“I see what you mean,” Yvette pondered. “Perhaps that was a mistake.”
“Now it is immaterial one way or the other. At the same time you must not put a foot wrong. The maids will call us as they have every morning at half-past six and only I will be already up. You will take no notice when they draw back the curtains and I will go down the stairs and tell your uncle how tired you are and that you would rather spend the morning in bed.”
“So we will have to make do with just your two sheets instead of four,” Yvette said in a practical manner.
It took them a long time to place all Yvette’s most expensive and attractive gowns in the sheets and fasten them with safety pins so that they could be carried easily to the carriage and from the carriage to the ship.
Only when there was no room for anything else, they decided that they could use also the bottom sheet on Yvette’s bed.
In this they packed her hats and sunshades. A pillowcase was filled with her shoes and, when everything was complete, the huge white bundles were hidden in Kelda’s wardrobe.
Yvette flung her arms around Kelda’s neck to say,
“Thank you, thank you! Oh, dearest Kelda, if I really do get away tomorrow, I shall be eternally grateful to you for the rest of my life.”
“You have to get away,” Kelda said. “If this fails, I am sure you will never have another opportunity of escaping.”
“I know,” Yvette murmured, “and for the rest of the night I shall be praying.”
She went to the window as she spoke and looked up at the stars in the sky as if she was already speaking to God and invoking His help.
“I know one thing, Kelda,” she now said, “that if Rémy and I have to be married by the Captain of an English ship, we will as soon as we reach Cape Town find a Catholic Church in which we can be married according to our own religion.”
“I feel sure that Rémy has thought of that already,” Kelda smiled.
“He thinks of everything. Are you surprised that I am so overwhelmingly in love with him?”
“I think he is very clever and you are very clever too,” Kelda replied, “and, when he is Prime Minister of France, you will obviously make him just the sort of wife a Prime Minister should have.”
They both laughed a little tremulously, but their tears were very near the surface.
Then Yvette hugged Kelda again and, as they both knew that it would be wise for them to rest before the excitement of tomorrow. they went to bed.
*
It was impossible to lie still knowing that everything depended on Rémy’s planning and there being no setbacks at the last moment.
She had the terrifying feeling that quite unexpectedly Lord Orsett might well decide not to ride this morning or that, as Yvette would not accompany them, they would be delayed in leaving the house and the ship would sail before Rémy and Yvette could reach the quay.
There were hundreds of things that could happen and Kelda found it impossible to lie still. So she rose and dressed herself in the attractive thin riding habit that Yvette had lent her and put her hat, whip and gloves ready on the bed.
At six o’clock she went into Yvette’s room to find her, as she had expected, half-dressed.
“If I lie under the bedclothes when the maid comes in,” she explained, “she will not be aware of what I am wearing.”
“My maid usually knocks at my door first,” Kelda said, “so I could prevent yours from pulling back the curtains and tell her that you wish to go on sleeping.”
“Suppose they tell Uncle Maximus and he then decides not to go riding?”
“Yes, of course, you are right,” Kelda said. “We must behave quite normally. You just feel sleepy and let her put out your things for you as usual.”
As soon as she spoke, she gave a cry of horror.
“I had forgotten your wardrobe is empty! Oh, Yvette, we must think of everything. If we make a mistake now, we are lost.”
“I have already thought of that,” Yvette said, “and as you see my riding habit is on the chair and I have put what I shall wear in the wardrobe and locked the door to be quite certain she cannot open them.”
“You are cleverer than I am,” Kelda said humbly. “My only excuse is that I have not had so many clothes to worry about as you have had in the past.”
“You will be glad to know that I am leaving you still more,” Yvette said, “And after all you have done for me, when you join me in Paris, I will give you the most wonderful gowns any girl has ever possessed.”
“When do you think you will be in Paris?” Kelda enquired and Yvette, hearing the now serious tone of her voice, said,
“I know, dearest Kelda, that you are thinking that Uncle Maximus may send you back immediately to London in disgrace. Here is all the money I brought with me, which is enough to take you to Paris.”
She paused and went on,
“As Rémy suggested when you get there you must go to my aunt’s house and wait for me. I shall write to her, and post the letter the moment we arrive in Cape Town, to tell her what has happened. But here in the meantime is a note which will introduce you and say how important you are to me.”
“How can you think of me at a time like this?” Kelda asked her.
“Of course I think of you because I love you,” Yvette replied. “If it had not been for you and the clever way you have made me act a part in front of Uncle Maximus, I am sure by this time I should have been incarcerated in a dungeon or locked up in an attic where Rémy could not reach me.”
“I would not wish to be a – burden or a – nuisance to you,” Kelda admitted.
“You will never be that,” Yvette said. “Rémy and I will look after you and one thing I do promise, you will never go back to that horrible old dragon in the Seminary to be bullied as you were before we came here.”
The tears ran down Kelda’s cheeks as she kissed Yvette.
