Women have Hearts Read online

  “Then who will the dragon send with me?” Yvette asked.

  “I have no idea. Perhaps she has a friend who would like to journey to Africa or perhaps she will go herself.”

  “Then I shall definitely jump overboard,” Yvette said firmly. “I am not travelling with old Gladwin and that’s a fact!”

  Even as she spoke, the door opened and then to Yvette’s and Kelda’s astonishment Mrs. Gladwin came into the room.

  It was unusual for her to leave her own quarters once supper was over and she seldom visited the girls’ bedrooms except for her inspection which took place weekly in the morning.

  Then she would walk around deliberately to find fault and it was Kelda’s self-appointed task to hide away anything that the girls had forgotten that she thought might evoke Mrs. Gladwin's disapproval before she appeared.

  Food, fruit and sweets were totally forbidden and anything decorative and in any way ostentatious was always in danger of being confiscated.

  As Mrs. Gladwin stepped into the room, it was so unexpected and in a way so unusual that for several perceptible seconds Yvette forgot to rise from her chair.

  Mrs. Gladwin was, however, glaring at Kelda.

  “I had a suspicion I might find you here, Kelda,” she began. “As I have told you before, I will not have you gossiping in the young ladies’ rooms, which is neither proper nor in the sphere of your duties. If you have nothing better to do, I will certainly find you something.”

  “As Mademoiselle was so very upset today,” Kelda said in her soft voice, “I brought her something warm to drink, knowing that it was in a way a medication.”

  “If Yvette needs one, I will send for the physician,” Mrs. Gladwin said automatically.

  She then looked sharply at Yvette.

  “I presume,’ she said, “you have been crying again and making a quite unnecessary fuss about your uncle’s plans for your future.”

  As she was already so overwrought, the tears gathered again in Yvette’s eyes and Mrs. Gladwin rattled on,

  “You must learn to control yourself. As I have told you so often, self-control comes from being civilised and properly educated.”

  Yvette did not reply and, as she was searching for her handkerchief in the belt of her gown, two tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “I have been thinking over the difficulties of your reaching Dakar,” Mrs. Gladwin said. “That is why I have come to ask you once again if there is anyone you know in England who would be prepared to accompany you on this journey.”

  “I have already told you, Madam, I know of no one,” Yvette responded.

  “There is no Governess you have had in the past who would for a remuneration, a small one, of course, act as your chaperone?”

  “The Governess I had before I came here,” Yvette replied, “has a good position in Paris teaching the children of the Duc de Beauclaire. So I am quite certain she would be unable to come with me, even if she wanted to, which I very much doubt.”

  Mrs. Gladwin ignored the last words, which were obviously rude and stood in the centre of the small bedroom thinking.

  Kelda would have so liked to inch past her and reach the door, but she had a feeling it would only bring more wrath down upon her head.

  She therefore stood where she was, hoping that she could fade into the background and not draw any unnecessary attention to herself.

  “Very well,” Mrs. Gladwin said, at last as if she had finally made up her mind, “if that is actually the position, the only thing I can do is to send Kelda with you.”

  She paused for a moment, ignoring the startled expressions on both Yvette’s and Kelda’s faces and went on,

  “Of course being a ‘charity child’ she is nothing more than a servant and she can act in the capacity of your lady’s maid as well as keeping you constantly in her sight.”

  There was still no response from either of the two girls and she went on as if to herself,

  “I shall send a letter at once to the Steamship Company explaining your circumstances and I am quite certain that your uncle’s name will carry great weight with them so there will be no difficulty about your having the best possible attention.”

  She paused before she continued,

  “I shall also ask if there are any respectable English people on board. The Steamship authorities will, I believe, as they do in the case of ladies travelling to India, invite one of the lady passengers to keep an eye on you and act as your official chaperone until you do reach Dakar.”

  Yvette found her voice eventually.

  “I shall be – all right with – Kelda.”

  “That is what I hope, although I am none too confident of her capabilities in looking after herself, let alone you,” Mrs. Gladwin retorted. “But I am certain, yes, I am quite certain that there will be someone on board you can be entrusted to once the ship has left Southampton. I shall take you on board myself so that your uncle will have no reason to worry about you.”

  Mrs. Gladwin stopped speaking to look at Kelda’s wide eyes and pale face.

  “As for you, Kelda,” she insisted, “if you fail the charge I have put upon you, if you are unworthy of my trust, I can assure you that you will never darken the doors of this house ever again!”

  Mrs. Gladwin did not wait for any reply, but she merely turned with a rustling of her silk petticoats.

  “Go to bed, Yvette and say a prayer of gratitude to God that you have somebody like myself to take care of you, who has your best interests at heart.”

  Mrs. Gladwin left the room.

  For a moment neither Yvette nor Kelda moved.

  It was almost as if they had been turned into stone.

  Then Kelda, beneath her breath and in a voice that was barely above a whisper, said,

  “It is not – true. I could not have – heard what she said. I must be – dreaming.”

