Seeking Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “And what do you think that was, miss? From where I’m standing, he led an innocent girl on to believe that he was in love with her. So what part could you possibly have played in the face of such expert seduction?”

  “I believed him, Ellen.”

  Ellen felt a surge of tenderness. She looked up at her with such pain in her eyes – eyes that reminded her of Marina’s mother and it made her want to hug her.

  She flung her arms around Marina and embraced her, as a mother would.

  “I am so frightened, Ellen,” she confessed, as the tears unexpectedly began to flow. “I am so innocent of the ways of men and I feel foolish for having believed that Simon harboured feelings for me.”

  “You should not blame yourself, miss. He is a very clever man. His sort likes to prey on innocent young things like yourself and it is he who is at fault, not you.”

  *

  Later that day, Ellen and Marina took a turn around the Tuilleries once more and treated themselves to coffee and cakes in a pretty little café that they found in a street behind the Place de la Concorde.

  As she tucked into warm madeleines, Ellen asked Marina if she had come to a decision about Sir Peter.

  “I am in two minds what to do,” she answered, wetting her finger and picking up the last few crumbs. “We have to find the Solanges eventually and although Papa has made more money available to me, the hotel is too expensive to stay in forever. If we are to remain in Paris and the Solanges do not reappear, we shall have to find alternative accommodation.”

  “Oh, I should not like that very much, miss,” replied Ellen candidly.

  “And I would rather stay with people we know. No, Ellen, I do not think we have an alternative. I have made the decision to allow Sir Peter to take us to Biarritz.”

  “I think it is a wise one, miss,” answered Ellen, patting her Mistress’s hand. “I always feel happier when there is a gentleman around.”

  “We should be making our way back to the hotel to see if Sir Peter has returned,” said Marina, calling for the bill.

  Arriving at the hotel, she enquired if Sir Peter had returned. The desk clerk solemnly shook his head and offered to give him a message as soon as he did. Marina took off her white, leather gloves and quickly wrote a few lines on a piece of hotel notepaper and gave it to the clerk.

  “We shall just have to go back upstairs and wait,”

  announced Marina.

  The long hours ticked by and Marina tried to read to help the time pass.

  “I do hope he will not have changed his mind,” said Marina, as the clock struck four.

  “He strikes me as a man of his word,” responded Ellen, “and if he is not, then it is best that we find that out now, rather than when we are in Biarritz.”

  At last, there came a knock on the door. Even though she had been anticipating it, Marina jumped when it came.

  “You may open it, Ellen,” said Marina, in a calm tone that belied her nervous state of mind.

  “It’s Sir Peter, miss.”

  “I received your note,” he said, slightly out of breath, “and I came at once.”

  “Is there any news of the Solanges?”

  “Yes, I do believe there is.”

  Marina signalled for him to sit down and asked Ellen to fetch some tea.

  “So,” began Marina, “what have you discovered?”

  “I met a wine merchant today who has connections in Biarritz and he has given me the address of Monsieur Solange’s wine merchant. Once we are there, it should not be too difficult to locate him and to find out where they live.”

  “But would he simply hand over the address of Monsieur Solange?”

  “Marina, I am very well known in wine circles. One look at my card should be enough to convince him to tell me what I need to know.”

  Marina looked thoughtful for a second. She could see that Sir Peter was regarding her expectantly and she knew that he was waiting for her to tell him what decision she had come to about going to Biarritz.

  “In that case, I should very much like to take up your kind offer of accompanying us to Biarritz. It is a case of either finding an apartment in Paris or attempting to locate the Solanges with your help and I have decided that the most sensible option is to do the latter.”

  “Wonderful,” enthused Sir Peter, standing up and nearly knocking Ellen flying, as she returned with a tray of tea.

  “Careful, sir,” she admonished, handing him a bone- china cup and saucer.

  Sir Peter blushed and took the cup. Marina thought how charming he looked with his pink cheeks – rather like a small boy who had been told off by his nanny.

