Women have Hearts Read online

  ‘I am to be married!’ her mind told her.

  Yet it was impossible to realise that it was actually happening and was not something she imagined. Womanlike she glanced down to see if what she was wearing was appropriate for the occasion.

  When she was changing she had been so frightened by Lord Orsett’s anger that she could think of nothing but what he might do to punish her. So she had not chosen what gown she would wear, but had left it to her maid.

  Now she saw that it was one of Yvette’s favourites, a pretty pink with a sash in a deeper hue that was echoed by the roses that trimmed her small straw hat.

  It was in fact, if she could not wear white, the perfect choice for a bride on what should be the most perfect day of her life.

  But to Kelda pink was the colour of love and for her on this her Wedding Day there was no love, only fear and apprehension.

  They reached the Palais de Justice and Kelda saw Monsieur Bonnier waiting for them outside the impressive front door.

  It struck her that Lord Orsett must have sent him on ahead to make arrangements and she was surprised that he had been so sure that her choice of husband, even before he knew the shadow over her background, would be himself.

  He had spoken as if he was quite certain that she would choose the position of wife to the Governor-General. Yet there was Monsieur Bonnier waiting and, as they stepped out of the carriage, she heard him say to Lord Orsett,

  “Everything is arranged, my Lord. The Mayor is waiting to receive you.”

  They were escorted by an Official, who bowed very low to Lord Orsett, along a number of corridors to a part of the Palais de Justice that was not concerned with the Law Courts.

  The Official opened the door and announced,

  “Lord Orsett, Monsieur le Maire.”

  An elderly Frenchman, wearing the elaborate and picturesque uniform of his position, rose from behind a large desk with a genial smile on his face.

  *

  Driving back to the house, Kelda was acutely conscious that Lord Orsett had, since they had made their responses to the Mayor and been united as man and wife, not addressed one single word to her any more than he had spoken on their drive into the town.

  She reckoned that she should say something, but felt tongue-tied because she was shy.

  She was married! She was Lord Orsett’s wife! It was too incredible to contemplate let alone talk about.

  It could not be true that after eight very long years of misery and humiliation after being derided continuously and found fault with by Mrs. Gladwin, she was now in a position which would be envied by any of the girls in the school.

  In fact they would, Kelda thought, be only too willing to change places with her.

  She had heard them often talk of their own futures and always they had been concerned with marrying a man who was both aristocratic and rich.

  It had never seemed that love had entered into their calculations, although they simpered and giggled at the compliments they had been paid in the holidays from the young men who tried to steal a kiss.

  But where husbands were concerned it was a very different matter and they all appeared to have a very clear idea of what social position they wanted to occupy in the future.

  In many cases they accepted with surprising complacency the idea that their marriage would be arranged entirely between their parents and the parents of the intended bridegroom.

  Kelda had only listened with half an ear to what they were saying as her mind was very usually pre-occupied with what she was learning from the books she had borrowed.

  Now the memory of things that had been said came back to her and she was sure that she had made a marriage of which any mother of a pupil in the Seminary would have approved.

  ‘But I want – love,’ she told herself and then thought that she was being too demanding.

  She should be grateful, deeply grateful, that there was now no question of her having to return to London and Mrs. Gladwin or to Paris to accept what Lord Orsett had described as ‘the crumbs from a rich man’s table’.

  At the same time because the silent man sitting beside her was now her husband, she felt her heart pounding in her breast and her lips felt dry to the point where it was impossible to speak.

  As the carriage reached the iron gates and passed through them, Kelda thought that the flowers of the crimson hibiscus were even more vivid against the white of the building than they had been when she had left.

  ‘This is my home,’ she reflected, ‘something I have not had since I was a child.’

  “We will have luncheon immediately,” Lord Orsett said as the carriage drew to a stop by the front door. “I imagine, as you had no breakfast this morning, that you must be feeling quite hungry.”

  He spoke in such an ordinary conversational voice that it was easy for Kelda to reply,

  “Yes, I am – now I think about it – very hungry, my Lord.”

  As she spoke, she wondered if, now that they were married, she should still address him as ‘my Lord’ and knew that she would be far too shy and embarrassed to speak to him in any other way.

  Because she had no wish to keep him waiting, she took off her hat in the hall and gave it to one of the servants and, without bothering further about her appearance, she just patted her hair into place and stood waiting to see where Lord Orsett would wish to go.

  “A bottle of champagne,” she heard him say to the head servant, “and inform the chef we require luncheon at once.”

  He then walked towards the terrace and Kelda followed him.

  The sun was now shining so brilliantly on the dancing waves that it was almost blinding. There was the pervasive fragrance of the many flowers and the soft trade wind blew away the oppressive heat.

  She felt a sudden excitement seeping all over her, almost as if she had already drunk the champagne.

  She did not have to leave!

