Women have Hearts

by Barbara Cartland

  She wondered if Lord Orsett, when she met him, would answer the questions she longed to ask.

  They drove in silence for quite some way until the houses were left behind and they were now moving along what seemed nothing but a dusty track with the sea on their left.

  The land rose until there were steep cliffs down to the water’s edge.

  It was then suddenly that Kelda saw in front of them what she thought at first must be a Mosque or some civic building.

  It was surrounded by trees except for the side that looked out towards the sea and, when the road ended with large wrought-iron gates tipped with gold, she knew at once that they had reached what Yvette had called her uncle’s ‘Palace’.

  It certainly looked like one, dazzlingly white and sublime in the sunshine.

  It was almost like a Georgian house back in England, except that its long windows and its ornamentation gave it an undoubted Eastern look.

  There was a flag flying over the pillared portico that Kelda suspected was Lord Orsett’s personal standard and, as they swept up to the entrance, she saw that the hibiscus shrubs with their brilliant crimson blossoms made it almost appear as if the big white building was being consumed by fire.

  “It is certainly very lovely,” she exclaimed.

  “I am – frightened,” Yvette murmured.

  “I am sure there is no need to be,” Kelda replied, although she was far from feeling as confident as her words sounded. “Your uncle certainly appreciates beauty if nothing else.”

  She knew that Yvette wanted to say that this was not particularly comforting, but at that moment the carriage drew up beside a flight of steps covered with a red carpet.

  Servants wearing all white, on the front of which was embellished Lord Orsett’s Coat of Arms in red, appeared in the doorway.

  Yvette climbed out of the carriage slowly and Kelda followed her.

  She could not help feeling thankful that she was not wearing those ugly clothes in which Mrs. Gladwin had expected her to appear.

  Instead she had chosen for her arrival a pale green gown of Yvette’s that made her look very young and spring-like.

  The hat she wore was decorated with white roses and green leaves that were the colour of the gown and she thought that she made a perfect foil for Yvette who was in pink in which Rémy liked her better than in any other colour.

  It was a very elaborate gown, almost too elaborate, Kelda thought, but she just knew that Yvette wanted to appear at her best, and not only was her hat decorated with roses, but they also appeared on the small sunshade she carried which boasted a handle of pink quartz.

  “You look lovely, dearest,” Kelda had told Yvette and she thought that Lord Orsett must be made of stone if he did not appreciate how pretty and attractive his niece was.

  A servant, who was obviously in command of the rest, invited them in French to follow him and took them through an impressive hall.

  As in most large houses in tropical parts of the world there were doors at each end of it, which were left wide open so that what wind there was, could blow to cool the building even at the hottest part of the day.

  Through the other door Kelda could see the deep blue of the sea and she knew that Lord Orsett’s house, high on the cliffs, would have a special view that she would greatly enjoy.

  But for the moment she was too apprehensive of what he himself would be like to be interested in anything else.

  A servant opened the door to the left of them and, as he did so, Kelda saw what seemed to be an enormous room with six long windows opening out onto a terrace.

  The sun-blinds were half down to keep out the sun and the room itself was dim and cool so that for the moment it was hard to see if it was occupied until at the far end she saw a man rise to his feet and knew at one that it was Lord Orsett.

  Yvette walked ahead of her, then as Kelda followed, she saw Lord Orsett for the first time and found him very different from what she had imagined.

  To begin with, from the way Yvette always spoke of him, she thought he must be a man of at least fifty or more, but instead he was much younger and had a physique that could rival any of the natives she had admired as they drove from the Port.

  Broad-shouldered and dressed in a white suit, he seemed large and overpowering. Then, as she looked at his face, she was startled.

  His features were clean-cut and he looked very handsome in an aristocratic and typically English manner. At the same time he also appeared cynical and stern to the point of grimness.

  He was looking at Yvette and Kelda thought with a little shiver that he appeared to be inspecting her almost dispassionately without a vestige of affection.

  It was a most critical appraisement, she thought, and there was something unnatural and almost unpleasant about it.

  “Welcome to Dakar, Yvette,” Lord Orsett said in a deep voice that somehow contrived to be cold and impersonal. “I hope you had a pleasant voyage.”

  Yvette curtseyed.

  “Very pleasant, thank you, Uncle Maximus. May I present my friend, Kelda Lawrence, who has accompanied me on the voyage?”

  Lord Orsett turned his attention to Kelda, who also curtseyed and found it hard to meet his eyes, although she forced herself to do so.

  “Friend?” he queried. “I instructed the woman who runs your school to send a Mistress with you.”

  “They all refused to come so far as ‒ Africa.”

  There was a little pause before Yvette said the last word and Kelda knew that she was about to add ‘such an outlandish place’ but checked herself at the last moment.

  “But Miss Lawrence was more obliging,” Lord Orsett remarked.

  He did not make it sound very complimentary and Kelda commented,

  “It has been a privilege, my Lord.”

  “Kelda is very used to travelling, Uncle Maximus,” Yvette said quickly as if she was conscious of his disapproval. “Her father was Philip Lawrence, the archaeologist, and she visited many places with him before he died.”

