The Passion and the Flower Read online

  Lokita opened a door.

  “Lord Marston is here, Andy,” she said. “May I bring him in?”

  “Show him in, Lokita, and I wish to see him alone,” Miss Anderson replied.

  Her voice, Lord Marston noticed, still had the undeniable ring of authority.

  Lokita smiled at him and he walked into the bedroom.

  “I am sorry to hear you are ill, Miss Anderson,” he began.

  There was a hard chair by the bed and he sat down on it.

  “I sent Serge to find you, Lord Marston,” Miss Anderson replied, “because I need your help.”

  “You know I will do anything that is within my power,” Lord Marston replied.

  “I have not long to live,” Miss Anderson said bluntly.

  Lord Marston would have expostulated, but she brushed his words aside saying,

  “I made the doctors tell me the truth, something they are invariably reluctant to do, but I am a dying woman and now I am only concerned about Lokita.”

  “Of course,” Lord Marston murmured.

  “There is no one else I can trust except you,” Miss Anderson went on. “Therefore, Lord Marston, I am asking if you will marry her!”

  Lord Marston stiffened in sheer astonishment and Miss Anderson continued,

  “For the moment her background must remain a secret and I cannot reveal who she is. All I can tell you on my most sacred word of honour is that by breeding she is your equal.”

  She paused before she added,

  “One day you will be able to know the truth of who she is and where she comes from, but for the moment I ask you to trust me and make her your wife.”

  Her voice died away, but her eyes were on Lord Marston’s face.

  After a moment he said,

  “I will be honest. Miss Anderson, and say that I never imagined for one moment that I should receive such a strange suggestion nor had I thought of Lokita, beautiful though she is, as belonging to me.”

  He drew in his breath before he carried on,

  “I believe she is in love with Prince Ivan Volkonski and he is wildly and passionately in love with her.”

  “I am aware of that,” Miss Anderson said sharply, “but you know as well as I do, Lord Marston, that he cannot marry her.”

  Lord Marston did not speak and Miss Anderson resumed,

  “I have lived in Russia. As the Prince’s mother was a Romanov, he could only marry with permission from the Czar.”

  There was a touch of irony in her voice as she added,

  “The Czar, as we both know, would not give his permission for the Prince to marry a young woman who has not only appeared on the stage but there is nothing to prove her parentage.”

  “And you think that this would not count with me?” Lord Marston asked.

  “You are English and Lokita’s father was English. She is also beautiful not only in her face but in her character. I confidently believe that if you marry her you will come to love her very deeply.”

  “And you think she might come to love me?” Lord Marston asked.

  Miss Anderson closed her eyes.

  As she lay back against her pillows, Lord Marston realised for the first time how frail she looked and how different from when he had last seen her in Paris.

  Then she had seemed to merit being named ‘the dragon’, for there had been a force and a fire about her that had been almost intimidating.

  Now she was nothing but a sick woman, old, older than he had thought her to be and her face was lined not only with age but with suffering.

  Because of what Lokita had told him Lord Marston said quickly,

  “Will you give me time to think over what you have proposed? I will send you a message this afternoon or this evening.”

  Almost as if she had not heard him, Miss Anderson said as she opened her eyes,

  “I want you to marry Lokita at once by Special Licence. She must be safe – she must be!”

  “I understand,” Lord Marston said soothingly, “and I promise you that I will give it my most serious consideration.”

  He rose to his feet as he spoke.

  Only as he reached the door did Miss Anderson speak again and as if with an effort.

  “There is – no one I can trust except you and Lokita must be – safe!”

  *

  The Prince was waiting for Lord Marston when he returned.

  He was standing by the window staring with unseeing eyes into the garden and at a glance, as he came in through the door, Lord Marston could see that his meeting with the detectives had not been encouraging.

  They would take his money, that was inevitable, but he was quite sure that to safeguard their own reputations they would have informed the Prince that he set them a task that they were unlikely to be successful in.

  Lord Marston walked across the room to stand in front of the mantelpiece.

  “I have something to tell you, Ivan.”

  “What is it?” the Prince asked without turning.

  “I have just seen Lokita!”

  The Prince swung round.

  His expression was that of a man who suddenly steps from a dark dungeon into the light.

  “You have – seen – Lokita?"

  There was a pause between each word as if he could hardly say them.

  “Miss Anderson sent for me. She is very ill.”

  The Prince waited.

  “She asked me if, to keep Lokita safe, I would marry her.”

  “Marry – her?” the Prince ejaculated and then fiercely, his voice ringing out, he cried,

  “If you touch Lokita – if you lay a finger on her – I will kill you!”

  “I have not said that I agreed to do so,” Lord Marston replied.

  “I will keep Lokita safe. I will look after her and worship her for the rest of her life.”

  “But you cannot offer her marriage.”

  The Prince was silent.

  “Miss Anderson knew that,” Lord Marston went on. “She told me that she was well aware that you could not marry anybody without the permission of the Czar, but she admitted that Lokita is in love with you.”

