressed exactly as she was, in a travel-stained linen suit. She and the old lady went into the matter together, and after due deliberation their choice finally fell on a delectable short white evening dress, with a high waistline and a skirt composed of several layers of floating chiffon. With it she wore a pair of Catarina’s fragile silver sandals, and by the time she was finally ready she looked almost ridiculously young and slight and ethereal. The Senora’s eyes positively sparkled.

  ‘My dear, you are hermosisima!’ she exclaimed. ‘It is perfect. I thought at first it was a pity that Catarina had left no jewellery here, and that my own was too old and heavy for you, but now I see that it could not be better. No adornment at all … One should not try to paint the lily, as you say in England.’

  Caroline blushed. ‘You don’t think the dress might be too formal?’ she asked shyly. ‘We might not be going to the right sort of place for it.’

  ‘You will be … with Diego.’ The old lady looked at her rather anxiously for a moment. ‘You are not really quite happy about this evening, I know. You would prefer to meet your brother in private … especially,’ with a small shrug, ‘in view of the circumstances. But no doubt there will be other opportunities, and tonight Diego obviously wishes you both to have dinner with him.’

  ‘The Senora and Senorita Dominguez will be there too,’ Caroline couldn’t help pointing out.

  ‘Those two! Yes, I know.’ A curiously wry smile. ‘He asked me to go too, but it is not the kind of entertainment I enjoy.’ Unexpectedly she put out a hand, and her small beringed fingers touched Caroline’s. ‘Don’t be nervous, chiquita. You look so charming, and there is nothing to be afraid of. Diego will look after you … and I am sure you will have a chance to talk quietly to your brother.’

  But no sooner was Caroline established beside Diego, in the front seat of his car, than she discovered that the likelihood of her getting an opportunity in the course of the evening to have a quiet word with Peter had dwindled still further. Her escort had stared at her very fixedly as she greeted him and got into the car, but
he had said nothing but ‘good evening’, and although she was fairly certain that he didn’t disapprove of her appearance it seemed clear that he had no intention of paying her a compliment. He appeared to be in a thoughtful and rather abstracted mood, and after he had closed the door upon her and climbed back behind the steering-wheel he sat for several seconds in silence. Then he turned the key in the ignition, and as the engine began to throb they crept gently under the archway and out into the street.

  ‘We are to meet your brother at the Casa d’Espana,’ he told her. ‘It is a night-club.’ With the merest hint of a smile he added: ‘A very respectable night-club, I assure you. Your brother will not be alone—the gentleman who has bought my horse will be with him. We shall all have dinner together.’

  ‘But …’ Caroline turned her head to look at him. She was angry and astonished. ‘Is that necessary? Surely any business they had to discuss must have been settled by now? Was it—was it Peter’s idea to bring him?’

  ‘Senorita, you forget that your brother has a job to do. He and this gentleman had arranged to have dinner together. The deal has been concluded, certainly, but I decline to allow a man to be treated with discourtesy simply because he has written out a cheque in my favour and I have little more to gain from him.’

  Caroline was silent. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said stiffly, after a moment. ‘I know we are all your guests, and—and I shouldn’t argue with your arrangements. But I have come a long way to see Peter.’

  ‘And very soon you will see him, senorita,’ he assured her coolly.

  Amid dense, swirling early evening traffic they swung round a corner into the Paseo de la Reforma, and ahead of them, etched against the fading blue of the sky, Caroline saw the tall, slender shape of the Column of Independence. It reminded her vaguely of Nelson’s famous column in Trafalgar Square, but instead of the familiar figure of a one-armed admiral its summit was dominated by a huge gilded angel, who had the appearance of having been placed where he was for the purpose of keeping a benevolent eye upon the city. At this particular moment, the angel’s outspread wings were just catching the last rays of the sinking sun, and they gleamed like burnished gold above the tired green of the trees that lined the square. As she caught sight of it, Caroline uttered a little exclamation of pleasure, and Diego glanced sideways enquiringly.