  “Indeed.”

  Lord Orsett did not sound interested and both girls were conscious of his disapproval that Yvette was not accompanied by an older woman than Kelda.

  “I must offer you some refreshment,” he suggested. “It is hot at this time of the day and most people make it an excuse for a siesta.”

  He spoke as if this was a weakness to which he would not succumb, but before Yvette or Kelda could say anything more, the door then opened and servants came in carrying a tray on which were long cool drinks and small sweetmeats to eat, which Kelda found delicious.

  They sat down on the sofas and chairs, which were so large and comfortable that Kelda was certain that Lord Orsett must have chosen them himself.

  She took a quick glance around the room and then decided if he loved beauty outside his house, he most certainly enjoyed both beauty and comfort in it. The room was furnished in exquisite taste with pictures on the walls that she was sure were exceptional and what was unusual was that the room was uncluttered, unlike what she knew was fashionable in most houses in England.

  There were some fine pieces of china and carvings that she was certain had been done by native craftsmen, but otherwise the room with its very fine proportions had a cool emptiness, which she knew, as her father had told her, was characteristic of the great architects who had built beautiful houses in the eighteenth century.

  However it was difficult to think of anything except their host.

  He sat back at his ease, but it would have been impossible to ignore him, Kelda thought, because his very personality seemed to exude strength and power.

  And something else that made her afraid.

  She tried to analyse what it was and thought it might be a kind of domination of will, as if he was so determined to have his own way that one felt drawn to him irresistibly as if by a magnet.

  “What do you think of him?” Yvette asked her a little later when they had been shown to their bedrooms.

  “I think he
is exceedingly frightening,” Kelda replied, before she had time to consider her words.

  “So you know how I am feeling,” Yvette said. “How can I tell him, how can I possibly tell him, Kelda, that I am engaged to Rémy?”

  “I should say nothing,” Kelda advised, “until Rémy calls on you tomorrow.”

  “I am sure that is wise,” Yvette agreed with a little sigh. “I feel if we argue with him he would crush us as if we were insects beneath his foot.”

  That, Kelda thought, was true, but that it would be wise not to say so.

  She suddenly felt that both she and Yvette were somehow small and very insignificant.

  Here they were in Africa and, unless Lord Orsett agreed to what they wished, they were to all intents and purposes now prisoners in this magnificent mansion and there was no one to whom they could appeal for help or even advice.

  Then she decided that she was frightening herself unnecessarily and on no account must Yvette know what she was thinking.

  Instead she walked over to the window to look out at what she had known would be an exquisitely beautiful view.

  The Atlantic, glorious and blue as the Madonna’s robe, lay in front of her ending in a misty horizon where the sea met the sky.

  To the left she could just see the island of Gorée and to the right the coastline stretched away, golden with sand and green with coconut trees.

  The fishermen were putting out to sea in little pointed boats, which she had read were called pirogues. There was something delicate and romantic about them and she wondered if she would ever have the chance to go in one.

  Behind her sitting on the bed which looked as large and luxurious as the rest of the room, Yvette was talking.

  Kelda turned from the window.

  “You did not tell me,” she said, “that your uncle was so young. I expected a much older man, at least old enough to be your father.”

  “He seems very old to me.”

  “How old is he?”

  “I think about thirty-six or thirty-seven,” Yvette replied, “and that is old enough in all conscience.”

  Kelda smiled.

  “He would not be flattered to hear you say so.”

  “I don’t suppose that he would care what I thought or said about him,” Yvette replied petulantly. “You can easily see what he is like, completely engrossed in himself and his own consequence. Rémy says that he is not liked by any of the young men in Dakar because he condescends to them, but he is a good friend of the Governor-General.”

  ”1 expects he condescends to him too,” Kelda replied. “I do wonder why he should stay here when he is English. After all, it is a French Colony.”

  “I suppose as my aunt was French he prefers the French to the English. Some people do, you know.”

  Yvette was teasing Kelda because she had often laughed at her for being so patriotic and proud of her own country.

  “What have the English ever done for you,” she asked once, “except shove you into an orphanage?”

  “Whatever they do or do not do, I am still English,” Kelda replied.

  “And I am French, thank Heaven!” Yvette had parried proudly.

  “We should walk about with our flags sewn on us,” Kelda said.

  And both laughed.

  Now, thinking of Lord Orsett she felt that as an Englishman he should be living in his own country.

  ‘Surely he has houses and large estates in England if he is as rich as they say he is,’ she thought. “Why should he want to spend his money in Dakar?”

  It was indeed a mystery and she thought that she was never likely to get an answer to her question.

  “Do you suppose we ought to go downstairs and talk to Uncle Maximus?” Yvette asked.

  “It would be polite,” Kelda answered. “I would like to see the rest of the house and if it is cool enough perhaps we could sit out on the terrace and look at the sea.”

  “I hate the sea!” Yvette replied. “I want to look out of a window and see all the roofs of Paris. I want my Rémy to take me dancing. I want to hear the conversation and the gossip of people who enjoy life, which, as you can see for yourself, is something that Uncle Maximus does not do.”