  The Prince walked across the room to stand beside Lord Marston.

  “I must see Lokita. I must talk to her.”

  “Are you prepared to ask her if she will become your mistress?” Lord Marston questioned.

  The Prince put his hand up to his forehead.

  “Mistress or wife, I will love her as no woman has ever been loved before.”

  “That is not the point, as you well know,” Lord Marston said, “and quite frankly, Ivan, I think she is so pure and innocent that she would refuse the only position you can offer her.”

  The Prince walked across the room and back again and then he said in a resolute tone,

  “In which case Lokita must not know what we are doing.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Lord Marston asked.

  “I am thinking it out,” the Prince said. “You will agree to marry Lokita. You will bring her here and she will marry me – ”

  “She cannot do that,” Lord Marston interrupted.

  “If we tell Lokita, it will be a Civic Marriage, such as is possible in England, and that later I will get the permission of the Czar for a Church Service, she will believe me,”

  “A Civic Marriage?” Lord Marston repeated.

  “It will be like the type of Ceremony that takes place in France in front of the Mayor,” the Prince said impatiently. “A few words and the bridal couple are married. Anybody could play that part.”

  “You intend to deceive Lokita by a bogus Ceremony?”

  “I intend to ensure that she is safe for life and that she will be loved and protected.”

  Lord Marston did not speak and the Prince went on,

  “I will settle a fortune on her, any sum you like. That will be part of the ‘Marriage Contract’.”

  He looked at Lord Marston and then said angrily,

  “Good God, Hugo, you must see that it’s th
e only possible way to solve this problem! I love Lokita, she loves me, but for the moment we cannot be married. Perhaps later, who knows, I may be able to persuade the Czar.”

  “Miss Anderson assured me that her breeding is the equal of my own,” Lord Marston said, “but even that may not be enough for you.”

  “Do you think it matters to me who her parents or her ancestors were?” the Prince asked angrily. “She may come from the gutter or from the steps of the Throne. She is Lokita! She is mine! That is the only thing that you and I have to consider.”

  Lord Marston sighed.

  “I admit, much as I admire Lokita, much as I feel for her in the situation she is at the moment, I have no wish to marry any woman who is in love with somebody else.”

  “Lokita loves me.”

  The Prince’s voice softened as he went on,

  “And you know I love her. Her happiness and her future lie in your hands.”

  “It is too big a responsibility,” Lord Marston protested. “Supposing she ever learnt the truth that she was not in fact married to you? She would denounce you for deceiving her.”

  “What is the alternative?” the Prince asked practically. “If Miss Anderson dies, are you suggesting that Lokita goes back on the stage without any form of protection?”

  Lord Marston did not answer and he went on,

  “We know that she has no money except what they obtained from the sale of the ikon. Do as I suggest, Hugo. It is the only possible way.”

  There was silence while the seconds seemed to tick by and then Lord Marston said reluctantly,

  “I suppose you are right and that there is no alternative.”

  The Prince gave what was a sound of triumph.

  “Write a note immediately and say that you will collect Lokita this evening. That will give us time to rehearse someone in a form of Service and draw up the necessary documents with regard to the money I shall settle on her.”

  He spoke quite quietly and then suddenly he flung his arms above his head and shouted triumphantly,

  “We have found her! We have found her, Hugo, and now I have come alive again!”

  *

  Driving in Lord Marston’s closed carriage Lokita looked at him with worried eyes.

  “Andy said that I was to come with you – wherever you wish to take me,” she stammered, “but she did not tell me – where you were going.”

  “What else did she tell you?” Lord Marston enquired.

  “After your note arrived at luncheon time it seemed to make her happy – in fact she looked happier than she has ever been since we left Paris.”

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  “She told me that you would collect me at five o’clock and that I was to do exactly what you told me – but she would not tell me what it was.”

  Lokita’s voice sounded even more apprehensive as she added,

  “I was – frightened because I heard her telling Marie to pack some of my – clothes. Am I to stay with you for the – night?”

  “I think you will stay longer than that,” Lord Marston said. He saw the question in Lokita’s expression and added, “Someone is waiting for you at my house, someone who loves you very much!”

  “The – Prince!”

  Lokita seemed hardly able to breathe the word,

  “Yes, the Prince,” Lord Marston agreed. “Tell me, Lokita, do you really love him?”

  He knew the answer by the light shining in her face before she answered,

  “I love him with my whole heart. I have been utterly miserable because I thought that I should never see him again.”

  There was a throb in her voice that was very moving, and Lord Marston put his hand on Lokita’s as he said,

  “Do you love him enough, Lokita, to deceive Miss Anderson whom you also love?”

  “What do you – mean?”

  “When I came to see Miss Anderson this morning,” Lord Marston answered, “she asked me if I would marry you.”

  He felt Lokita stiffen in surprise and knew that she had no idea of what had been suggested.

  “You are very beautiful, Lokita,” Lord Marston went on, “but we both know that you and I are not in love with each other and that you love the Prince.”

