Читать книгу Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper - Maggie Cox, Maggie Cox - Страница 8

THERE was indeed a heavy snowfall that night, as the fruit vendor had predicted. After surveying the cloak of sparkling white that blanketed her garden as well as the street outside the next morning Marianne tidied the house, made herself a hot drink, then tinkered with an unfinished song she’d been composing on the piano. But her mood was not buoyant, and she struggled to stave off the sense of melancholy that kept threatening to overwhelm her. Finally, unable to bear the enforced isolation a moment longer, she donned a warm coat, boots and a hat over her jeans and sweater and went outside.

The ice in the air snatched at her breath, making her eyes water, but her spirits lifted at just being out in the open again. She took herself off for a long, if laboured walk, due to the impediment of snow, into the park nearby. Just watching the children toboggan down the glistening frosted hillside and hurl snowballs at each other restored her sense of perspective and her good humour. And if any thoughts of the childhood she’d experienced, which had been bereft of similar happy times and feeling secure started to threaten, she firmly pushed them away, knowing it was pointless to contemplate such things when her cheerful mood could so easily regress to one of despair.

By the time she returned home she’d made a vow to fight off any gloomy recollection that might seduce her into unwanted misery. She simply would not allow herself to go there. But by mid-afternoon, when early darkness had descended, impelling her to turn on all the lamps again and draw the curtains, Marianne was sitting in an armchair in front of the fireplace, watching the flames lick round the burning coals and crackling twigs, and considering the prospect of life on her own again for the foreseeable future. Donal would be so mad at her for sitting here feeling sorry for herself! That was for sure. And suddenly she was crying. An unstoppable flow of hurt and sadness long dammed up could no longer be contained—making her weep until she was utterly spent and could cry no more.

Taking herself off to bed, she curled up in a foetal position, drawing the duvet right over her head, feeling numbed and empty. Just before she closed her eyes she swore to herself she would never indulge in such futile self-pity again. Tomorrow was a new day, and when the morning light came it would herald a new and more positive beginning. Marianne was adamant about that.

However, on lifting a corner of the bedroom curtains the following morning and being confronted by an even thicker blanket of snow, with a fresh shimmering fall of delicate white descending before her very eyes, she had to draw on every ounce of resolve not to be downcast. During the night she had made her mind up about something, and today there was plenty to occupy her towards implementing that decision.

Donal’s adult children—Michael and Victoria—had contested the will that he’d made, leaving his house and all his belongings to Marianne. For nearly eighteen months she’d endured formal, aloof and cruel letters from their solicitor, stating the reasons for their dispute and insinuating that both she and their father had not been of sound mind, and now she had had enough. They could have the house and everything in it. She would leave it to them without a backward glance or a single regret.

She was certain Donal would forgive her. Everything he’d done for her in helping to restore her low self-esteem and encouraging her to believe in her talents and abilities she totally appreciated, but the truth was Marianne did not want to be beholden to anyone any more. Not even her deceased husband. She needed to be free again…free to live her life the way she chose—however that looked to anyone else. So, from the house she would take just her clothing, her guitar, and what little savings she had put by. Everything else—even the gifts Donal had bought her during their short-lived marriage—she would leave to his avaricious children.

Galvanised into action, she spent the day cleaning the house, restoring stray books to shelves, packing up her things and moving furniture back to where it had been when she had first moved in with Donal. Her body throbbed with satisfying warmth from a job well done, and she was too physically tired to allow even one negative thought to invade her mind. And that night…that night she slept like a baby.

But when she woke the next morning to find that the snow still hadn’t cleared, and with no prospect of getting into town to play her guitar and sing—knowing she would be mad even to try—Marianne impulsively found herself searching for the business card Eduardo de Souza had insisted she take. Lifting the telephone receiver in the hall, she dialled his home number with shaking fingers. Even as she dialled she called herself all kinds of fool for contemplating such a reckless path.

But she could be snowbound for days, she thought, genuine dread invading her as she waited for someone to pick up at the other end. And now that she’d made the decision to leave and forge a new life, a new future, she was eager to put the past behind her and start again. Something had to be done to help improve her situation besides overcoming her fear of performing in public and accepting that she was now on her own again. Unlikely as it seemed, this might, just might, be it.

‘Hello?’ an accented male voice answered.

‘Is that Mr De Souza?’ Marianne ventured, her heart beating like a military tattoo.

‘No. May I ask who is calling?’

It must be his valet, she realised, and taking a deep breath she said clearly, ‘Marianne Lockwood. Is he available to speak?’

After a pause the man replied, ‘Wait a moment, please. I will see.’

There were several times after the man went to locate his employer that Marianne almost put the phone down. What was she doing? she asked herself. She didn’t know the first thing about being a housekeeper, and neither did she know what kind of an employer Eduardo De Souza would turn out to be. No doubt he would be overly serious and exacting, finding constant fault should she fail to measure up, examining her with that intense stare of his and making her rue the day she’d made the impulsive decision to go and work for him.