  “It is true,” Yvette answered, “although I can hardly believe it! And, Kelda, if anything could make the journey to my uncle bearable, it is knowing that you are coming with me. I shall say a prayer of gratitude all right, but only because without you I know that I should die of misery on the voyage.”

  Chapter Two

  As the Steamship moved out of Southampton Harbour and joined the English Channel, Kelda had gripped her fingers together tightly to make sure that she was not dreaming.

  She could hardly believe it was possible that for the moment at any rate she was leaving behind the misery she had felt at the Seminary and in England itself where for the last eight years she had been consistently unhappy to the point of despair.

  Now like the wave of a magic wand everything was changed.

  At least for two whole months she would be free of Mrs. Gladwin’s fault-finding and of continually being reminded that she was nothing but a ‘charity child’.

  It had been a thrill for her, although not for Yvette, that she was on board a ship.

  Because Lord Orsett was obviously very rich and influential, they were allotted two of the best cabins on the First Class deck communicating with each other.

  There was a large number of obliging Stewards to carry their luggage and to ask if there was anything they could do to serve them.

  Kelda’s luggage looked pathetically small beside the large amount of trunks in which she had packed Yvette’s gowns, bonnets and sunshades and a whole number of other things she had insisted on buying at the last moment.

  “If I do have to go to some benighted hole at the other end of the world,” she had said defiantly to Mrs. Gladwin, “I am not going to be ashamed of my appearance and so until I actually leave I intend to spend the time shopping.”

  For once Mrs. Gladwin had no viable arguments as to why she should not do so.

  Because the Mistresses could not be spared the time, Kelda had accompanied Yvette on a number of shopping expeditions for which a closed carriage was hired, as, of course, Yvette was not allowed to travel by public transport.

  It was all so exciting that Kelda had fo
und herself praying at night that nothing would happen to prevent her from going to Senegal, even though she well knew that every day their departure grew nearer, Yvette became more despondent.

  “I shall be buried alive,” she kept saying over and over again and there was nothing that Kelda could say to console her.

  She wrote to all her relatives in Paris begging them to intervene on her behalf, but they wrote back saying that there was nothing they could do as her uncle was her Guardian.

  Kelda, who saw all the letters, had a feeling that they were over-awed by Lord Orsett’s wealth and standing.

  “Why did he go to Senegal in the first place?” she asked.

  Yvette shrugged her shoulders.

  “I cannot imagine unless it was to be different from everyone else.”

  “Had he been there before he married your aunt?”

  “I don’t think so. I have always heard that Aunt Ginette was very pretty and enjoyed gaiety and parties.”

  “It seems strange that he should have taken her to Africa.”

  “Everything about Uncle Maximus is so strange,” Yvette said, “and I cannot understand why Mama ever made him my Guardian.”

  “I suppose she thought that he would look after you properly and could afford to do so,” Kelda replied.

  “You keep talking about his money,” Yvette said sharply. “Have you forgotten that I am an heiress?”

  “Only now that your father and mother are dead,” Kelda pointed out gently.

  Yvette did not reply because she hated to talk about her uncle and Kelda knew that she was becoming increasingly apprehensive about seeing him again.

  There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but as she knew that they upset Yvette, she thought it best to wait until they had actually begun their journey towards her mysterious relative to live in a part of Africa that seemed mysterious too.

  Kelda had searched every guide book in the school to find out something about Senegal, but, although it had been officially a French Colony since 1848, there was very little written about it in the history and travel books, which were predominately English.

  The geography books contented themselves with merely showing a map of the area and reiterating that it was under French rule.

  She did discover, however, that four years earlier a decree had created the Government of French West Africa headed by a Governor-General.

  She found that Senegal had the equivalent of a Council of a French Department, but she was not quite certain what this meant.

  She longed to have someone to explain all these queries to her before she actually arrived in Senegal and she thought that this was perhaps where she missed her father’s wisdom and knowledge of the world more than she had ever missed him before.

  ‘How thrilled Papa would be to think that I was going exploring again,’ she told herself and then wondered desperately how long her exploration would last.

  Mrs. Gladwin had been quite firm that she was to return to England as soon as Yvette had settled down with her uncle.

  “Get it into your head, Kelda,” she had said in her disagreeable voice, “that you are only going as a travelling companion with Mademoiselle since I cannot find anyone else. You will not intrude in any way upon his Lordship’s household and you will return at the first possible opportunity.”

  She paused and added almost spitefully,

  “I shall expect you back in January without fail.”

  Kelda nodded her head in agreement because there was nothing else she could do.

  But she knew that once Mrs. Gladwin had left the ship they were travelling in, she would pray every night that she would never see her again and so find some excuse for staying in Dakar or any other part of the world where she could earn her living in a different way.

  ‘Perhaps there will be schools where I could teach or I might even serve in a shop,’ she told herself.

  Then she laughed as she remembered the native bazaars and markets she had attended with her father and mother and knew that the idea of a white woman being employed in them was very impractical if not impossible.

