Women have Hearts Page 12

For a moment Kelda thought it would be absolutely impossible for her to speak.

  Then in a low voice that she meant to be calm and unhurried but which, in fact, sounded more frightened, she replied,

  “You could not be so – foolish as to believe that loving – Rémy Mendès as – Yvette does and he her that they would tamely submit to your plans for her to – m-marry someone else?”

  “Who planned this – and how?” Lord Orsett demanded angrily.

  “Does it matter?” Kelda asked. “They are to be married without your consent, but I don’t think that there is much you can do about it, my Lord.”

  “I can have the ship stopped at St. Louis,” Lord Orsett thundered furiously, “or at any rate, when they reach Marseilles, I will make sure that this man is arrested for abducting a minor.”

  He spoke so angrily that his voice seemed to echo from wall to wall.

  “And how will that help Yvette, if by that time she is – having a child?” Kelda asked.

  She saw by his expression that this had not occurred to Lord Orsett.

  Then with a muttered exclamation, that might have been an oath, he turned around and walked away towards one of the windows.

  He stood for a moment looking out to sea. Because in a way she could understand what he was feeling now that his plans had gone awry, Kelda said hesitatingly.

  “I am – sorry if you are – angry, but then love – real love – cannot be suppressed or forgotten overnight – as you seem to think it can.”

  Lord Orsett did not move or speak and after a moment Kelda went on,

  “Yvette will be happy – and because she is such a sweet and attractive person – surely you would want her happiness?”

  Still there was no response from Lord Orsett until in a voice that was harsh with anger he thundered,

  “Go upstairs now and change! I shall expect you to be ready to accompany me in twenty minutes!”

  Kelda wanted to ask him why and where they were going, but she was too frightened.

  Instead she opened the door, hurried into the hall and up the stairs.

  Only as she reached the top step did she hear Lord Orsett calling for Monsieur Bonnier.

  ‘Perhaps he is making arrangements to send me home,’ she thought and felt her spirits sinking into a depression that was almost like falling into a deep dark hole.

  ‘If I have to go, I shall be all alone again.’ she thought, ‘and, although Rémy and Yvette have been so kind, there is nowhere I belong – nowhere where I would feel as I have felt here – happy.’

  She reached the top of the staircase and looked back to see Monsieur Bonnier hurrying in answer to Lord Orsett’s call.

  ‘What is to happen to me?’ Kelda asked forlornly.

  She knew despairingly that once again, as when her father and mother had both died, her world had come to an end and there was nothing left but insecurity, misery and fear.

  Chapter Six

  Kelda went slowly down the stairs feeling as if every footstep was a tremendous effort.

  The maid had had her bath ready, which she always had after riding and, as she lay in its hot scented water, she recalled how difficult it had been to wash adequately at the Seminary.

  There were decent baths for the pupils but, when she wanted one, she was forced to use an ancient bathroom that had not been painted for years and which led off the kitchen.

  All the water had to be heated on the stove and carried up in cans that were almost too heavy for her to lift.

  The only alternative was to wash in cold water and to dry herself on small inadequate and often ragged towels that Mrs. Gladwin thought were good enough for her.

  To be able to wash in comfort, to be waited on, to have her gowns pressed every time she wore them, was a joy that she appreciated more and more every day that she stayed in Lord Orsett’s house.

  Now, she told herself this would come to an end, together with all the other pleasures she had enjoyed and she would leave Senegal with only the memory of its beauty to cherish for the rest of her life.

  Through the front door she could see the flaming red of a hibiscus blossom and beyond, clambering in exotic profusion by the gates, a riot of purple bougainvillaea.

  She had felt ever since she came to Dakar that the colours of the flowers warmed her as the sun did and, when she thought of the January cold and damp in England, she shivered.

  With her eyes wide and frightened she walked into the salon where she expected Lord Orsett to be waiting for her.

  He was standing at the far end of the room and she felt as she walked towards him that she might be covering miles instead of just a few feet to reach him.

  She could hardly bear to look at him, knowing that there would be a scowl between his eyes and he would still be as angry as he had been when she had left him.

  She drew nearer and still nearer, until when she stood still he said in a harsh voice, which did not surprise her,

  “I have decided to offer you a choice.”

  At his words Kelda glanced at him quickly and saw, as she had expected, the grimness of his face and looked away again.

  “Cho – ice?” she questioned, finding it difficult to speak.

  “You have connived with my niece to circumvent the plans that I had made with a great deal of forethought,” he said, “and I can now take you either to The Palace or to the Palais de Justice.”

  Kelda started and there was silence before she asked in a voice that trembled,

  “You – would have me – put in p-prison?”

  “You might consider it that,” Lord Orsett replied, “but, as it happens, I am suggesting that you will either take my niece’s place and marry the Governor-General or marry me!”

  Kelda gave a frightened gasp, then without thinking what she was saying, she exclaimed,

  “You must be mad!”