Yet beneath the cacophony of doubt and apprehension that raged inside her, a stronger more positive instinct was urging Marianne to go for it and give it a try.

‘Marianne?’

Her prospective employer’s voice—impatient and a little out of breath, as if he’d been interrupted in the middle of something and resented it—sounded in her ear.

‘Hello, there. It’s Marianne—the busker from town,’ she explained, a light tremor in her voice. ‘I—I hope you don’t mind me ringing, but you said…’

‘What is it that you need?’

Marianne glanced up to the heavens for courage. ‘A job…and a home,’ she replied, then made herself breathe deeply and mentally count to ten, so that she didn’t succumb to her fears and change her mind. ‘Are you still looking for a housekeeper?’

Sweat broke out on Eduardo’s brow. The visiting physiotherapist might have been a torturer straight out of the Spanish Inquisition, he thought grimly as the man manipulated his scar-criss-crossed leg into yet another excruciatingly painful position to test its flexibility. He swore…loudly. The therapist looked startled and carefully moved his patient’s leg back down onto the treatment couch with a murmured apology. Staring up at the ornately plastered Victorian ceiling in the library as he lay there, Eduardo sensed his racing heart slowly return to a more normal rhythm.

‘Are we finished?’ he asked, gravel-voiced.

The sandy-haired physio gave him a respectful and sympathetic smile. ‘I agree you’ve probably had enough for now, Mr De Souza. My advice is to take it easy for the rest of the day. Try and get some proper rest tonight, and don’t overdo things.’

‘Do they teach you at medical school to come out with these clichéd platitudes?’ Eduardo remarked irritably, swinging his legs over the side of the table and ignoring the other man’s immediate move to help him.

Unoffended, the man smiled again. ‘Sometimes rest really is the best course of action when dealing with any kind of physical trauma,’ he explained. ‘The body needs to access its own powers of healing, and rest gives it the opportunity to do that. I realise it may have been a little uncomfortable for you today, but the fact is your leg is definitely recovering from that last operation. Another month or two and you should notice a significant improvement when walking. I can practically guarantee it.’

‘Give me your hand,’ Eduardo muttered, and accepted help to stand—though it psychologically pained him to accept anyone’s help these days, when he had previously been so fit and able.

Hearing the heavy oak front door open downstairs, then shut again with a sonorous clunk, he remembered that he’d instructed Ricardo to take the four-by-four and go and collect Marianne. Ironic that he had been reflecting on his resistance to accepting help when he had just effectively hired a girl he had only recently met to come and live in his house and act as his housekeeper!

What had made her change her mind about accepting the post? he speculated. Perhaps it wasn’t so difficult to deduce. Common sense had simply prevailed, and the plummeting temperatures had forced her to make a more sensible decision about her living and working arrangements after all. At least now he would not have her wellbeing on his conscience, as he imagined her standing at the roadside singing and ending up in hospital with hypothermia!

‘Sounds like you’ve got company,’ the therapist said cheerfully. ‘Why don’t you let me tidy up here, then I’ll be on my way?’

‘Ricardo…Take Miss Lockwood’s coat and hang it up, if you would, and when you’re done perhaps she would like a mug of hot chocolate to warm her up? We will be in the sitting room.’

Watching Ricardo help their visitor out of her too-large tweed overcoat and then leave, Eduardo skimmed his gaze over the medley of colourful clothing the girl wore underneath, and the curtain of long rippling hair over which she’d jammed the quite outrageously bright cerise woollen hat. He frowned.

‘It might be a good idea to remove your hat too,’ he suggested, the urge to smile suddenly too overwhelming to resist.

‘Oh. I forgot.’ Grabbing it off her head, Marianne stuffed it into the large bag made up of multi-coloured velvet squares that she’d temporarily left on the smooth marble floor in front of her.

For a few moments static electricity turned her light brown hair into a wild and silken tangle, and Eduardo could not help but stare at the arresting picture she made. A cinematic image of Mary Poppins the quintessential eccentric and pretty English nanny appeared in his mind. She sang too, he remembered, this time without amusement. Being bereft of the child he might have had, he was in no need of a nanny but a housekeeper. Someone who might help make his day-to-day living in self-imposed exile a little more bearable and smooth-running.

‘Follow me,’ he instructed, moving down a corridor that led away from the generously proportioned hall, with its solid brass chandelier, and bypassing several closed doors before finally reaching one that was slightly ajar. Painfully and bitterly aware of his limp, he leaned a little too heavily on his walking cane and turned into the comfortably furnished sitting room. The only noise was the crackle and hiss of the blazing fire and the sedative ticking of the clock on the marble mantel. He stood aside to let Marianne precede him.

‘Oh, how beautiful!’

Her gaze was not on the room itself, he saw, but on the incredible view that the tall curved windows with their parted drapes displayed. Eduardo sensed an arrow of pride shoot through him as he stared through the unadorned glass at the silhouette of majestic firs against the navy blue skyline. Stars were dotted about like splashed pinpricks of luminous paint, and a dazzling crescent moon hung suspended as though it were a bright magical toy controlled by a master puppeteer. He heard her softly appreciative gasp of pleasure.