  “I shall find out the train times to Biarritz and when would you care to leave?”

  “As soon as possible,” replied Marina.

  “Biarritz is a very fashionable place. I am certain we shall find them.”

  “Good, then here’s to success,” toasted Marina, raising her teacup aloft.

  The way Sir Peter looked back at her, so intensely and meaningfully, made her stomach turn over. She wondered if something would happen during their trip and she found that thought both unnerving and exciting.

  *

  Marina had chosen a bad time to leave for Biarritz as Sir Peter found that all the trains the next day and the day after were fully booked.

  It was a few days later when Ellen finally packed their bags for departure.

  Sir Peter was already waiting for them downstairs with just one small suitcase. Marina looked at it aghast.

  “I travel light,” explained Sir Peter smiling broadly.

  “I wish I knew how to,” commented Marina, indicating her tall pile of trunks and cases with which the porters were struggling.

  Sir Peter had been kind enough to buy a first-class ticket for Ellen, so that she did not have to sit on her own. Marina thanked him profusely.

  “There is really no need,” he protested, “after all, you could not travel with me without a chaperone.”

  “That is true,” admitted Marina, who thought that she really would not have minded the opportunity to spend some time alone again with him, “and Ellen can be such a stickler for convention.”

  “How long will the journey take?” asked Marina, gazing out of the window.

  “We shall not be there until quite late this evening. I believe the journey takes eight hours.”

  “I hope we are going to stop for luncheon.”

  “There is a very good dining car on the train, Marina, and I do hope you will join me.”

  “Of course,” agreed Marina enthusiastically.

  “I won’t be eating no French train food,” chimed in Ellen. “I have brought my own lunch from the hotel kitchen. One of the girls there, who spoke English, has made me some steak sandwiches.”

  Marina could not help but burst out laughing. It was so typical of Ellen!

  Over lunch, Sir Peter asked Marina about the Solanges.

  “What are they like? You have not really told me anything about them.”

  “They are friends of Papa,” she answered, a little reluctantly as she did not want to get on to the topic of Simon Solange, “and very charming. They have a daughter and a son. Monique is a very sweet girl and we have become good friends. She must be wondering why I have not replied to any of her letters –”

  Marina trailed off. “And the son?”

  Sir Peter was not about to let her off the hook.

  “Simon is slightly older than Monique and something of a buccaneer, so I did not socialise much with him,” she answered a little curtly.

  They both fell silent as the soup arrived – it was a delicious cream of asparagus and the waiter assured Sir Peter that the asparagus was the last of the English crop.

  “I do so love asparagus, but the white stuff you get on the Continent is so tasteless,” he mused, finishing off his bowl in a trice.

  “I must confess that I did not know what it was at first,” admitted Marina, “I had never seen such a strange, a
naemic-looking vegetable before!”

  They both looked at each other and began to laugh. Marina felt a warm glow inside. Sir Peter was so easy to get along with and she felt far less awkward in his presence than she did in Simon’s.

  ‘He hurt me more than I realised,’ thought Marina, sadly, as their poularde a la crème was served.

  *

  The journey South was long and Marina was very tired by the time the train pulled into Biarritz.

  “I have been recommended a small, but exclusive, family-run hotel,” said Sir Peter, as the friendly porter hailed them a carriage.

  “Will we be able to find a room at this late hour?”

  asked Marina shivering.

  “I am assured that Madame Boucheron keeps late hours and that her doors are always open,” answered Sir Peter reassuringly. “Apparently, although she can appear stern, she is rather fond of the British.”

  As Sir Peter predicted, Madame Boucheron was indeed still up and furthermore, she welcomed them with gusto.

  “I am so ’appy to see you,” she greeted them, in her heavily accented, throaty voice. “You will forgive that my English is not good but, as long as you follow my rules, we will get along, n’est-ce pas?”

  She gave Marina an intense glare and looked her up and down. She felt quite nervous and tiptoed behind the fierce-looking woman as she ushered them in.