  “Merely practical,” Lord Orsett replied. “I brought Yvette out here for a special purpose and, since you have both seen fit to flout my authority and take matters into your own hands, you are left to make reparation for her appalling behaviour.”

  “It is – just impossible that you can – really mean that I should – marry the Governor-General – or you.”

  “That is exactly what I do mean,” Lord Orsett said. “As I have already explained, it is very important for the future of Dakar that there should be more European women here in a predominantly male society and, as you qualify for the position, the choice is yours!”

  “Do you really – think I would – accept such a – suggestion or agree to marry in such – circumstances?”

  “I am afraid that you have no alternative. But, if you need any encouragement to do what I wish, then you might feel more inclined to acquiesce without unnecessary fuss if I concede on your agreeing not to prosecute this young man whom you have decided is an eminently suitable husband for my niece.”

  Kelda drew in her breath.

  She realised with that he was making it quite impossible for her to refuse his suggestion of marriage.

  At the same time every nerve in her body and every instinct within her told her that this was as outrageous and diabolical for her as it had been for Yvette.

  How could she contemplate being married to a man like the Governor-General who was not only old but, until now, had thought of her only as the companion to the woman he really wished to take as his wife?

  As for Lord Orsett –

  Her thoughts stopped suddenly.

  It occurred to her almost insidiously, as if someone was now speaking in her ear, that here was her opportunity to remain in Dakar, to stay with the sunshine and the flowers and to be no longer afraid of an unknown future either in France or in England.

  She would be safe, at least safe from the stigma of being a ‘charity child’, which she had carried for so long that she felt it was branded upon her brow.

  The picture of being secure seemed to flash before her eyes.

  She felt as if instinctively she held out her a
rms to it, but she knew that such security involved accepting Lord Orsett himself, so angry with her because she had helped Yvette to escape and more frightening and overwhelming than she had imagined any man could ever be.

  His voice broke in on her thoughts.

  “Well? Have you made up your mind?” he asked. “I imagine that you would find your position as wife of the Governor-General influential and important enough to compensate for any other shortcomings he may have.”

  She knew that Lord Orsett was sneering at her with that cynical note in his voice that she found more frightening than when he raged in anger.

  She clasped her hands together and found that they were both cold and trembling.

  “Do I – really have to – make a – choice?” she asked in a voice hardly above a whisper.

  “Alternatively you can leave and return to England and then I will deal in a way he richly deserves with young Mendès!”

  From the way he spoke, Kelda knew that it was just no use appealing to Lord Orsett for mercy or understanding.

  She had thought when she first saw him that he was a conqueror, a man who always got his own way and a man who would win over any opposition by sheer force of character.

  If he said that he would punish Rémy, he would certainly do so and she knew it would be unthinkable for her to destroy both his and Yvette’s happiness.

  Moreover, although perhaps it was a selfish idea, she knew that if they were parted and if Lord Orsett should be instrumental in sending Rémy to prison, then there would be no place for her in Paris.

  In which case, she must go back to the Seminary and endure the life of servitude she had lived before she came to Senegal.

  As if he was impatient for a decision, Lord Orsett then drew a watch from his waistcoat pocket and looked at it. Then, as he replaced it, Kelda said in a voice that was hardly audible,

  “I-I will – m-marry you.”

  “You are sure that is what you want?” Lord Orsett enquired.

  Kelda drew in her breath.

  “There is – first something I must tell you – then I think you will no – longer wish to m-marry me – and the Governor-General would certainly not accept me as his w-wife.”

  She thought that Lord Orsett looked puzzled.

  She walked away from where she had been standing facing him to one of the windows to stare out with unseeing eyes on the glittering beauty of the sea and the vivid colours of the flowers below the terrace.

  Because she felt it was almost unbearably humiliating to tell Lord Orsett what she knew he must hear, she held on to the windowsill, pressing her fingers against the wood.

  She stood there for what seemed a long time before Lord Orsett’s voice behind her came,

  “I am waiting.”

  “I am not – what I – appear to be,” Kelda began, forcing her voice from her lips with an effort. “I – came here ostensibly as Yvette’s f-friend and companion, but I was – really sent in a very – different capacity.”

  She felt, although he did not say anything, that Lord Orsett was surprised at what she had said and she thought, although she was not certain, that he came a little nearer to her.

  “When – my father and mother were – killed in an earthquake in Turkey,” Kelda went on,”1 was sent first to an – orphanage. I was a – ‘charity child’.”

  She could not help a little sob escaping from her lips as she said the words that had been flung at her derisively for so long and which still hurt when she had to say them herself.

  “I was there for three years,” she continued. “Then at fifteen I was sent as a – servant to Mrs. Gladwin’s Seminary for Young Ladies.”

  “A servant?” Lord Orsett questioned as if he thought that he could not have heard the word correctly.

  “A maid of all work, a maid who did everything nobody else was willing to do,” Kelda answered. “I scrubbed the floors – I washed the dishes – and I was at the beck and call of the other servants.”

