suddenly, “I forgot all about it!”
“Abe, the harbourmaster, will have it sent up to you,” said Jason easily. “There were no other passengers on the Celeste, so there'll be no cause for concern.”
“Thank you.” Sarah lay back in her seat, and in doing so looked upwards, her eyes caught by the sight of the ruined walls of a house, just visible on a high, jutting headland above them. “What's that place? That ruin?”
Jason did not look up but kept his eyes on the curving road ahead. “That was the old Cordova house,” he replied quietly. “It was burned out about fifteen years ago.”
“Really!” Sarah was intrigued. “That must have been some spectacle, high above the island like that.”
“It was.” Jason's fingers tightened on the wheel, and Sarah, glancing at him, wondered why his expression had darkened in that way. Surely it was no concern of his.
The road was curving down again now, and the sea was getting nearer. They ran down a final incline and turned between wrought iron gates, which were the entrance to the drive of the Cordova house. Sarah saw a cream, colour-washed house, over-hung with pink bougainvillea, with balconies to all the upper windows, the doors of which stood open to the clean air. Storm shutters were bolted back and a stout pair of doors with wrought iron hinges guarded the entrance. A porticoed walk stretched round the building, and its white pillars gave a Grecian touch to an otherwise Moorish-styled dwelling.
Jason stopped the Land Rover at the foot of the steps leading up to the entrance, and without waiting for any assistance Sarah clamberd out. After the drive up the dusty road, she felt travel-stained and sticky, and she wished she might have a wash and brush-up before meeting her prospective employer. The blue poplin dress which had been so crisp and fresh on the ship was now limp, and clung to her body, outlining the curves of her rounded figure. She was a tall girl, but had always been taught that any self-adulation was wrong, so consequently had no idea how attractively moulded she was. But Jason was aware of it, and knew without a doubt that Irena would find her completely unsuitable. But in this, Irena's views were immaterial. The girl was to teach Sarah's children, and if Serena liked her, and the girl herself wanted to stay, she should stay.
As Jason walked round to join her, the front doors opened and three children appeared at the top of the steps. They were all dark-haired and olive-skinned, the two girls wearing their long hair in plaits, and they were all dressed alike in red and white striped shorts and red tee-shirts. They looked remarkably clean and smart, and Jason half-smiled as he studied Sarah's reactions.
“Make the most of it,” he said, dryly. “You'll rarely see them in this condition. I left orders that they should be here to meet you on my return – that's the explanation.”
Sarah moved her shoulders deprecatingly. “I hope in future you'll often see them tidily turned out,” she remarked. “Am I to understand that they usually run wild?”
Jason grimaced. “You might say that,” he agreed smoothly. “Shall I introduce you?”
The children descended the steps slowly, eyeing Sarah cautiously. They had never had a governess before, but they knew children who did, and they were unimpressed.
The youngest, Maria, lost her composure and flung herself exuberantly at Jason, chattering furiously in Spanish, and Jason said: “No, Maria, speak English. This lady has come to improve your English among other things, and I want you always to speak English in her presence, right?”
Maria made a face at Sarah, and Sarah gave Jason a startled glance. But he shook his head slightly and stood Maria on her feet. She guessed he meant that she should take it slowly with them, and with a sigh, she turned to the others. “Now,” she said, taking their hands, “you are Eloise and Ricardo.”
The children were silent, turning mutinous faces to Jason, and Sarah felt the first trepidation about these children. She did not know what she had expected, but used as she was to being liked instinctively by young people, she was unprepared for this antagonism. Particularly as they did not even know her yet!
They quickly released themselves from her hands and as Maria had done, flung themselves upon her companion. Watching them, she wondered again who he could be. He certainly did not act like a paid employee, and yet he dressed like one of the Africans. It was all most disturbing, and she was curious to have it explained to her.
“Come,” said Jason, at last. “It's time we were going into the house. It will soon be lunch time and Miss Winter needs time to shower and freshen herself.”
The children looked up at him. “Can we go now?” asked Ricardo.
“No. You may go to your rooms until lunch is ready.”
The children stared at him, and Eloise began to talk in Spanish again, and although Sarah could not understand all she was saying it was obvious it was something very rude, and Jason looked angry. He resorted to Spanish at last, and told them they were spoiled and unpleasant sometimes, and they must learn to do as they were told.
Sarah understood a little Spanish, and could speak it in like manner, but she did not expect to be able to talk with the children, for they spoke too fast and in this mood would not alter their speech to assist her. She foresaw quite a battle in the next few days.
As they mounted the steps to the house, Jason said: “Would you prefer to have a shower before meeting the children's mother?”
Grateful for his understanding, Sarah nodded. “May I?” she asked eagerly. “I do feel hot and sticky now.”
Jason nodded his head, and led the way into the house, into the wide marble hall which Sarah admired silently. The outside of the house had been beautiful, but this was very impressive. The wrought iron rail of the staircase wound into the upper regions of the house, and the scent of flowers was everywhere. There were great vases and bowls of them placed on every available table and in every corner the gentle perfume of roses mingling with the more exotic fragrance of oleander and hibiscus. The colours, too, were startling against the mosaic of the floor and the light panelling of the walls.
Sarah's curiosity about her companion was heightened when a Negro manservant appeared through an archway behind the staircase and said: “May I show the young lady to her room, señor? And the señora is waiting to see you.”
Jason's face darkened for a moment, and as he looked at Sarah, his fingers sought the line of the scar on his cheek. Then, as if becoming conscious of his action, he drew his hand away, and bowing politely, he said: “Allow me to introduce myself, señorita. I'm Jason de Cordova.”
Sarah's face suffused with colour. She was astounded. This man then was her employer, the man who had contacted Reverend Mother; the man she had thought to be merely an employee!
A cool, amused voice broke into her reverie, and she looked up in surprise. A small but startlingly beautiful figure had walked through another archway which led to the apartments to the right of the huge hall. She was dressed in an elegant silk dress of various shades of purple which suited her dark colouring to perfection; her small dainty feet were encased in very high-heeled sandals and on her fingers and wrists and round her throat sparkled a veritable fortune in diamonds.
“My dear,” said the voice, tinklingly but icily, “I can see from your expression that you thought my husband was one of his own employees!” Sarah blushed anew in confusion and embarrassment, and the woman went on: “It's quite understandable, of course. He dresses like a peasant because he