  “Then why does he stay here?” Kelda asked again.

  “Only he can answer that question, but I doubt if you would get a truthful answer out of him.”

  “Let’s go down and try,” Kelda suggested.

  They went down the stairs and when they reached the hall the head servant told them that he had been instructed by his Lordship to show them any part of the house they wished to see. Then there would be tea waiting for them on the terrace.

  It was a relief that they would be able to look at everything without being accompanied by their host and, as they went from one huge beautiful room to another, Kelda knew that she had been right in thinking that Lord Orsett had exceptionally good taste.

  He had managed to combine things he had brought from Europe with those that he had either collected or had made for him in Senegal.

  There were carvings that she would like to be able to talk to someone knowledgeable about, knowing that they were very old and doubtless steeped in the legends of Africa.

  There were metals that she thought must be very precious and weaving that had a special charm of its own.

  There were many things she wanted to stop and view, but she saw that Yvette was bored and she told herself that there would be plenty of time later.

  They hurried on and finally found themselves on the terrace with an almost English tea waiting for them served by several servants.

  “Do you think Uncle Maximus ever entertains people here?” Yvette asked. “There is plenty of room to do so.”

  “It was you who told me that he was a recluse,” Kelda replied.

  “That is what they said in Paris and Rémy told me that, with the one exception that he sometimes dines with the Governor-General, he never appears to go anywhere.”

  “What does he do all the time?”

  Yvette shrugged her shoulders.

  “Perhaps he just sits hating everybody or practising some special magic of his own.”

  Kelda did not reply and after a moment Yvette said,

  “You have not forgotten that I want to use black magic on him. But I have a feeling that it would have to be very strong and very potent.”

  “Let us hope you will get everything you want without resorting to such tactics,” Kelda replied.

  At the same time she thought that Lord Orsett was a very mysterious man.

  Because the house was so big, she had a feeling that she and Yvette were isolated in it, even while she told herself that it was ridiculous to think such a thing.

  There was no sign of Lord Orsett after they had finished their tea, when the head servant appeared again to tell them that their luggage had arrived and was being unpacked and that dinner would be at eight o’clock.

  Yvette merely nodded to show that she understood what she had been told, but Kelda asked,

  “Where shall we meet his Lordship before dinner?”

  “I will be waiting, m’mselle, at the foot of the stairs to escort you to whichever room his Lordship wishes to receive you in.”

  “Thank you,” Kelda murmured.

  She rose to her feet as she spoke and she and Yvette went upstairs.

  Because it was early in the year darkness came swiftly and by five o’clock it was already much cooler than it had been all day.

  They had celebrated Christmas Day at sea and, while the staff on the Steamship had done their best to make it a joyous festive occasion and there had been crackers to pull and small souvenirs brought in by ‘Father Christmas’ for all the guests, the passengers had been mostly too old or too dull to make it really amusing.

  Kelda, however, had enjoyed it all although Yvette and Rémy had been too interested in each other to want to take part.

  They had not listened to the concert that had taken place in the lounge, although they had danced to
the band that had played later in the evening.

  Now in the sunshine of Dakar it was difficult to think that in England there would still frost, snow, ice and hail storms and that, if she was at the Seminary, she would be shivering at night in the garret in which she slept because Mrs. Gladwin would never provide her with enough blankets.

  Upstairs they found two maids in each room unpacking their gowns.

  They were both pretty girls dressed in cotton gowns such as housemaids would wear in England, but with their heads swathed in red turbans to match the large red insignia worn by the men servants.

  “His Lordship undoubtedly likes colours,” Kelda remarked when she and Yvette were alone and the maids had withdrawn.

  “Why should you say that?” Yvette asked.

  “His servants are so colourful and there is lots of colour in the rooms, although they give the impression of being all white.”

  “What are you suggesting that we should do about it?” Yvette asked. “Paint our faces the colours of the rainbow?”

  “No, not that,” Kelda smiled, “but do wear one of your brighter gowns this evening. You know we have to make a good impression on him.”

  “I will wear the cherry-coloured tulle that Rémy likes.”

  “In which case I will wear the blue chiffon you gave me.”

  “Do you think that is smart enough for his Lordship?” Yvette teased her.

  “You are the important person,” Kelda answered, “and personally I do admire myself so much in the lovely clothes you have given me that it does not worry me what his Lordship thinks one way or the other.”

  “I wish I could say the same.”

  Yvette gave a little groan and added,

  “Just you think, Kelda, if I had not met Rémy, how miserable I should be feeling at this moment. Supposing I thought I had to be shut up here for years and years with no one to talk to except Uncle Maximus ? ”

  “There must be Europeans living in Dakar.”

  “Only men and according to Rémy, Uncle Maximus never asks anyone to his house who is young. Rémy has only been here twice when he accompanied the Governor-General for some reason or other.”

  Kelda did not reply, but she could understand what Yvette was saying and she thought that anyone so full of life and energy would doubtless find it extremely dull after she had known the gaieties and fun of Paris.