  For the present moment, however, she was in a ship travelling from one Port to another and so in a ‘no-man’s land’ where she was free of any restrictions except those imposed upon her by her own sense of propriety.

  Mrs. Gladwin had, of course, written to the Steamship Company seeking a chaperone for Yvette.

  The Purser had introduced her to an elderly couple, a Methodist Minister and his wife, who were returning to South Africa after a visit to England to see their children.

  As they had little money of their own, they were deeply grateful that their congregation had contrived to raise the money for their fares and had insisted, as they were both elderly, that they should travel First Class.

  They had been overwhelmed when Mrs. Gladwin bore down on them like a ship in full sail and hastily agreed to anything she asked them for.

  Kelda had realised they were far too retiring and unassuming to think of interfering with anyone, least of all with someone as pretty and obviously aristocratic as Yvette.

  Because in her drab garments they took Kelda to be little more than a senior servant, they could talk to her more easily, but after two days at sea when they both felt unwell she found herself looking after them rather than them looking after Yvette and herself.

  The first night aboard Yvette began to take an interest in the other passengers.

  “A rather dull lot, I think,” she confided to Kelda, “with the exception of one young man who looks interesting.”

  “Where is he?” Kelda asked.

  It had been announced the first night at dinner that passengers could sit anywhere they wished and that the places at the Captain’s and the Chief Officers’ tables would be allotted the following day.

  Kelda had travelled often enough to know that this was a precaution on the part of the Captain against overlooking an important passenger who by rights should have been sitting at his table only to find later that there was no place for him.

  She thought it wise to ask the Chief Steward when they entered the Dining Saloon if she and Yvette could have one of the small tables for two.

  “Why have you asked for this table?” Yvette enquired as soon as they were seated.

  “It will give us a chance to look around,” Kelda explained, “and know who to avoid.”

  Yvette laughed.

  “I never thought of that, but I can see quite a number of people who will come into that category. My father used to laugh about ships’ bores who told the same story over and over again from Portsmouth to Port Said and Mama used to run from the gossips who disparaged anyone who was in the least attractive and said the most slanderous things about them.”

  Yvette laughed again.

  “That will be me!”

  “In which case please be careful,” Kelda pleaded. “Don’t forget that I am in charge of you and if you behave badly I shall get the blame.”

  “Who is to know how I behave?” Yvette asked her. “Besides, if I have an outrageous reputation by the time I arrive at Dakar perhaps Uncle Maximus will send me home to Paris in disgrace.”

  “I would not bank on it, but please, dearest Yvette, remember how angry he will be with me and I shall be sent back, not to Paris like you, but to the dreaded Mrs. Gladwin.”

  Yvette made a grimace.

  “Then we must certainly stop that from happening. And I have every intention, Kelda, of keeping you with me whatever Uncle Maximus may say.”

  This statement did not make Kelda feel as happy as it should have done.

  From all she had heard about Lord Orsett, she was quite certain that he would do exactly what he wanted to do and make everyone else do the same.

  If he wished her to leave, she would leave whatever Yvette might say in the matter, but she went on praying that someone somehow would save her from returning to England.

  Yvette had noticed a rather good-looking young man the first night
and Kelda had seen when she pointed him out that he had noticed her.

  It might have been chance but Kelda suspected that it was connivance when after they had been allotted places at the Captain’s table for luncheon the following day, the young man was seated next to Yvette.

  They had learned that his name was Rémy Mendès, but at luncheon they only exchanged commonplace remarks on the weather, the speed of the ship and the fact that there were so few young people on board it looked as if it would be difficult to arrange sports of any kind.

  “I shall have to get my exercise by jogging round the deck,” Monsieur Mendès said, “but I would much rather play badminton or quoits, although I believe that quoits is rather hard on the hands.”

  “I can play badminton,” Yvette volunteered, “although not very well, I am afraid.”

  ‘Then I must certainly challenge you to a game,” Monsieur Mendès replied instantly, as she had obviously intended him to do.

  As soon as luncheon was over, Yvette and Kelda went to the Saloon as it was too rough and too cold for them to go outside on deck.

  Kelda was not at all surprised that they had no sooner seated themselves in one corner of the room and ordered coffee than Monsieur Mendès asked if he could join them.

  Yvette introduced Kelda to him and it was obvious that after one glance at her clothes, he thought she was merely a paid chaperone and after a formal bow he concentrated entirely on Yvette.

  “Now we can talk,” he said in a manner that was obviously intended only for her ears.

  His dark eyes looked into Yvette’s and there was no doubt about the look of admiration in them or that he was already very attracted to her.

  ‘I wonder if I ought to do anything about it,’ Kelda asked herself and had no idea what the answer should be.

  “Are you going to Cape Town?” he asked Yvette. “I believe it is a very attractive place, although I have never been there before.”

  “No, I am going to Dakar,” Yvette replied.

  “To Dakar?”

  There was no doubt that Monsieur Mendès was astonished.

  Yvette did not reply and he exclaimed,

  “I cannot believe it! Did you really say Dakar?”