The Wings of Ecstacy Read online

  For a moment he looked down at her eyes shining with a radiance that seemed almost blinding, her cheeks flushed against the whiteness of her skin, and her lips parted from the insistence of his.

  There was no need to speak – the Comte knew that Zena’s heart was beating tumultuously against him.

  He knew too that this kiss was very different from any kiss he had ever known before.

  Then he was kissing her again, kissing her with long, slow, passionate kisses that left them both trembling and at the same time ecstatic and once again journeying towards the heart of the sun.

  *

  A long time later, as if the Comte felt they could no longer stand locked in each other’s arms but needed support, he drew Zena to the sofa.

  As they sat down, she raised her eyes to his and he said,

  “Could anybody be more perfect, more alluring? But, my precious, I must talk to you.”

  Even as he spoke, they heard footsteps outside the door and as it opened and Kendric came in, the Comte moved a little way from Zena.

  “I am sorry to be late,” Kendric exclaimed, throwing his top hat down on a chair, “but I have been seeing a number of Philippe’s friends and I have a marvellous invitation for us this evening.”

  “Invita – tion?” Zena asked in a voice that did not sound like her own.

  The Comte rose slowly to his feet.

  “That sounds as if you do not intend to accept mine.”

  “I am sorry, de Graumont,” Kendric replied, “perhaps we can dine with you tomorrow night, but we have been asked, Zena and I, to have dinner with Prince Napoleon, which as you are aware, is a Royal Command, and to go on later to a party to be given by La Païva at her house in the Champs Elysées, and that too is something we cannot miss!”

  The Comte frowned.

  “I did not think that you knew the Prince Napoleon.”

  Kendric laughed.

  “I met him today for the first time with one of Philippe’s friends. He told me he was giving a dinner party tonight at his house and he had been informed I had a very beautiful lady friend who he was anxious to meet.”

  Kendric looked at Zena as he spoke and added,

  “I could hardly say to the Prince that you would prefer to dine with somebody else.”

  “N-no – of course not,” Zena agreed.

  “At the same time,” the Comte said, “you know the Prince’s reputation with women? I do not feel that he is the right sort of man for Zena.”

  Kendric shrugged his shoulders.

  “I will look after Zena,” he said, “and it would be impossible, as I have accepted His Royal Highness’s invitation, to back out now.”

  Zena was aware that the Comte was apprehensive and it was with difficulty that he did not make any further protest about Kendric’s arrangements.

  Because she felt it might be uncomfortable if he did so, she held out her hand.

  “I am so sorry we cannot dine with you tonight,” she said, “but please, I would like to accept for tomorrow evening, if you will have us.”

  “I will see you before that,” the Comte answered. “You have already promised that you will let me take you to the Louvre tomorrow morning.”

  Zena’s eyes lit up.

  “Yes, of course,” she said, “and I know Kendric does not like museums or picture galleries, so we can start early.”

  “I will call for you at eleven o’clock,” the Comte promised, “and thank you for a very happy day.”

  He raised her hand to his lips and she thought as he kissed it he said without words how much he minded leaving her and how very wonderful their day had been.

  Then there was nothing the Comte could do now but leave, and when he had gone Kendric exclaimed,

  “Zena! I have so much to tell you! Tonight will be extremely interesting even though your friend de Graumont disapproves.”

  He did not wait for Zena to make any remark, but went on to explain that the Prince Napoleon’s parties, which he had always longed to attend, were the most sought after in Paris.

  “He can only give them at his home while his wife is away in the country,” Kendric explained, “and then he invites all the most famous women in the City.”

  “Women like those we saw at the Café Anglais?” Zena asked.

  “Exactly!” Kendric agreed. “And although I suppose it is wrong for you to do so, you will see the most celebrated of the courtesans who have made Paris the El Dorado of every man in Europe, although their wives and mothers call it something very different!”

  “And that, I am sure, includes Mama!”

  Kendric flung up his hands.

  “She would kill me if she ever finds out where I have taken you!” he said. “But what you will see tonight and the women you will meet will certainly be an education in itself, although it is something you will have to forget the moment you go home.”

  When she was dressing for dinner, Zena admitted to herself that she not only much preferred to be with the Comte but that she loved him.

  The word frightened her and yet she knew that he had stolen her heart and it would never again belong to her or to any other man.

  ‘I love him!’ she whispered to herself, and knew that her love was hopeless and could end in nothing but heartbreak.

  Yet it was an ecstasy to know that he could arouse her to such an inexpressible rapture and that tomorrow she would see him again.

  Tomorrow and for five more days!

  Then for the rest of her life she would have nothing but memories and the misery of knowing that although they were both in the same world they were divided by a chasm as deep as the English Channel and there was nothing they could do to bridge it.

  ‘Perhaps one day, when I am miserable and lonely in England,’ she thought, ‘I may see him again. But if I did what would it do except make me more unhappy than I was already?’