  “I-I think he – loves me,” she murmured.

  “He loves you with his heart and soul. He has been like a man suffering from a death blow ever since you left Paris and he thought that he would never find you again.”

  “But now – he will – marry me.”

  “Now he will marry you, but we have to keep it a secret,” Lord Marston warned. “You will understand that he is a very important person and he should not marry without having first told his family and the Czar.”

  “I understand – that,” Lokita murmured.

  “But because Miss Anderson is so ill and because we do not wish to upset her, it would be best for her to think that I have agreed to her proposition and that you and I are to be married this evening.”

  He felt Lokita’s fingers tremble in his and knew without asking what she wanted to know.

  “Actually,” he said quietly, “you will marry the Prince.”

  “M-marry – him?”

  The words sounded like a song of joy.

  “It will only be a Civic Marriage,” Lord Marston explained, “dull and uninspiring. But later when the Prince has had time to communicate with the Czar he hopes that it will be possible for you to have the Blessing of the Church.”

  “That is what I would want,” Lokita said simply.

  “Of course,” Lord Marston agreed, “but for the moment, because of the speed that we have to act in, there is no time.”

  “Do you think that – Andy is dying?” Lokita asked hesitatingly.

  “She told me that she was,” Lord Marston replied, “and that is why I am sure that you are right and we should not upset her.”

  “No, of course not,” Lokita agreed.

  The horses drew up outside Lord Marston’s house and he alighted and helped Lokita onto the red carpet that was laid down over the pavement.

  They walked across the marble hall and Lord Marston opened a door to let her enter alone.

  The Prince was standing in the middle of the room and Lokita thought as she looked at him that he was more handsome and more compellingly attractive than she even remembered.

  Their eyes met and for a moment they were neither of them able to move.

  Then very simply the Prince held out his arms and Lokita ran towards him.

  He caught her against him holding her so tightly that she could feel his heart beating wildly and tumultuously against her breast.

  Then he said in a voice that seemed strangled with emotion,

  “My darling! My precious! My little Drouska! I feared I would never find you again!”

  “It was – agony leaving – you,” Lokita whispered.

  “But you are here in my arms and oh, God, how much I love you!”

  The Prince looked down at her upturned face and then gently, as if he held himself rigidly under control, he bent his head and his lips found hers.

  He kissed her at first with a tenderness that made the tears come to her eyes.

  Then, as her lips were soft and yielding beneath his, he held her closer still.

  Now his kiss became more insistent, more demanding.

  It was as if he asked her to give him her heart and drew her soul from her body to make it his.

  She felt as if everything beautiful that she had felt in her dancing, everything spiritual that had been close to her when she heard music, was intensified.

  It grew in them both until it was like the blazing heat of the sun and they stood in the middle of it.

  It was so compelling, so glorious, so brilliant that she felt as if the light that had blazed out between them blinded her eyes and seeped through her body until they were both swept away by it.

  ‘This is love,’ Lokita thought as her whole being responded to his need of her and she fel
t that every nerve was pulsating with a wonder and joy that was so intense it was almost painful.

  “I love you! I love you!”

  She wanted to cry the words aloud, she wanted to move, she wanted to dance at the glory and rapture of them.

  Still the Prince held her prisoner, captive against him, kissing her with the wild intensity of a man who has come back to life from the dead.

  When he raised his head, she saw the wonder in his eyes and knew that he felt as she did.

  “Is it true that you are here and that you are close to me?” he asked and his voice was unsteady, “that now I can – touch you?”

  “It is – true,” she answered.

  “Tell me what you feel.”

  “I love you! I did not know that love could be so wonderful – so perfect – like music and light.”

  “The light you have brought me, my Drouska,” the Prince sighed.

  Then he was kissing her again. Kissing her cheeks, her mouth and the little pulse that was beating in her neck because she was so excited. And again her lips –

  A long time later he drew her to a sofa and they sat down together. His arms were still around her as if he was afraid that she might escape him again.

  “Hugo has told you what we have planned?” he asked.

  “That we are – to be – married?” Lokita asked and her voice trembled with excitement, “but that it is to be a secret.”

  “Yes, a secret. The only thing that matters is that you should be mine, mine and part of my heart and my soul as you were always meant to be.”

  “You said that when we first talked together.”

  “And I meant it,” the Prince said. “You made it difficult, very difficult to believe that I had not lost you, my darling, when you ran away before my party, but Fate has brought us together again and that is all that matters.”

  “Was it – a very lovely party?” Lokita asked wistfully.

  “It was a hollow mockery without you.”

  “I-I am – sorry.”

  “You shall have a thousand parties. Any party you wish, but for the moment I only want you alone.”

  “That is – what I want too,” Lokita murmured.

  He pulled her closer to him, his hands caressing her and his lips moving against the softness of her skin.

  Then he said with an effort,

  “I must tell you what we have planned. We will be married in an hour’s time and I thought, star of my life, that my dream has come true and we would stay here tonight.”