  She thought that Lord Orsett was too astonished to speak and because she knew that she had to finish the story, she continued swiftly,

  “Two years ago I was promoted to waiting on the Mistresses – and to helping the pupils in the school with their clothes and their mending.”

  Because for some reason that she could not explain, she wanted to be completely honest, she added,

  “I deliberately sought to ingratiate myself with Yvette de Villon as I wished to – improve my French. She became fond of me – and offered me her friendship.”

  She turned to face Lord Orsett and stood silhouetted in the sunshine coming through the window.

  “When you – sent for Yvette to come here, nobody else would come out to Africa with her. The Mistresses refused, so I was told to accompany her, as her lady’s maid on the voyage – and to return if possible – by the next ship.”

  Although she had turned round, she hardly dared to look at Lord Orsett’s face.

  She stole a quick glance at him and thought that he was not scowling as deeply as he had before.

  “Whose idea was it,” he asked, “that you should pose as Yvette’s friend and wear her clothes?”

  “I was dressed in the – drab grey garments that were identical with what I had – worn in the orphanage,” Kelda explained, “and it was Rémy Mendès who thought I could – help them to convince you that he and Yvette should be married – if I was properly dressed.”

  “So you expected heavy opposition from me and intended to deceive me even before you reached Africa?”

  “Yvette thought you would not – agree to her marriage because she was – so young. She never dreamt in her wildest imaginings that you had planned to marry her off to an – old man whom she had never even – seen.”

  “Most women would consider it an advantageous marriage from a social point of view,” Lord Orsett commented dryly.

  “B-but Yvette was – in love.”

  “While for you that question does not arise.”

  “Do you really think any Frenchman,” Kelda asked, “and they are all, I would believe, exceedingly snobbish from the highest to the lowest, would wish to take a – ‘charity child’ as his wife?”

  “We are not, as it happens, discussing how the French feel,” Lord Orsett said. “You have already said that you would prefer to marry me.”

  “How can you – of all people – marry a – woman who has – spent the last eight years of her life in circumstances which must make anyone in the Social world spurn her as if she was a leper?” Kelda asked with an angry note in her voice.

  She felt that Lord Orsett was deliberately torturing her. She had told him the truth and now he was dangling in front of her eyes the position that she might have occupied if she had continued to deceive him and had not been so honest.

  As if he guessed what her thoughts were, he said,

  “You need not have told me this.”

  “But supposing you had – found it out afterwards? Supposing the newspapers discovered and revealed the life your wife had lived before she became – a lady?”

  Kelda sighed.

  “I have told you the truth – and now I suppose you will make arrangements for me to – leave as soon as there is a – ship sailing to Europe.”

  “So you wish to go back to England?”

  Kelda almost cried out that it was the last thing she wanted to do now or ever.

  Again because she thought it was right that she should be honest, she said,

  “Yvette and Rémy said they would – find me a position in Paris if I would – join them there.”

  “Doing what?”

  The question was sharp.

  “Rémy Mendès has three sisters. He was sure that one of them would want me to teach her children English.”

  “So you would prefer to be a Governess who has to accept the crumbs from a rich man’s table rather than stay here and marry me!”

  There was silence as Kelda stared at him.

  “Are you saying,�
�� she asked after a moment, “that – after what I have told you – after you know the truth about me – you would still – marry me?”

  “I dislike my plans being upset,” Lord Orsett said as if in explanation. “If you are ready, we will drive to the Palais de Justice where, as La Mairie is not yet completed, Weddings take place before the Mayor, as is compulsory under the Law in France.”

  Kelda stared at him incredulously.

  “You are – sure that what you are – doing – is right?”

  “It is what I wish to do,” Lord Orsett replied loftily.

  She was astonished into silence. There was nothing she could say and nothing, she felt, she could do.

  She thought it could not be true and she must be dreaming that she was to be married to a man who she felt regarded her not only in anger but with distaste.

  But what could she do about it?

  She could not possibly allow him to prosecute Rémy and, even if there was a chance of her running away, where could she go?

  He walked over the room and, as he opened the door, she passed him with her head down and too afraid to look at the expression she would see on his face.

  An open carriage with a white awning was waiting outside the front door.

  Kelda then stepped into it and only as they drove away from the house did she think that never in her wildest dreams had she thought that she would marry in Dakar or in such weird circumstances.

  When she had seen Yvette and Rémy together, so much in love and utterly content with each other, she had involuntarily said a little prayer in her heart that one day she might find love as well.

  She knew that it was something she craved because since her father and mother had died nobody had loved her and nobody except Yvette had even had the slightest affection for her.

  She knew instinctively that there was something within herself that could be expressed in no other way but love.

  She knew that the beauty she found in music, in the books she read and the flowers that were so abundant in Senegal were all part of an emotion that reached out from her waiting to give love and to receive it.

  Now without love she was to be married and she felt as if an icy hand took her heart and squeezed it so that it was hard to breathe.