Then as if she realised that the only thing that mattered at the moment was for Yvette to be ready when Rémy came for her, they both took up what Kelda called their ‘battle stations’.
Everything went smoothly, the maid came into the room to pull the curtains and Yvette said in a sleepy voice,
“I will not get up for the moment. I will call you when I wish to do so.”
The maid left the room having put a tray containing coffee and a warm brioche beside the bed.
Kelda had the same and she carried her cup of coffee into Yvette’s bedroom.
“You had better eat something and drink your coffee,” she said, “otherwise you may feel faint.”
Yvette smiled.
“Not if I know I am going to see Rémy. In fact I already feel as if I have drunk a whole bottle of champagne and am floating towards the sky.”
“You may feel like that, but only when the ship has actually moved out of Port,” Kelda said.
She finished dressing, kissed Yvette fondly goodbye, then at exactly ten minutes to seven she walked from her bedroom and spoke to the maids who were waiting in the corridor.
“Mademoiselle is fatigued this morning,” she said, “and has decided not to go riding. But please listen for when she calls for you, she will require your assistance.”
She spoke slowly so that they would understand exactly what she wanted and then went downstairs.
She and Yvette had already carried the large bundles of clothes into her room and set them ready by the door and Yvette herself was dressed in her travelling gown, waiting for the moment when Lord Orsett and Kelda rode away from the front door.
This, Kelda knew, was the crucial few minutes when she must explain to Lord Orsett that his niece would not be joining them, but she herself would like to go riding.
She knew that he, like them, had only coffee in the morning before he went riding and yesterday they had all had breakfast on the terrace when they returned.
She had no idea where he might be, but, as she reached the hall, she saw with a feeling of relief through the open door the horses coming ro
und from the stables.
Then along the corridor that led to Lord Orsett’s private room she heard footsteps and a moment later he appeared.
If she had not been so agitated and her heart had not been beating so very frantically in her breast, she would have thought, as she had yesterday, that he looked exceedingly elegant in his riding clothes.
All she could think of, however, was the part she had to play and that one slip might ruin Yvette’s life.
“Good morning, Miss Lawrence,” Lord Orsett began.
She thought he sounded as if he was in a good temper, perhaps because Yvette had been so charming to the Governor-General last night and had not opposed his plans in any way.
“Good morning, my Lord,” Kelda replied, “but I am sorry to tell you that Yvette hopes you will excuse her from riding this morning.”
“She is not ill?”
“No, not ill but very tired and, as you had anticipated, somewhat stiff. She will join us for breakfast when we return unless, of course, you would rather I did not accompany you.”
She had a feeling that just because she had suggested that he should ride alone, he would take the opposite view.
“I see no reason why you should be deprived of your exercise,” Lord Orsett said almost immediately.
Kelda hoped the relief she felt did not show too obviously in her face.
“I would like to come because you promised to take us on a different ride from where we went yesterday and I hope that means I shall see some more wild animals.”
“We may see some,” Lord Orsett replied, “but I had intended this morning to show you both a bush village and one that I think you will find extremely interesting because it is where the natives dye the fabrics that you have already admired.”
“I would love that,” Kelda exclaimed. “Oh, please, let’s go there.”
Lord Orsett smiled and she thought that he was amused by her enthusiasm.
It was still not seven o’clock when they walked down the steps and mounted the horses waiting for them outside.
Kelda was sure that somewhere hidden amongst the massive shrubs and trees Rémy was watching them go and she wished that she could wave to him and somehow express her joy that his plan was succeeding.
Instead she merely rode off as quickly as she dared and they were soon out of sight of the house.
It was a glorious morning and the wind from the sea fanned Kelda’s cheeks as they rode over the sandy soil.
She tried not to think of what was happening once they had left and forced herself when they were moving a little slower to draw out Lord Orsett on the subject in which he was most interested, which was of course, Africa and his book.
She found that this was not difficult and she started off by saying,
“I was thinking last night of the magic that everybody seems to associate with Africa. Have you found much of it in your researches, my Lord?”
“Naturally in primitive peoples superstitions and what they call ‘magic’ play a large part in their lives,” Lord Orsett replied, “but after I had gone to bed, I remembered the incantation that I thought would interest you.”
“Do recite it to me,” Kelda urged him.
“An Ibo diviner, for example, invokes the truth before consulting his bones,” Lord Orsett explained, “and this one I think is a particularly fine poetical effort.”
He raised his chin a little as if he was looking at the unknown as he recited,
“What will it be today?
Success or failure? Death or life?
What is the evil spirit that throws his shade?
Between me and the truth?”
“I like that!” Kelda exclaimed.
She felt somehow it was particularly applicable to what was happening at this moment and wondering if in some perceptive way Lord Orsett, although he was not aware of it, had sensed that something strange was afoot.
“At the end of this incantation,” he said, “there are two lines that I think are particularly inspiring,
“Here the sun rises
See the truth come riding on the rays of the sun.”