  She could stay here, she could go on gazing at the beauty all around her and so need no longer feel afraid of everything she said, because there was no more reason for secrecy and no more need to be careful.

  She stood looking at the scene as if she was seeing it all for the first time and then was aware that Lord Orsett had seated himself at a table under an awning and was watching her.

  She turned towards him impulsively.

  “It is so lovely.”

  She knew that it was something she had said a dozen times to him before when they had been riding and when they had looked at his native carvings, in fact, whenever they spoke of anything to do with Senegal.

  Now it was more poignant and the exclamation came from her very soul as the loveliness had become a part of her and she belonged to it.

  He did not reply as the servants had appeared with the champagne. They poured out two glasses of the golden wine and then Lord Orsett lifted his as if in a toast to Kelda.

  “To our future,” he said and his words surprised her.

  “I-I hope I may – make you h-happy,” she said hesitatingly after pausing to think what she should say.

  Even as she spoke, she thought that it was very unlikely.

  She had a feeling that he would never be happy. His cynicism and perhaps his hate were too deeply ingrained in him.

  Then she told herself that she would have to try.

  It was what her mother would expect her to do, and yet she felt helplessly inadequate for the task.

  What did she know about men? Certainly nothing about a man as self-sufficient as Lord Orsett. What preparation had she for the life that she was to lead now?

  Humbly she told herself that she was totally the wrong person for him to have married and she was convinced that the only reason he had done so was because he could not bear to be proved wrong.

  He could not allow his cherished plan to fall to bits completely and have to start all over again to find a woman who would come out to live in Dakar with him.

  She thought he would also feel humiliated in having to explain to the Governo
r-General that Yvette had not only run away rather than be married to him but that one of his own staff had actually connived in the operation.

  The situation was extremely uncomfortable for Lord Orsett and Kelda now found herself feeling quite sorry for him.

  “Luncheon is served,” one of the servants announced and she thought that Lord Orsett was about to say something, but instead he set down his glass and rose to his feet.

  They walked down the corridor towards the dining room together.

  Kelda remembered that her mother had always thought that it extremely bad manners for people to sit during their meals saying nothing and so she forced herself, because there were servants in the room, to speak of ordinary things.

  “You will not forget,” she began, “that you promised I might see the manuscript of your book?”

  They were talking in English and those waiting on them would not understand what was said. Equally they would know that they were conversing amicably.

  “I have not forgotten,” Lord Orsett replied.

  “How did you start your momentous task of writing a history?”

  “I started by reading about Africa,” he answered. “I read how the Phoenicians came here, then the Greeks, followed by the Romans, the Vandals, the Byzantines and only then the first Muslims.”

  “It sounds fascinating, but very hard work for you, my Lord.”

  “It is.”

  “I have always heard that the Muslim religion has a very mystic side to it.”

  “I can see you know more than I had expected,” Lord Orsett said, “and you will therefore appreciate what I have written.”

  “It will be very fascinating for – me.”

  They went on talking about the different peoples who inhabited different parts of Africa.

  She thought as they talked that he appeared to have forgotten his anger and, because she was really interested in what he was saying, she plied him with questions and then forgot for a moment that there was a strange relationship between them.

  She talked to him as if to a man who could tell her so much of what she wanted to know, which indeed he could.

  After coffee had been served to them and Lord Orsett had accepted a glass of brandy, the servants withdrew.

  For the first time since they had sat down at the table Kelda began to feel constrained and shy.

  It struck her that there were so many questions she wanted to ask about their future life together and yet she had no idea how to start.

  She had the feeling that he too was considering his words and perhaps something else and she could not guess what it might be.

  She only felt apprehensively that he was thinking of her and she longed to know in what way.

  Then suddenly the door opened and a woman came into the room.

  For a moment, because she was wearing native dress, Kelda thought that she must be a servant and barely glanced at her.

  Then, as she realised that Lord Orsett had stiffened, she looked at her again and saw that the woman was extremely attractive and she was sure that she was a métise.

  There was no mistaking the distinct trace of European in her features. At the same time her smooth coffee-coloured skin spoke of her African ancestry.

  She carried herself superbly and her hair was arranged in the hairstyle of a dozen tiny plaits curled round at the end, which was characteristic, as Kelda had already seen, of many of the native women in Dakar.

  She wore a boubous in an exquisite shade of purple and her gold jewellery interspersed with amber was obviously very valuable.

  She walked to the table with an unmistakable self-assurance, her eyes on Lord Orsett.

  “What do you want, Antoinette?” he enquired of her in French.

  “I have been told down in the market,” she replied, speaking in the same language, “that you are married. I just cannot believe it is true or that you would not have informed me of it before the Ceremony actually took place.”

  “I intended doing so this afternoon.”

  As Antoinette opened her mouth to speak again, he rose to his feet.

  “As you are here,” he said, “we can talk about it now in another room.”

