The Wings of Ecstacy Read online

  As the train moved off he commented to Zena,

  “It’s always pleasant to receive an unsolicited testimonial. Do you think I will make a good Arch-Duke?”

  “Not if you behave as you did in Paris!”

  Kendric laughed.

  “I suppose I should apologise to you. At the same time I enjoyed myself and it will be something to remember when I am at Dusseldorf.”

  The way he spoke made Zena realise again how much he was dreading the thought of a year under Prussian military authority.

  She put out her hand to say,

  “We must neither of us regret anything we have done, but just be glad that we were lucky enough to know such happiness.”

  The way she spoke made her brother aware of how much she was suffering, and after a moment he said,

  “If I were on the throne, I swear Zena, I would make it possible somehow for you to marry the Comte and live happily ever afterwards.”

  “Thank you, Kendric,” Zena said, “ but although it is an agony to know that I will – never see him again – I shall always be glad that I knew and loved such a wonderful man – and he loved me.”

  Kendric sighed and there was nothing he could say to comfort her.

  After they had travelled for some miles in silence, Kendric muttered,

  “Don’t forget that we are now the Comte and Comtesse de Castelnaud.”

  “I had forgotten,” Zena replied and wished she could continue to be Zena Bellefleur.

  *

  When they reached the Professor’s house, which was on the outskirts of the small village of Ettengen, a tall redbrick ugly building that looked, Zena thought, rather like a school, they were both wondering what the Countess and the Baron had done about their disappearance.

  “I can tell you one thing,” Kendric said as they drove from the station in a hired carriage, “our watchdogs, if they have not run tittle-tattling to Papa, will be waiting to bite us. So be prepared for a very uncomfortable reception.”

  He had not exaggerated and the only thing that mitigated the anger of those waiting for them was that they had arrived sooner than they had said they would.

  When they walked into the house and were shown into the room where the Countess and the Baron were sitting with the Professor, the exclamations at their appearance and the recriminations they received made it impossible for them for some time to make any explanation.

  Then at last with an authority Zena thought Kendric had never shown before he said sharply,

  “That is enough. My sister and I have not returned to be scolded as if we were schoolchildren!”

  He looked towards the Professor before he said,

  “First, Mein Herr, I must apologise to you for not arriving when we were expected. But Her Royal Highness and I have missed only a few days of our tuition and we can easily make up the time lost if we apply ourselves to our studies as we both intend to do.”

  Zena saw at once that the Professor was somewhat mollified and, thinking that Kendric had started off on the right foot, she said,

  “As I am tired after my journey, I should be grateful, Herr Professor, if somebody could show me to my bedroom, and, if it is possible, I would like a cold drink. It was exceedingly hot in the train.”

  The Professor hurried to give the orders and the Countess with her affronted dignity showing itself with every word she spoke showed Zena upstairs to a quite pleasant room overlooking the garden at the back of the house.

  “Your clothes have been unpacked, Mademoiselle la Comtesse,” she said, “but before I ring for the maid I would like to tell you – ”

  “I am very fatigued,” Zena interrupted, “and as I have no wish to sit through a long drawn out dinner please have something brought to me on a tray.”

  The Countess was astounded.

  “Your Royal – I mean Mademoiselle la Comtesse, must be ill!”

  “Only tired,” Zena replied, “and please be so obliging as to give the orders for what I require – ”

  She thought as she spoke that, if Paris had given Kendric a new authority, it had made her feel as if she was no longer a child, but grown up.

  ‘I am old enough to be loved,’ she told herself, ‘and that makes me a woman, and as a woman I will no longer be imposed upon by people who should obey my orders rather than I should obey theirs.’

  As a matter of fact she was definitely too tired for any arguments or to do anything but rest.

  But there was one thing she knew she had to do first – for she would be unable to sleep otherwise – and that was to write again to the Comte.

  She waited until she was in bed, then writing with a pencil instead of pen and ink she covered three pages of writing paper with the expression of her love.

  She wrote,

  “You have given me something so priceless, so perfect, that it will shine like a light to guide me all through my life.

  Although I can never see you again and it breaks my heart to write this, I know, because I have loved you, I will become a far better person.

  Our love will be always out of reach, yet it will be there, shining in the Heavens above me, and I will follow it, as the Wise Men followed the Star of Bethlehem.

  I know too that, although you may not be aware of it, I shall sometimes be near you in my dreams and my love will reach out to protect you as it did when you were fighting the Marquis.

  There is nothing more I can say, nothing more I can tell you, except that now and for all Eternity my heart and soul are yours.

  Zena.”

  She did not read the letter through, but put it straight into an envelope.

  She knew that if she addressed it to, Le Comte Jean de Graumont, c/o Le Duc de Soissons, Les Champs Elyées, Paris, the letter would find him.

  She rang the bell and, when the maid answered it, she asked her if she would take the letter at once to the Post Office.