  Then she told herself that somehow after tonight she would contrive to be with the Comte every moment they were in Paris and she would tell Kendric to accept no more invitations on her behalf.

  When she was dressed in one of the gowns that the Arch-duchess had bought for her to wear at the ball which would be given in race-week, she thought when she had mascaraed her eyelashes and reddened her lips that she would not look too insignificant among the Prince Napoleon’s other lady guests.

  She had no wish to arouse his admiration or that of any other man present, but she did not wish to let Kendric down or make those who had arranged to have them both invited to the Prince’s party think that his interests in women were inferior to theirs.

  She knew as she went into the sitting room that Kendric was nervous in case she would look too ladylike.

  His eyes went first to her head.

  The coiffeur had fortunately arrived when Zena was nearly dressed and had made her red-gold hair even more sensational than it usually was.

  He had also arranged in it three diamond brooches in the shape of stars and they glittered with every movement she made.

  She had clasped around her neck a diamond necklace which her mother had told her not to wear until she was married as it was too large for a young girl.

  Kendric’s eyes lingered on the necklace and he said with a smile,

  “When you are asked, don’t forget to say that I gave you that! It will certainly enhance my prestige, although if anybody knew me well they would wonder how I could afford it!”

  Zena was just about to ask him if he had given Yvonne a present. Then she thought that he might think she was questioning his generosity and decided that in any case there would be no necessity for it as he had known her for only a short time.

  Therefore she said nothing and Kendric afraid of being late hurried her downstairs.

  To her surprise she found that her brother had hired a carriage to take them to the Prince Napoleon’s house.

  “You are being very grand!” she remarked.

  “It is expensive but worth it,” Kendric replied, “I dislike s
eeming like a poor relation and I don’t mind telling you that some of Philippe’s friends, because I am from Wiedenstein, are rather patronising.”

  Zena laughed.

  “They would not be that if they knew who you really are!”

  Kendric laughed too.

  “I almost feel like telling them.”

  “Do be careful!” she begged.

  “Don’t worry, drunk or sober, that is one secret I shall not reveal!” Kendric said. “And you be careful too what you say to de Graumont. I have a feeling he is growing rather fond of you.”

  “Why should you think that?” Zena asked.

  “I thought he was jealous because I was taking you to dine with the Prince, and the way he looked at you might have been admiration or it might have been something else.”

  “He has been very kind,” Zena said quickly, “and we had a very interesting talk at luncheon.”

  As she spoke, she realised that it was the first time in her life she had had any secrets from her twin brother.

  She did not want Kendric to know that the Comte had kissed her or in fact that she loved him.

  *

  Never had Zena thought that women could be so beautiful, so superbly gowned, or wear so many expensive jewels.

  But, and it was a very large but, she was absolutely astounded how common was their manner of speaking.

  The men were all distinguished with high-sounding titles and Zena did not have to hear them speak to know that they represented the cream of the French aristocracy as well as holding important posts in the Government.

  But the women were not all of French origin – there were also two English women and a Russian.

  Zena could not tell from the way the Russian spoke if she was cultured or not, but the Frenchwomen did not only speak without Parisian accents, but in their conversation used an argot that was incomprehensible to her, while the two English women spoke in a manner that would have made her mother refuse to engage them as kitchen-maids.

  For the first time Zena thought she understood why Kendric had said that while he was with the dancer he did not talk to her.

  What could these distinguished and obviously very intelligent men have in common with such women who mispronounced the most ordinary words and who had only to open their red lips to sound vulgar?

  She was so bemused while at the same time curious about them, that she sat at the dinner table looking round, forgetting for the moment to be polite and talk to the gentleman on her right.

  Kendric was on her left and she realised that they were seated together because the men and women who had been announced after their own arrival were also paired round the dinner table.

  The Prince’s partner was obviously prepared to act as hostess, and she looked so sensational and was so loaded down with jewels that Zena thought she was like a Prima Donna on a stage, determined to take all the applause for herself.

  “Will you tell me your name, pretty lady?” Zena heard.

  She turned to see that there was a middle-aged man beside her who had an interesting but, she thought, rather debauched face.

  There were lines of dissipation under his eyes that were dark and penetrating and although he had a clever forehead below slightly greying hair, that too was lined with age.

  “My name is Zena, monsieur.”

  “Why have I not met you before?” the gentleman asked.

  “I have only just come to Paris.”

  “Then that accounts for it. I may tell you that my parties, and I am the Marquis de Sade, are as famous as our host’s and I hope you will do me the honour of being my guest.”

  “That is very kind of you, monsieur.”

  As Zena spoke, she was quite certain she had heard of the Marquis de Sade but in what particular connection she could not be sure.

  He bent nearer to her and, as she met his eyes, she decided she did not like him.

  She could not explain why, but the feeling was there that he was a man she should not trust.

  “Am I to understand that you are under the protection of de Villerny?” the Marquis enquired.