  Sir Peter spoke to her in fluent French and, in no time, charmed her into giving them three of her best rooms.

  Marina admired his easy way with the language and how confident he appeared when speaking it.

  ‘He is almost more confident conversing in French than he is in his own language,’ she marvelled as Madame Boucheron’s demeanour changed from stern and unforgiving to almost coquettish. She patted her tightly coiled black hair and her piercing black eyes softened a little.

  The rooms were small but elegantly furnished. Marina was placed next to Ellen, who was delighted to be occupying a room of her own. Marina noticed that Sir Peter was shown to the floor above them.

  “Well, I’ve met some hard women in my time, but she is the dragon to end all dragons!” said Ellen, as she put her head around Marina’s door. “Is there anything you wish me to do for you, miss, before I turn in?”

  “No, I will be perfectly fine, thank you,” said Marina. The next morning, Madame Boucheron had prepared a huge breakfast for them, even before they had sat down to table.

  “So, you are on ’oliday?” she asked, heaping slices of bacon onto Sir Peter’s plate.

  “Not really. We are looking for some friends of ours – perhaps you know of them – a Monsieur and Madame Solange?”

  “Ah, Solange, Solange –“ she muttered, “there is a son, n’est-ce pas? A terrible boy. A friend of mine told me that he has scandalised the whole of Biarritz with his, ’ow you say, behaviour.”

  Sir Peter cast a worried look at Marina who had suddenly lost interest in her plate of eggs and bacon.

  “Yes,” continued Madame Boucheron, “the boy ’as ’ad to come to Biarritz to escape ’is angry women! Promised to marry two girls and then ran off leaving them. Cochon!” she spat, “and now, ’e parade ’is new Italian fiancée along ze promenade!”

  She banged down the pan and plonked herself down on a stool.

  Marina could not help herself. The tears began to flow down her cheeks and plopped into her breakfast.

  “Come along, miss,” entreated Ellen, who had finished her meal already. “Come upstairs with me.”

  She quickly ushered the weeping Marina out of the room, leaving Sir Peter looking shocked.

  “What ’as come over the girl?” asked Madame Boucheron.

  “She has recently lost her Mama,” answered Sir Peter, who was utterly bewildered by the scene he had just witnessed.

  Sir Peter finished his breakfast in silence. He did not know what to think, but Marina’s behaviour had left him with a distinctly uneasy feeling – Marina was inconsolable as she wept in her room. Ellen sat on the bed next to her prostrate Mistress and stroked her hair.

  “There, there, Miss Marina, don’t upset yourself. I thought you didn’t care for Simon Solange?”

  “Oh, Ellen. I am so confused. I did not think I cared about him either, but when Madame Boucheron told those stories about him, it made me feel even more foolish for believing he had feelings for me.”

  “My dear, you are young and innocent. You are not to be blamed for believing the false words of men,” soothed Ellen. “You have learned the hard way that not all gentlemen are as honest as they appear. You are young and beautiful and there are unscrupulous men out there who would woo you just to possess that beauty.”

  “I do not think I understand,” mumbled Marina sitting up and drying her eyes. “Why would a gentleman do that?”

  “Just as some desire money and power, others desire to own lovely things and that sometimes includes women!”

  “But what of love? Romance?”

  “My dear Marina, men are not the same as us. There are some who prize these things, but if you ever find a man who does, then cling on to him for dear life, for he is rare indeed.”

  ‘I wonder, could Sir Peter be such a man?’ thought Marina, as Ellen gave her a hug.

  After a while, she composed herself. Sir Peter would be wondering what had happened to her.

  ‘I have to find the Solanges – now more than ever I want to discover the truth behind Simon’s behaviour towards me,’ she resolved as she splashed her face with cold water and prepared to go downstairs and make her explanations to Sir Peter.

  ‘He will think me very rude,’ she said to herself as she tidied her hair.

  “Shall I come with you, miss?” asked Ellen as they left the room.