“That is lovely,” Kelda agreed.
There was silence for a moment.
And then she said,
“I shall look forward to reading your book, my Lord.”
“The first volume is practically finished.”
Kelda looked at him questioningly and there was a faint smile on his lips as he said,
“If you would not find it too difficult to read from the manuscript, then I will give it to you.”
“I would love to,” Kelda said sincerely.
Then she remembered that once they returned to the house there would be no question of her reading his manuscript or in fact of being there longer than it took to pack her possessions and be sent away on the first available ship.
The idea was depressing because in the short time that she had been in Dakar she had seen so little of the countryside and its people.
Thinking about how much she would miss, she rode in silence and was therefore startled when Lord Orsett asked,
“What is worrying you?”
Kelda looked at him in surprise.
“H-how do you know I am – worried?”
“I am not quite as obtuse and insensitive as you appear to think I am.”
For one terrifying moment Kelda felt that he was going to say he had known all along of their plans for Yvette to escape and she was at this moment locked in her bedroom with no chance of reaching Rémy.
Instead he went on,
“I think you are an unusually sensitive person, Miss Lawrence. Sensitive people throw out an inescapable aura that can be picked up by those who are attuned to it. I know therefore that something is disturbing you.”
“If it is,” Kelda replied, “it is not worth thinking about in such beautiful surroundings.”
She forged ahead as she spoke and exclaimed,
“Look, I am sure that there is the bush village, I can see the pointed tops of the roofs.”
“You are quite right,” Lord Orsett agreed. “Equally I hope that you will tell me of your trouble or worries, whatever they may be, on the way home.”
Because Kelda found so many fascinating things to see in the village and, as she dreaded the revelations that were waiting for Lord Orsett when they returned, she managed to spend a long time not only inspecting the dyeing of the fabrics but also hearing some local music.
A tall, broad-shouldered young man played for her and Lord Orsett a Cora, the large and round calabash acting as sounding board with strings made with twisted nerve-fibres.
It made a clear rather subtle sound, which Kelda knew could make a perfect background for the chants or as part of the orchestra for dancers.
“The next thing that you and Yvette must see,” Lord Orsett said as they rode back, “is the dancing. In Senegal to dance expresses every aspect of life and the dancers wear round their ankles little bells or tiny rattles made of millet seeds and wrapped in leaves.”
“It all sounds fascinating.”
She could not prevent her voice from sounding wistful, because she knew that she would leave Dakar without having seen the dancers and they would be only something to imagine in the future, just as in the past years she had had to imagine everything that was beautiful.
Because she thought she would be seeing it all for the last time, she looked around her as they rode home trying to miss nothing of the trees, the flowers, the fruit, the animals or the people themselves.
Plodding between the villages were the women carrying large bundles on their heads and there were men working in the fields using wooden implements that Kelda was certain went back into antiquity.
Then at last there was the sea and silhouetted against the sky the roof of Lord Orsett’s house.
Now Kelda’s heart began to beat agonisingly. Her lips felt very dry and it was difficult to respond to anything that Lord Orsett said to her.
Two grooms w
ere waiting outside the front door and they went to the heads of the horses as Lord Orsett dismounted and then moved towards Kelda to help her to the ground.
She had already lifted her leg from the pommel and slipped down wishing, as she walked up the steps, that the ground would open and swallow her up.
In the hall she saw waiting beside the servants the elderly man who had met them at the ship on their arrival.
“Good morning, Bonnier,” Lord Orsett said.
Kelda had the idea that there was a slight air of surprise in his voice that he was there.
“I have to inform your Lordship,” Monsieur Bonnier said, “that soon after you had left a carriage arrived from The Palace with a message from His Excellency informing us that one of Mademoiselle’s relatives is seriously ill in Paris and that she must leave at once on a ship that was sailing from Dakar this morning at seven-thirty.”
As Monsieur Bonnier began to speak, Lord Orsett had stood listening to him and, almost as if she had been ordered to do so, Kelda listened too unable to move away.
“Mademoiselle caught the ship?” Lord Orsett asked after a pause.
“I understand so, my Lord. She had already left the house when I was informed of what had happened.”
“Who came from The Palace to collect her?”
Kelda drew in her breath.
“I don’t know his name, my Lord,” Monsieur Bonnier replied, “but he was a young man and I think he is one of the Equerries in attendance upon His Excellency.”
Lord Orsett’s lips tightened and now for the first time since Monsieur Bonnier had begun to speak he looked at Kelda.
“I wish to speak to you, Miss Lawrence,” he said and there was a note in his voice that made her shiver.
He walked across the hall and she meekly followed him.
He opened the door of the room that they had been shown when they first arrived.
She followed him into it, the door was closed behind her and he turned round to face her.
“You were aware that this would happen,” he said sharply. “I require an explanation.”
Women have Hearts Page 11