  Zena avoided replying to his question by sipping her wine from the twisted glass engraved with the Prince Napoleon’s insignia.

  “He is too young for you,” the Marquis went on. “With your hair I know that, when a man can ignite them, the fires of love can burn fiercely and all-consumingly, but it is unlikely that de Villerny is the right man to do so.”

  “What I would like you to do,” Zena said, “is to tell me the names of these outstanding people around the table. Being a stranger I should love to know who they all are.”

  She thought she was very clever in side-tracking the Marquis into a different subject, but he merely smiled and replied.

  “I want to talk about you, and of course, myself. Tell me how long you have known de Villerny?”

  “For a very long time,” Zena said defiantly, “and we are very happy together.”

  Both those things were true, she thought, and as she spoke she could hear her voice ring with sincerity.

  “I have a very charming house near the Bois which is empty at the moment,” the Marquis said. “I want to show it to you.”

  Zena did not reply and he went on,

  “Tomorrow we will go together to Oscar Massin’s and you shall choose for yourself one of his flower-jewelled brooches which are without exception the finest in the world.”

  Because the way he spoke made Zena feel not only uncomfortable but a little afraid, she said,

  “I do not – understand what you are saying to me, Monsieur le Marquis and if I try to do so – I think – perhaps it will make me – angry.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “You are very young, but you are intelligent enough to know that I am suggesting you change your present protector for one who will make you one of the most famous women in France, in fact a Queen of your own profession.”

  Zena felt she could not have heard him aright.

  Then she thought that just as Kendric had explained to her that the women of Paris received jewels and gowns from men so that they could parade them like racehorses to arouse the envy of their friends, so the women were prepared to accept such gifts from the highest bidder.

  ‘I must not be angry,’ she told herself. ‘I must merely refuse the Marquis’s offer politely but firmly.’

  That was, however, easier said than done, for she realised that the Marquis had apparently made up his mind the moment he saw her that he wanted her, and that he was a man who always got what he wanted in one way or another, and who had no intention of accepting a refusal where she was concerned.

  Whatever protests she made to him he did not listen, and, when finally they left the dining room, she found not only his behaviour incomprehensible but also that of the other guests at the Prince’s table.

  As the meal progressed, she realised that all the men present were behaving in a more and more familiar manner with the women next to them, and the only odd man out appeared to be Kendric who had become absorbed with the lady on his left.

  This was possible because the Prince Napoleon had two women to amuse him, not only the one who was prepared to act as hostess, but also a very celebrated actress whose witty remarks managed to keep her host laughing and also to hold enthralled the gentleman on her other side.

  This left his partner free for Kendric and he was certainly making the most of it.

  In the French fashion, both men and women left the dining room together and Zena took the opportunity of keeping close to the other ladies as they went up the stairs to collect their wraps, for they were all going on to the party given by La Païva.

  When she came downstairs again, to Zena’s relief she saw Kendric standing alone and reached him before any other woman could do so.

  “Do not leave me alone with the Marquis de Sade,” she begged. “He is being rather tiresome.”

  “I have heard about him,” Kendric said. “Have nothing to do with him! If he
gets difficult, I shall take you home.”

  Zena was just about to say that perhaps that would be a good idea anyway when all the other women appeared.

  Before it was possible to say anything more to her brother, she found they were squeezed into a carriage with two other people and could not have a conversation without being overheard.

  Fortunately the other couple were immersed in each other and, as the man kissed and fondled the woman in a way that Zena found most embarrassing, at least, she thought, she was free of the Marquis’s attentions.

  When she had refused to hold his hand at dinner, she had felt his knee pressing against hers and had to twist herself to avoid such advances.

  It was not a very long distance to La Païva’s house and Kendric told her that it was the most luxurious private mansion in Paris and had taken ten years to build.

  When they entered it, there were loud voices and the fragrance of expensive perfume seemed to make it different from any house Zena had ever been in before.

  There was a vast salon lit by five tall windows, with a magnificent ceiling depicting ‘night’ chasing ‘day’ away. The walls were hung with crimson brocade and it seemed almost like a Temple dedicated to pleasure.

  Before this Zena had followed the other ladies up the stairs that were lit by a massive lustre in sculptured bronze and she saw to her astonishment that the steps and bannisters were made entirely of onyx.

  They left their coats in a bedroom where the bed was inlaid with rare woods and ivory and stood like an altar in an alcove.

  “That cost 100,000 francs!” she heard one of the guests say and the voice was sharp with envy.

  There were many other treasures that Zena would have liked to look at, but she was afraid that, if she was away from Kendric for too long, she would find that the lady who had been his neighbour at dinner, might once again monopolise him.

  She therefore hurried down the onyx staircase and, when she reached the salon, she saw to her consternation that the Marquis de Sade and Kendric were speaking angrily to each other.

  She hurried to her brother’s side and as she did so he said,

  “I have told you, Monsieur le Marquis, that Zena is mine, and I have no intention of giving her up to you, or to anybody else!”