  The maid who was German like the Professor looked at Zena a little doubtfully, and Zena said,

  “As it is very important, if you will go at once, I will of course pay you for your services. Please give me my handbag.”

  She thought as she spoke that the woman’s eyes glinted greedily and, when she drew a ten franc note from her bag and handed it with the letter and another note of a smaller denomination with which to buy the stamp, the servant curtsied.

  “I will take it at once, Mein Fäulein,” she said in her guttural voice. Then she added as if perceptively she guessed what Zena wanted to hear,

  “And no one will know I have left the house.”

  “Thank you,” Zena said.

  Then as if at last she was free to rest, she put her head down on the pillow and closed her eyes.

  Just for a moment she wanted to cry for her lost love and for the Comte, wondering despairingly why she had left him.

  Then instead she imagined his arms were around her, and he was holding her close, his lips seeking hers.

  She felt her love rising within her and the happiness he had given her seemed to seep over her like sunshine.

  Because it was so wonderful, so perfect, and she loved him so much, she fell asleep.

  Chapter Six

  Zena walked slowly down the stairs to the library.

  They had now been four days at Ettengen and she felt as if four centuries had passed and that every day her yearning for the Comte grew more intense, more agonising.

  She thought that perhaps at first she had been almost numbed by the shock of the duel, of leaving Paris in such a hurry and being plunged into the intolerable boredom of the companionship of the Baron and the Countess.

  Every night, as she cried herself to sleep, she thought she had lost the sunshine from her life and she would never again know anything but darkness and misery.

  Last night she had felt it was too heart-rending to bear any longer and, after they had all retired to bed, she had gone to Kendric’s room to tell him she must run away.

  “It is no use, Kendric,” she moaned, “I c
annot face life without the Comte, in fact I would rather be dead!”

  “Things will get better as time goes by,” Kendric said soothingly.

  He was lying back against the pillows in his bed reading a book and now as he looked at his sister sitting on the mattress facing him he realised how deeply she was suffering.

  He thought she was already beginning to look like Melanie although otherwise there was little resemblance in their appearance.

  “I am sorry, Zena,” he said impulsively, “I should never have taken you to Paris.”

  “I shall never regret it,” Zena replied fiercely. “I would not have missed meeting the Comte for – anything in the world, but why should I – suffer like this? Why should I marry a man I will hate?”

  She paused, then she stated slowly and distinctly,

  “I am going back to Paris to find the Comte and as far as Wiedenstein is concerned, I am dead!”

  Kendric put out his hand to take hers.

  “Now listen to me, dearest. You will not be dead, but the Comte will.”

  Zena stiffened.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I mean that. Papa will find out where you are and the Comte will either be put in prison on some trumped up charge or, if they feel he is too important for that, he will have a ‘regrettable accident’.”

  “I don’t believe it!” Zena cried. “You are just trying to frighten me into not going back to Paris!”

  Kendric’s fingers tightened on hers.

  “You know I want you to be happy,” he said. “Do you remember our Cousin Gertrude?”

  Zena thought for a moment.

  “Do you mean the one who is now the Queen of Albania?”

  Kendric nodded.

  “Yes. Like you, when she was told she had to marry a rather coarse, uncivilised King and live in Albania, she rebelled.”

  “What happened?” Zena asked in a low voice.

  “Gertrude had fallen in love with one of the Diplomats at her father’s Court. He was a Frenchman and, as they loved each other passionately, they felt the world was well lost for love.”

  “That is what I – feel,” Zena said beneath her breath.

  “They arranged to run away together and Gertrude made plans to creep out of the Palace and join him. They thought they would leave the country before anybody was aware of what was happening.”

  “Why were they – unable to – do so?” Zena asked.

  Her voice was hardly above a whisper and her eyes were apprehensive.

  “The day before they were due to leave, when they were quite certain that nobody had the slightest idea of their plans, the Diplomat went out riding as he did every morning, was thrown from his horse and broke his neck!”

  There was a long silence.

  Then Zena said,

  “Was it not really an accident?”

  “He was an expert rider,” Kendric replied, “and it is very unusual for any man to die if he is bucked off his horse or even thrown over its head.”

  There was another long silence.

  Then Zena asked him,

  “And you think – something like that might – happen to the Comte?”

  “I am certain of it,” Kendric replied. “That way there would be no scandal, and nobody would know except Papa and Mama. You would be brought back and the Comte would be dead.”

  Zena put her hands over her face and her brother could see that she was crying.

  He put his arms around her and said,

  “This is the penalty we both pay for being who we are, and you surely do not suppose that when the time comes I will be allowed to choose my own bride? I will have to marry some boring Princess who will be chosen for me and I shall have to make the best of living with her, whatever she is like.”

  “At least you will be – able to get – away sometimes,” Zena replied in a muffled voice.

  “I hope so.”

  He was thinking of how his father had said he would like to go to Paris, but found it impossible.

