The Winding Stair by Jane Aiken Hodge

Author:Jane Aiken Hodge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 1968-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

‘Try again, Juana. You can do it, I’m sure.’ Daisy sounded brisk as a governess. ‘Keep your hands still, head up, and off you go.’

The retaining wall of the terrace was warm under Juana’s elbows as she gazed out across the cliffs to the wild Atlantic that had been lashed to fury for three days by a spring gale. You could not see the waves break below, but you could hear their thunder and see the spray tossing, from time to time, as high as the cliff. Now, at last, with evening, the March sun was shining and the three girls had come out on to the terrace for Juana’s elocution lesson.

It had been a great success, she thought, asking Daisy and Teresa to help her try and master her stammer. This way, they could bully her to some advantage, and, this way, she did not mind it. Who had changed the most, she asked herself, looking affectionately at Daisy and Teresa, she or they? It was hard to remember the bad old days back in England when their teasing used to bring on her stammer. Of course, they were happy now. It showed all over them and she smiled to herself, thinking of Pedro and Roberto’s constant visits. And then, of course, her own position was so different. As heir to the castle, she came next, now, to her grandmother in the curious Portuguese hierarchy of respect.

She thought this horribly hard on Pedro and Roberto, but Gair Varlow inevitably pleaded patience. She had only to wait, he said, and sooner or later, the Sons of the Star must commit themselves, must strike – and be destroyed. But their January and February meetings had been curiously inconclusive. It was more and more obvious that whatever the rank and file might feel, the leaders proposed to wait for active support from Napoleon before they struck. And Napoleon was far off in Eastern Europe, where he and the Russians had fought, at Eylau, one of the bloodiest and most inconclusive battles in human memory. This news had been reported at the February meeting in the great cavern, but the messenger had had few words of encouragement for his Brothers of the Star, ‘The French call it a victory,’ he said, ‘but the Russians sang Te Deum for it. Till he has conquered them, Napoleon will have no time or thoughts to spare for us.’

‘Juana, what are you dreaming about?’ Daisy’s impatient voice brought her back to the present, to the roar of the sea below and the warm sun on the terrace. She shivered a little, just the same, as if the chill of the dark cell were still in her bones.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I was thinking about something else.’

‘Mr. Varlow perhaps?’

‘Good gracious, no. I only think about him when the weather is bad. Today’s much too fine. But, come, let’s to work. I know it by heart, I think.’ She fixed her eyes on the distant, dimly seen promontory

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