  “No, Ellen. I shall deal with this matter myself. You go back to your room and I will come and fetch you later.”

  Marina hurried down the narrow stairs and was relieved to see the outline of Sir Peter’s broad shoulders through the glass of the dining room door.

  Composing herself, she took a deep breath and entered.

  “Marina. Are you all right?” demanded Sir Peter, whirling round to greet her. “I have been so worried –”

  “You must forgive me, but I was temporarily overcome. The travelling has tired me. I am not used to it.”

  “Quite so,” answered Sir Peter, but Marina detected a hint of distance in his tone as if he had divined the real reason for her sudden exit.

  “When shall we begin our search for the Solanges?”

  she asked in an attempt to change the subject.

  “Madame Boucheron tells me that there is a very fashionable restaurant near the quay where the rich gather to take luncheon. I would suggest that we do likewise. She thinks that a family who sound like the Solanges often lunch there. If we do not find them there, we can try the wine merchant who is supposed to supply them.”

  What Sir Peter did not tell her was that Madame Boucheron had said that the Solange boy often flaunted his Italian fiancée there, further scandalising the assembled Biarritz Society.

  “Perhaps you would like to walk around the town this morning to get your bearings?” he suggested, as she stood there uncertain of what to say next. “So, shall we meet in the hall in say, fifteen minutes? Will that be sufficient for you and Ellen to make yourselves ready?”

  Marina nodded and left the room.

  ‘Why do I feel so apprehensive about seeing the Solanges again?’ she asked herself, as she walked back upstairs.

  ‘There was no agreement with Simon about our relationship and his two so-called fiancées at the same time would certainly explain his erratic behaviour with me. He must have thought me some silly little girl whom he could temporarily amuse himself with in between dallying with his two paramours.’

  Marina told Ellen to get ready and then returned to her room. It overlooked a row of fishermen’s cottages with the sea beyond.

  Biarritz had been the haunt of the rich and the nobility since
the middle of the century and Marina knew that Napoleon III had built a house here for the Empress Eugenie, but it had never forgotten its roots as a fishing village.

  The weather outside was fine and warm, so Marina simply tidied herself and made her way back downstairs.

  Ellen was already waiting for her, as was Sir Peter. Madame Boucheron looked her up and down as if appraising her, grunted and vanished into a cupboard under the stairs. A few moments later, she re-emerged with a white lace parasol.

  “Tenez,” she commanded, handing the delicate object to Marina. “You cannot promenade without this. The sun will burn you.”

  “Th-thank you,” stammered Marina, taken aback.

  “Do not forget that we are quite far South. Spain is just across the other side of the mountains,” chided Sir Peter.

  “I did not realise –“ answered Marina, feeling quite stupid. She really had no idea where Biarritz was apart from that it clearly was by the sea.

  They walked out into the brilliant sunshine and almost immediately, Marina was glad of the parasol to protect her from the fierce rays. It was so much warmer than anything she had experienced in London.

  They took a stroll along the promenade and nodded at the more obviously English visitors of which there seemed to be quite a few. Marina thought she recognised some friends of Henrietta, but as she had not been formally introduced to them, she did not linger and speak to them.

  At least twice, Sir Peter was stopped by people who declared themselves astonished to see him in Biarritz.

  “Of course we must not forget that we are here for a reason – and are not simply tourists enjoying the sights,” Sir Peter reminded her.

  Marina was not really listening to what he was saying. She was too busy thinking ahead in her mind of the time when they would find the Solanges.

  Knowing what she now did, she almost wished that they had not come.

  ‘But I do want to see Monique again and I have nothing against Monsieur and Madame Solange,’ she reminded herself, as Sir Peter led them down to La Grande Plage.

  Marina looked on in awe at the line of bathing machines that dotted the beach and shore line. How she envied the women in their swimsuits enjoying the sea. She had not swum in the sea since she was a child and in the heat of the morning she wished she could run down to the waves and dive in.