  Zena took her hands from her face and wiped her eyes.

  “I will try to be – brave,” she said, “but it will be – worse when – you are not here.”

  “It will be very much worse for me as well!” Kendric said grimly.

  They talked for a long time, but could find no way out of a future that was looming nearer every day that passed. For the moment the only mitigating factor was that they could suffer together.

  When Zena went back to bed, she had cried not only because she had lost the Comte but also because she must lose her twin.

  *

  As if in tune with her feelings the day had started misty and dull, but the sun had come out while they were working with the Professor in the room he called the study. It made the lessons, which were excruciatingly dull, seem worse than they usually were.

  The Professor was a perfectionist. He corrected every mispronunciation, every intonation, every grammatical mistake, until Zena felt she must scream.

  What made the lessons even more intolerable was the fact that, because they had escaped their watchdogs once, the Countess and the Baron sat in the study all the time they were being taught.

  They also accompanied them, as Kendric said angrily, every time they moved, in case they should run away again.

  “It’s our own fault,” Zena told him listlessly and knew the only way she could escape now was in her thoughts.

  When luncheon was over, a heavy German meal that was very unlike the French cuisine they had at the Palace, the Professor retired for a rest.

  He was an old man and everyone knew that for two hours after luncheon he would sleep.

  As they started their lessons quite early in the morning, this seemed such an excellent idea to the Baron and the Countess that they too insisted on a siesta and told Zena and Kendric they should do the same.

  Because they were so frightened that their charges would vanish for a second time, each day they extracted from them a promise on their word of honour that neither of them would leave the house or the garden.

  “I am so relieved to get rid of the old crows I would promise to do anything!” Kendric said when their attendants had left them alone.

  “I suppose they are only doing their duty,” Zena replied, “ and we certainly frightened them.”

  Kendric picked up the newspapers.

  “It is too hot to stay in the house,” he said. “ I am going to read in the garden under the trees. Come and join me.”

  “I will in a minute,” Zena replied. “But I must first find something to read.”

  “I don’t think you will find much in the Professor’s library, except history books,” Kendric scoffed.

  Zena felt that even that would be better than having nothing to do but think, which inevitably led to her crying for the Comte.

  Kendric picked up the newspapers and went off into the garden, while Zena went to the Professor’s study where the walls were lined with books.

  She found some on one shelf which were in French and she was taking them out one by one to see if there was anything she wanted to read, when the door opened behind her and she thought Kendric had come back.

  “You were right!” she called out. “Everything here is so unutterably dull.”

  “Perhaps then you would prefer to talk to me,” a man’s voice said.

  Zena started so violently that she almost dropped the book she was holding in her hands.

  Then, as she turned round, she saw in amazement that it was the Comte who was standing just inside the door.

  He looked so handsome, so tall and elegant, that for a moment she thought she must be dreaming and she was seeing a vision of him as he had looked when he took her to luncheon in the Bois.

  He shut the door behind him and came forward into the room.

  It was impossible for Zena to move and she was holding her breath.

  Then, as she longed to run to him, to touch him and make sure he was really there, she said in a voic
e that trembled,

  “W-what has – happened? Why are you – here?”

  “I am here,” the Comte replied with a smile, “ because they informed me at the Gendarmerie that the only beautiful young woman in Ettengen with red-gold hair and blue eyes was the Comtesse de Castelnaud.”

  “You were – looking for – me?” Zena asked in a voice that did not sound like her own.

  The Comte came nearer and when he reached her side he sighed,

  “You have driven me nearly mad by disappearing in that cruel fashion and leaving me no address and no idea how I could find you.”

  “I told – you that I could never – see you again.”

  “I was in despair, utter and complete despair!” the Comte continued, “in fact I have never been so unhappy in my whole life.”

  “But – you are – here.”

  “I am here,” he repeated, “thanks to the second letter you wrote to me.”

  “I did not put any address on it,” Zena said quickly.

  “The Post Office did that for you,” the Comte replied. “When I saw the letter was stamped ‘Ettengen’, I took the first train from Paris that would carry me to Wiedenstein.”

  Zena put down the book she was carrying as if it was too heavy to hold.

  “So that is – how you – found me.”

  She could not help the lilt in her voice or the fact that her eyes were shining radiantly in her pale face.

  “That is how I found you!” the Comte confirmed.

  As he spoke, he put his arms around her and drew her against him.

  Zena felt her heart turn over in her breast and she lifted her face up to his.

  He did not kiss her, he only looked down at her for a long moment before he said,

  “I have found you and now I want to know how soon you will marry me, for I have discovered, my darling, that I cannot live without you.”

  He pulled her almost roughly towards him, then his lips were on hers.

  Now he kissed her in a very different way than he had done before. His lips were passionate and demanding, and there was a fire in them that told Zena that, because he had suffered, he could no longer control his feelings.

  It flashed through her mind that if the first kiss she had received from him had been like this, she might have been frightened.