In Search of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “I must be dreaming,” she gasped. “I expect to wake up in a moment and find myself in my own bed. But, oh, I want the dream to go on forever!”

  With a sudden determined gesture, she removed her hat and pulled her hair down so that it flowed freely.

  “And I want you to have whatever you want,” Robert announced.

  He was looking at her, but she was not looking at him. She was facing out to sea in the direction they were heading, her hair, blown by the wind, streaming out behind her.

  She was no longer the sedate young lady he had always known. She might have modelled for the spirit of freedom – wild, uninhibited, eager for adventure.

  From where he was standing, he could study her profile, the clean line of her forehead and nose, the generous mouth and the chin that he had often thought a little too firm for a young lady.

  Now he realised how wrong he had been. What he saw in her face was strength and courage. How many women could boast these attributes or indeed her readiness to sally forth and challenge the world?

  Suddenly he realised that there was no companion he would rather have beside him than this woman.

  CHAPTER THREE

  At Calais they boarded the train for Paris and settled down comfortably in their seats.

  As Vanda pulled off her gloves something caught Robert's attention.

  “What is that on your left hand?”

  She held up her hand so that he could see the two rings, one of them a gold band and the other a sparkling diamond solitaire of obvious value.

  “These were my mother's,” she said.

  “But why are you wearing them? People will think we are married.”

  “Not us. Me. I was married and widowed. That will explain why there are different names on our passports, if anyone should notice.”

  “Ah, yes,” he said. “Now you mention it, we should have thought of that. When did you marry and how long have you been a widow?”

  “I haven't decided that yet.”

  “Then you must decide at once. It is essential for you to think yourself into your part until you believe every word of it. That's what a famous actress told me that she did and because she was such a huge success, I am sure she was right.”

  “I see,” Vanda said slowly. “A famous actress.

  Hmm.” Her smile was quizzical.

  “And I am not telling you who she was, so don't ask.”

  “But she was a huge success?”

  “I have already said so.”

  “You two were obviously very close,” Vanda said.

  “If we were, I should not tell you.”

  “Was she really exciting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she give you any other interesting lessons?”

  “Vanda, I am warning you –”

  “But you were the one who mentioned her,” she said with wide-eyed innocence. “I think it's splendid that you can be so honest about the women in your past –”

  “Who said she was in my past?” Robert parried before he could stop himself.

  “Really? You mean she – ?”

  “That's enough,” he said repressively. “Can we drop the subject now?”

  She glared at him.

  How satisfying, he thought, to have spiked her guns.

  It was late afternoon when they reached Paris and climbed out onto the platform, both slightly stiff after the long journey.

  “Perhaps we won't be able to find rooms in a hotel now that the Exposition has started,” Vanda said plaintively. “I suppose I should have thought about that problem.”

  “We will head straight for the most expensive hotel in Paris,” he replied. “That will be our best chance.”

  Luck was with them. They arrived at the Hotel du Mazarin in the Champs Elysee, just as a French nobleman was leaving early, having been summoned home for a family crisis. Robert swiftly booked his suite and within a few minutes they were installed on the first floor.

  When she and Jenny had finished her unpacking Vanda came to a decision, which she announced as soon as Robert came to her door.

  “I need a whole new wardrobe,” she proclaimed. “Immediately.”

  “What do you mean, immediately?” he asked in alarm.

  “I mean, let's go shopping right now.”

  “But the shops will be closing.”

  “Then we will have to hurry.”

  In what was left of the day, she managed to buy an elegant travelling dress and an evening gown that made her sigh with delight when she saw herself in it. It was a dramatic creation in dark red velvet, trimmed with silver that outlined her bosom and narrowed in tightly to her waist, before flaring out over her hips.

  She was a little concerned to discover how low it was cut in the front. But happily she remembered that she was a married woman, albeit a widowed one and she could therefore be more daring.

  When Robert collected her that evening, she felt satisfaction at seeing him stare at the picture she made.

  “Exactly how long have you been a widow?” he asked cautiously.

  “Two years,” she announced dramatically. “I have spent that time grieving in seclusion. But then you, like a good brother, told me I had mourned long enough.”

  “I did?”

  “Of course. You said you understood that poor Charlie had been the love of my life, but he would not want me to mourn for ever. You reminded me that I am still young and it was time for me to return to the world, to dance and sing again.”

  “Oh, really, Vanda!” Robert exclaimed in disgust. “I would never say anything so revolting.”

  “Well, you said something like it, I'm sure.”

  He covered his eyes with his hand.

  “Do you think my gown is suitable for an emerging widow?”

  “It is extremely revealing,” he replied slowly, trying not to feast his eyes on what it revealed. Vanda's bosom was creamily perfect and only perfection could have done justice to her gown.

  “I am not a young girl, but a woman of the world,” she asserted. “Poor, dear Charlie liked me to dress like this. Red was his favourite colour, you know, and he just adored me in diamonds.”

  She flicked her fingers in the direction of the diamond tiara on her head, from which danced two silvery feathers. More diamonds nestled about her neck.

