come with you, senhorita?' he suggested.
Juliet shook her head. 'I think not,' she said a little dryly. 'I have quite enough problems as it is.'
Miguel advised her to take the coast route which circled the island. 'It is the most attractive,' he said, putting a hand up to shade his eyes. 'If you continue towards Miscaela, a village further along from here, you will see a sign for Venterra Montanah. It is a place in the hills where there is a small inn. They make the most delicious coffee!' He kissed his fingers extravagantly.
'Well, thank you, Miguel,' said Juliet, and smiled at Teresa who refused to meet her eyes but sat staring mutinously at her own fingers.
Yet, in spite of Teresa's silence, and the obvious atmosphere she created, Juliet enjoyed the drive. Miscaela was just a fishing village as Miguel had said, but Venterra Montanah was something special. The inn was situated on the edge of a cliff, almost hanging over the valley below. To get there Juliet had to negotiate some of the worst bends she had ever encountered, and even Teresa held on to her seat, her face flushed with apprehension at times. But it was all worth it, and although Teresa could not get out of the car, Juliet parked it overlooking the valley so that they could see the view while they had coffee, and continental pastries.
Teresa ate the pastries, drank her coffee, but said nothing, in spite of Juliet's several attempts to get her to do so. She hoped she had not done any harm, bringing the girl up here. If she were emotionally disturbed still from the accident, Juliet was surprised. To her, all Teresa's emotions were generated from a genuine affection towards the man who had brought her to Venterra. And after all, that really was her job: to help destroy that particular illusion of Teresa's, not pander to it.
The journey down was almost as hair-raising, although by then Juliet had foreknowledge of the curves. They arrived back at the quinta soon after twelve-thirty, and as Consuelo had told her that lunch was ho until one-thirty, Juliet thought she had timed everything perfectly.
Miguel was there to restore Teresa to her wheelchair, which he did very capably, and despite Teresa's attitude, Juliet took charge of it again, wheeling her through the arched entrance into the courtyard, and across to the patio where the Duque was standing, leaning against a balcony pillar, talking to the small dark woman Juliet had seen only briefly the day before, Estelle Vinceiro.
He straightened at their approach, and gave Juliet the benefit of his inscrutable gaze. 'You have been out, senhorita?'
Teresa did not allow Juliet to answer before she burst into speech, a stream of incoherent Portuguese that seemed anything but polite. But this time the Duque jaised his hand, and said:
'Speak English, Teresa. As Senhorita Summers stays here at my instigation we will not ignore her presence. '
Teresa cast a malevolent glance at Estelle Vinceiro, and then, putting her hands on the manipulating wheels of her chair, she moved across to the Duque.
'Senhorita Summers made me accompany her on a sightseeing tour of the island!' she exclaimed tremulously.
'Is this so, senhorita ?' The Duque frowned.
Juliet heaved a sigh. 'Yes, of course. Why not? Teresa needs to get away from the quinta sometimes. It is not good for her to be cloistered here.'
The Duque's lips thinned. 'Did it occur to you, senhorita, that Teresa may not yet find travelling in a car acceptable?'
'Acceptable?' Juliet bit her lip. 'Do you mean because of her accident?'
'Of course.'
'Then I would have thought the sooner she got used to travelling in a car again, the better,' said Juliet quickly. 'If Teresa is still disturbed, which I personally doubt, by car riding, then she should endeavour to overcome the feeling, not pander to it!'
'I agree.' Estelle Vinceiro crossed her slim legs smoothly. 'Felipe, don't imagine your niece is made of sugar, she will not melt away.'
The Duque drew out his case of
Juliet shook her head. 'I think not,' she said a little dryly. 'I have quite enough problems as it is.'
Miguel advised her to take the coast route which circled the island. 'It is the most attractive,' he said, putting a hand up to shade his eyes. 'If you continue towards Miscaela, a village further along from here, you will see a sign for Venterra Montanah. It is a place in the hills where there is a small inn. They make the most delicious coffee!' He kissed his fingers extravagantly.
'Well, thank you, Miguel,' said Juliet, and smiled at Teresa who refused to meet her eyes but sat staring mutinously at her own fingers.
Yet, in spite of Teresa's silence, and the obvious atmosphere she created, Juliet enjoyed the drive. Miscaela was just a fishing village as Miguel had said, but Venterra Montanah was something special. The inn was situated on the edge of a cliff, almost hanging over the valley below. To get there Juliet had to negotiate some of the worst bends she had ever encountered, and even Teresa held on to her seat, her face flushed with apprehension at times. But it was all worth it, and although Teresa could not get out of the car, Juliet parked it overlooking the valley so that they could see the view while they had coffee, and continental pastries.
Teresa ate the pastries, drank her coffee, but said nothing, in spite of Juliet's several attempts to get her to do so. She hoped she had not done any harm, bringing the girl up here. If she were emotionally disturbed still from the accident, Juliet was surprised. To her, all Teresa's emotions were generated from a genuine affection towards the man who had brought her to Venterra. And after all, that really was her job: to help destroy that particular illusion of Teresa's, not pander to it.
The journey down was almost as hair-raising, although by then Juliet had foreknowledge of the curves. They arrived back at the quinta soon after twelve-thirty, and as Consuelo had told her that lunch was ho until one-thirty, Juliet thought she had timed everything perfectly.
Miguel was there to restore Teresa to her wheelchair, which he did very capably, and despite Teresa's attitude, Juliet took charge of it again, wheeling her through the arched entrance into the courtyard, and across to the patio where the Duque was standing, leaning against a balcony pillar, talking to the small dark woman Juliet had seen only briefly the day before, Estelle Vinceiro.
He straightened at their approach, and gave Juliet the benefit of his inscrutable gaze. 'You have been out, senhorita?'
Teresa did not allow Juliet to answer before she burst into speech, a stream of incoherent Portuguese that seemed anything but polite. But this time the Duque jaised his hand, and said:
'Speak English, Teresa. As Senhorita Summers stays here at my instigation we will not ignore her presence. '
Teresa cast a malevolent glance at Estelle Vinceiro, and then, putting her hands on the manipulating wheels of her chair, she moved across to the Duque.
'Senhorita Summers made me accompany her on a sightseeing tour of the island!' she exclaimed tremulously.
'Is this so, senhorita ?' The Duque frowned.
Juliet heaved a sigh. 'Yes, of course. Why not? Teresa needs to get away from the quinta sometimes. It is not good for her to be cloistered here.'
The Duque's lips thinned. 'Did it occur to you, senhorita, that Teresa may not yet find travelling in a car acceptable?'
'Acceptable?' Juliet bit her lip. 'Do you mean because of her accident?'
'Of course.'
'Then I would have thought the sooner she got used to travelling in a car again, the better,' said Juliet quickly. 'If Teresa is still disturbed, which I personally doubt, by car riding, then she should endeavour to overcome the feeling, not pander to it!'
'I agree.' Estelle Vinceiro crossed her slim legs smoothly. 'Felipe, don't imagine your niece is made of sugar, she will not melt away.'
The Duque drew out his case of
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