  He walked towards the door as he spoke, opened it and went out without waiting for her.

  She followed him without even glancing in Kelda’s direction and it was impossible not to notice that she moved with such an exquisite grace that was somehow reminiscent of the gazelles that Kelda had seen when she had been out riding.

  Kelda sat at the dining table as if she had been turned to stone.

  So this was the woman Yvette had heard one of her cousins speaking about and whom he had said was a métise.

  There was no doubt that was what she was and she could understand, she thought, what Lord Orsett felt about her, because she was extremely beautiful and as vivid as the flowers.

  Ten minutes went by and now the excitement that Kelda had felt before luncheon and the joy of feeling safe, secure and belonging had gone.

  Instead she felt a sudden depression sweep over her almost as if the sunshine was blotted out.

  In response to Lord Orsett’s toast she had replied that she hoped she would make him happy, but she felt now that there was no reason for her to trouble herself on his account as he had Antoinette.

  It now struck her how hollow her life would be when all he required of her was that she should be simply an instrument to persuade other women, principally the French, to come out and live in Dakar.

  There was nothing personally she could do for him. She was just a symbol and doubtless he would find it more and more irksome to even pretend to enjoy her company.

  All these years, she told herself, while he had gained the reputation of being a recluse, he had found contentment in writing his book and with Antoinette.

  Kelda thought how inadequate her own looks must appear beside those of the métise.

  Antoinette was tall with the superb carriage of those who for generations had walked with heavy loads on their heads. She would also, because of her mixed blood, Kelda thought, have a fascination and a joie de vivre that had been so much like Yvette.

  She had always felt that the French had a charm that the English could never emulate and Antoinette would doubtless have her father’s quick wit and her mother’s calm acceptance of life so characteristic of Africa.

  She had also the mystery and the magic of which she and Lord Orsett had been talking about.

  Kelda wondered how many years she and Lord Orsett had been together, years in which perhaps he had loved her as she loved him.

  But he could not marry her even though he might long to. Perhaps secretly Antoinette had hoped he would do so, only now to have her hopes shattered with the news that he had married someone else.

  Lord Orsett now came back into the room.

  He seemed unperturbed and moved in an unhurried manner back to his place at the top of the table.

  Kelda watched him.

  What had he and Antoinette said to each other? So what had happened when they were alone?

  Lord Orsett picked up his glass of brandy.

  “I must apologise for that untimely interruption,” he declared in his usual cynical voice. “Antoinette wanted to make sure of her money and behaved somewhat unconventionally by coming to collect it in person.”

  The way he spoke and the indifference that he dismissed the whole episode with made Kelda feel suddenly very angry.

  Without really meaning to she rose to her feet.

  “I am very sure that is – untrue,” she said. “I don’t know how you can – speak in such a manner of someone who – loves you. Although you may not be – aware of it – women have hearts!”

  Her voice broke on the last word.

  Then, because she could not bear him to see how deeply he had affected her, she turned and ran from the room as swiftly as her feet could carry her along the passage and then up the stairs.

  One of the maids was at the top and, when Kelda wo
uld have turned in the direction of her bedroom, she said,

  “This way, madame.”

  Kelda, fighting for self-controlm, was not prepared to argue but allowed the maid to lead her into a large bedroom that she had not seen before.

  There was a huge four-poster bed there draped at the top with white mosquito netting in a manner which made it appear like a galleon with its sails set.

  But Kelda had no eyes for the room. She only wished to be alone.

  “Madame must have a siesta,” the maid suggested.

  Because for the moment she could not trust her voice, Kelda stood still as her pink gown was unbuttoned and taken from her.

  Then one of the soft lace-trimmed nightgowns that Yvette had given her was put over her head and almost before she was aware of what was happening she was in bed, the blinds were lowered and the door closed quietly behind the departing maid.

  It was then that Kelda put both hands over her face and, as if the mere action of doing so released the tension within her like the collapse of a dam, she burst into tears.

  She cried tempestuously in an abandoned manner as she had not cried since her father and mother had been killed.

  She could not really reason to herself why she was so unhappy.

  It merely seemed as if once again her world had fallen apart, her dreams were shattered into pieces and everything she wished for was smashed and broken.

  *

  Kelda stirred, realised that she had been asleep for quite a long time and heard someone moving carefully about the room.

  She opened her eyes and knew that when she had climbed into bed the sun had been hot and golden outside.

  Now it was dark.

  She thought at first that it was only because the curtains were drawn and then she knew it was night and the maid was lighting the candles on her dressing table.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Seven o’clock, madame, and I have prepared your bath.”

  “Seven o’clock?” Kelda repeated stupidly.

  She knew that she had slept not only because she was so desperately tired having had no sleep the night before, but also because of the dreams she had experienced earlier in the day and because she had cried to the point of utter exhaustion.