  “Vanda for Heaven's sake!”

  “I am only doing what you told me, getting into the part.”

  “Well, if you want to play your part properly, do not give your husband a name like Charlie. It simply doesn't sound right.”

  “Hector,” she responded at once.

  “If you must.”

  “Dear Hector. He so loved me in red. He said to me, 'Vanda beloved, red for the setting sun and diamonds for the sparkle in your eyes.'”

  “I am going to be sick,” Robert declared with feeling.

  “You never understood poor Hector.”

  “Why the devil was he 'poor Hector'? Apart from the misfortune of being married to you?”

  She ignored this remark with dignity.

  “You did not appreciate him.”

  “Maybe not, but if that's how he talked to you, I am dashed glad he's dead!”

  “He used to say I was the star that guided his way, the sun that illuminated his path –”

  “No really, my dear girl! You are now overdoing it.”

  She burst out laughing. He joined in and together, in great good humour, they walked downstairs to dinner in the hotel restaurant.

  As they entered Robert was aware that heads turned to look at them. He was quite used to this reaction because of his title and importance in Society, but now he could sense something different. It was his companion who was attracting the attention.

  He had often seen her in a ballroom, but never before had he known her become the object of such admiration. He guessed it had something to do with the way she was dressed. An unmarried girl could never get away with red velvet. It was a gown for an experienced woman and it su
ited Vanda perfectly.

  'But of course,' he thought, 'she isn't a girl. She is a woman of twenty-four. Some would call her an old maid. But she is certainly not. She is simply magnificent!'

  “Tell me more about Hector?” he asked when they were seated and the waiter was pouring champagne.

  He made the request chiefly because he was delighted by her witty invention and wanted to hear what she would say next.

  “At first he loved me from afar,” Vanda told him. “We had to meet in secret.”

  “Why?”

  “You, of course. You were totally unreasonable. You disliked him and you opposed us at every step. Finally we ran away together. In revenge you withheld my fortune – ”

  “I am a real tyrant, aren't I?” he said affably.

  “A monster. I threw myself at your feet –”

  “How did you manage that if you had run away?”

  “I came back.”

  “Not a lot of point in going then.”

  “I came back when we were safely married.”

  “Just you? What about Hector? Wasn't he man enough to face my wrath?”

  “Hector was a poet.”

  “Oh, God!”

  Seeing that she had pushed him too far Vanda distracted his attention by saying,

  “This champagne is lovely.”

  He refilled her glass and watched the delicious enjoyment on her face.

  “Where was I?” she asked at last.

  “Throwing yourself at my feet.”

  “Ah, yes. I clasped my hands and implored you not to be so hard hearted.”

  “I hope I threw a vase of water over you.”

  “No, you succumbed to brotherly feeling.”

  “Oh, I did that, did I?”

  “Hector joined me –”

  “Once the danger was past.”

  “Once he was sure of being treated with the proper respect.”

  “It is no longer a mystery to me why your husband died,” Robert observed with a grin. “Obviously I murdered him in a moment of total exasperation!”

  “Let us drink to that,” Vanda said cheerfully.

  They clinked glasses.

  “The stage lost a fine actress in you,” he added. “Or do I mean a fine dramatist, since your powers of invention seem so considerable.”

  “Oh, I would have loved the theatre,” Vanda sighed. “Life is so dull at home. I hate being a sedate young lady.”

  “When were you ever sedate?” he could not resist asking.

  “Well, never really,” she mused, not in the least offended. “But on the outside I needed to pretend. I used to long for escape and I thought it would come in the form of a handsome Knight on a white charger.

  “But when I began to receive offers they were from men who were even duller than Papa. To have accepted any of them would have meant jumping out of the frying pan into the fire. Only it would not have been as exciting as a fire. More like a pool of tepid water.”

  “But surely,” said Robert, “some of them must have been amusing and intelligent?”

  “They didn't strike me that way. All they could think of was paying me compliments and trying to kiss me.”

  “Most women would consider such behaviour as being amusing and intelligent in a man,” he pointed out.

  “Then most women have a very narrow view of life,” she retorted firmly.

  That was true, he realised. It was beginning to dawn on him that Vanda's view of life was more wide-ranging than he had ever encountered in any other woman.

  “How did you feel about the men who tried to kiss you?”

  “I did not particularly want to kiss any of them either.”

  “Does that mean you never did kiss one of them?” he asked and was suddenly very interested in the answer.

  “Oh, I think there was one,” she mused. “Or maybe two or three. I cannot really remember.”

  “Cannot remember whether you kissed one man or many?” he echoed, aghast.

  “Does it matter? One man is very much like another in that situation, you know.”

  “No, I didn't know,” he replied, rather testily. “You must educate me in the matter.”

  “Well, they all say the same things – you are the girl of their dreams – how have they lived so long without you – they wake thinking of you and go to sleep thinking of you. You know the kind of patter.”