‘I told you that you would not be disappointed with the views, did I not? And it is nothing compared to what you will see in the daytime’

‘I’m almost speechless at the sight of it!’ Swinging her glance back in his direction, Marianne smiled at him with uncensored delight.

Again Eduardo had the disturbing sensation of his skin being too tight and hot to contain the avalanche of sensation that poured through him…a wave of sensual longing that was as powerful and unpredictable as El Niño…and prompted entirely by that bewitching smile. For a moment he could do nothing but stare. Automatically his mind took a snapshot of the captivating glowing features before him, and an old excitement that he had not experienced for ages pulsed strongly through his veins.

‘We could be in another realm,’ she enthused, greengold eyes shining. ‘However did you find such a place?’

‘My mother grew up in this area. Whenever she brought me here as a child I loved it. So when I was looking for a house I knew immediately where I wanted it to be situated. I visited several before I was shown this place. As soon as I saw it I knew it was the right one.’

‘You were right when you said it was remote.’As she secured the strap of her bag against her shoulder, Marianne’s expression was thoughtful. ‘When Ricardo was driving me here I didn’t see another house or building for miles!’

‘You are thinking maybe that it is too remote for your liking?’

‘I don’t think that at all. Seeing as I’m not someone who needs company all the time, being remote doesn’t bother me. Besides…being around people too much can really get to you after a while, and I’d go crazy if I didn’t have some peace and quiet to balance things out. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Clearly I do—or else I would not be living here.’ Eduardo smiled reluctantly, but he was genuinely surprised by the fact that she was apparently quite content with her own company. These days, when most people he observed seemed driven by the need for perpetual noise and distraction, it was positively unusual. ‘Shall we continue our discussion sitting by the fire?’

Once they were ensconced in comfortable leather armchairs, Eduardo followed Marianne’s mesmerised gaze to the dancing amber-gold flames. For a while companionable silence settled over them, like another softening blanket of snow on the desolate winter landscape outside.

‘Warm enough?’ he asked, almost reluctant to intrude upon the stillness and quiet with words.

Withdrawing her glance from the fire, she blinked at him as though momentarily forgetting who he was and why she was even there.

‘Oh, yes…perfectly warm, thanks. I expect you’re wondering why I changed my mind about taking you up on your offer,’ she said in a rush, her pale, slender-fingered hands twisting together restlessly in the lap of her red wool dress. ‘The truth is I suddenly realised that a change was what I needed after all. Being snowed in for three days certainly helped focus my mind on the subject! Although I was playing my music, doing what I loved, I was also in a bit of a rut. I figured it was time to try something different.’

‘So you decided to ring me after all?’ Linking his fingers steeple-like beneath his chin, Eduardo thoughtfully studied the pretty oval face and expressive hazel eyes before him. There were myriad conflicting emotions behind that arresting gaze that he couldn’t help but wonder at. Was she running away from something…some cruelty or unhappiness that she hadn’t revealed? Something like an abusive relationship, perhaps?

‘I did. You—you didn’t mind?’

‘I would not have given you my card if I minded.’

‘I just wanted to make sure.’

‘And can I ask about the jobs you have had previously—before this?’

‘Well. I…’ Briefly Marianne’s attention returned to the fire, where a hot coal sizzled brightly before settling more deeply into the nest of flames. ‘I’ve worked in shops, mostly…a large clothing store, then a music store selling instruments and sheet music…that kind of thing.’

‘You must have been in your element there.’ Eduardo remarked, already knowing that music was a passion for her—the same as the career he had chosen had once been a passion for him. He quickly quashed the thought.

‘I was.’ The bewitching smile returned, naked and unguarded, and it was as though someone had brought a rare and beautiful orchid into the midst of a grey concrete prison cell. ‘Look…I know I’m not exactly qualified to be a housekeeper, if you go by my previous employment, but I’m a fast learner, and I actually get great pleasure from doing the things that help make a house a home.’

‘Talking of home…where was it you last lived, Marianne?’ he enquired, intrigued. ‘A commune or a squat, perhaps?’

Her glance was perturbed. ‘No. It was a house that I shared with somebody.’

‘A boyfriend?’

‘No…not a boyfriend. Can we talk about the job and what the daily routine is? I’d like to get a feel for things as soon as possible, so that I won’t have to trouble you with too many questions.’

Reluctantly Eduardo curbed his curiosity. A businesslike approach to work was not what he had expected from someone who appeared as Bohemian as Marianne, but nonetheless it could hardly displease him, he mused silently. Not when he had begun to realise that established routines and a smooth-running household could sometimes help take the edge off the mental torture that plagued him, by acting as a sort of shield that could occasionally cushion him from the painful events of the past. For someone who had once been an inveterate risk-taker this was a revelation to him…even though he privately despised himself for succumbing to such appalling weakness.