  Robert did indeed know the kind of patter, having uttered just such sentiments to his various lady loves. For the first time he wondered how the ladies had received these declarations. Had they secretly been laughing at him? Bored? Comparing him with other men?

  He felt himself grow hot and cold.

  “And then,” Vanda continued, “they clutch you too tight and breathe wine fumes all over you. Or cigar fumes, which are even worse!”

  “Of that I cannot approve,” he said. “To breathe fumes over a lady is ill-mannered.”

  “It is something you have never done, I am sure.”

  “Never. I would like to believe that no lady has been given cause to complain of my behaviour.”

  “What, never, in the course of a colourful career?”

  “My career has not been as colourful as all that,” he replied untruthfully. “You don't want to believe all the gossip you hear.”

  “Shame! The gossip about your exploits has been my favourite entertainment for years.”

  “There have been, I admit, one or two ladies in my life who I thought were very attractive. But somehow, sooner or later, they disappointed me. All I wanted to do was to leave them when I realised that what I was seeking from them was just not there.”

  “Yes,” she reflected. “That's how it is. You hope and hope, but that mysterious 'something' is always missing.”

  As she spoke she gave a little melancholy sigh and suddenly the atmosphere changed. Looking up, she met Robert's eye and they were no longer laughing.

  “You will find it one day,” he said gently. “But when you do, do not let him suspect that other men have kissed you. Every man wants the woman he marries to be his completely and not to bore him with tales of those who have been there before him.”

  “Bore him?” she pondered. “Yes, I see.”

  It crossed Robert's mind that the story of Vanda's romances would not be boring so much as infuriating, enraging, tormenting and agonising.

  After a moment, he said,

  “Forget it! Forget the past just as I am trying to do. Let us pretend that we have only just grown up and are stepping into a new world.

  “When we were children we had vague ideas of what the future would be. Like you, I was disappointed that it was not as thrilling and adventurous as I had hoped.”

  “That's true,” Vanda agreed. “I thought the great love of my life would appear at the first ball I attended.”

  He laughed.

  “I thought I would fall in love with someone so beautiful that every man would be jealous of me.”

  “And you were disappointed?”

  “Like you, I found that the members of the opposite sex were all much of a muchness. That is why I have never married. Perhaps we are asking too much. Perhaps we are too romantic or unrealistic and what we want simply isn't possible.”

  “But that is a doctrine of despair,” Vanda said. “What we are looking for is love, real true love that can thrive, even though not everyone finds it. Some people know love. Why shouldn't we?”

  “I do not know, except that some are luckier than others. And sometimes I feel that I am going to be one of the unlucky ones.”

  Vanda nodded.

  “Yes, I do know what you mean,” she murmured softly.

  He glanced up at her, smiling gently. Almost without realising what he was doing, he reached out and laid his hand over hers. She moved her fingers to clasp his and her smile was warm.

  “Robert, dear friend, what a pleasure to see you!”

  Vanda snatched her hand back and looked quickly over her shoulder to see who had spoken. S
he found herself looking at a tall, middle-aged man with grey hair and a ginger moustache. He was beaming with pleasure as he advanced on Robert, his hand outstretched in greeting.

  “Guilbert!” he said, rising and taking his hand.

  There was a flurry of greetings. The man was accompanied by a beautiful, elegant woman in her forties, who also greeted Robert as an old friend.

  “When we last met, you had not succeeded to your title,” remarked the man he had addressed as Guilbert. “But of course we heard the news that you were now Lord Cunningham.”

  Robert turned to Vanda.

  “My dear, I don't think you have met my friend, Count Guilbert de Fontellac and his charming wife. My friends, this is Madame Sudbury, my sister. One of my many sisters I should say.”

  “But who has not heard of the fascinating Cunningham girls?” the Count replied gallantly. “How delightful to meet one of them at last.”

  He bowed low over her hand, before introducing Vanda to his wife.

  There was one introduction left to be made. Behind him stood a man of about thirty with dark Latin good looks.

  “My good friend from Italy, Piero Farnese,” Guilbert said. “He is visiting us.”

  Piero greeted Robert with perfect courtesy, but his attention was all for Vanda. His large, chocolate brown eyes seemed to burn into hers.

  The two parties joined up and arranged themselves around the table. The Count called for more champagne.

  Piero made sure of securing a seat beside Vanda and the Countess, Vanda was amused to note, made sure of sitting next to Robert.

  “Will your husband be joining us, Signora?” Piero asked.

  “Alas, monsieur, my husband is no longer with us,” she declared, sadly lowering her eyes.

  “An infinite tragedy,” he said at once. “Has he been dead for long?”

  “For almost two years. I have spent that time in mourning and would have remained in seclusion but for my brother, who insisted that it was time for me to emerge once more into the world.”

  “Then your brother has been the benefactor of all men, Signora, for he has allowed your beauty to shine upon us again.”

  “You are too kind,” she responded modestly. “I was afraid, you see, that it was improper for me, a widow, to appear in Society, no longer wearing black.”