Fragrant Flower

by Barbara Cartland

“Because literally nothing is known about the bases of the pirates who prey on Hong Kong, nor of those who finance them, although we imagine the source is again Canton.”

  “Surely the Navy can do something?”

  “We have gunboats patrolling the harbour and the coastline, and we have set up a special piracy court and prohibited arms and munitions on Chinese junks.”

  “But it is ineffective!” Lady Osmund snapped.

  “Piracy is less of a menace than robberies and burglaries by armed gangs.”

  “Armed?” Lady Osmund’s exclamation was a shriek.

  “It is undoubtedly the Governor’s weak policy which encourages them!”

  “Then you must challenge it!”

  “That is exactly what I intend to do,” the General replied grimly.

  “Well, until you can do so, I will not set foot on Hong Kong!”

  It took great efforts on the part of the General to calm his wife down.

  She reiterated over and over again that she was now afraid of going to Hong Kong!

  Azalea felt with a sinking of her heart that, if Lady Osmund persisted in her attitude, not only would she and the twins not sail on the Orissa but Azalea herself would also be left behind with them in England.

  Fortunately the importance of the General’s position in Hong Kong overcame Lady Osmund’s fears, and finally she agreed with a somewhat exaggerated show of reluctance to proceed with their plans.

  Azalea, as it happened, had read about the arsenic plot and she could understand the horror the Europeans in Hong Kong had felt when one January morning at every breakfast table there arose the simultaneous cry of “poison in the bread!”

  There was a report of the occurrence in the General’s file from which she had learnt that Doctors, themselves in pain, scurried from house to house and “emetics were in urgent request by every family.”

  But Azalea was not only concerned with European and military difficulties in Hong Kong.

  Ever since she was a child she had been fascinated by thoughts of the huge expanse of China about which there was so much mystery and speculation.

  She knew from what her mother had told her that the Chinese were great craftsmen, and Azalea had also learnt a little about the Confucian religion from her.

  Her grandfather had been a writer on philosophical subjects which had inevitably led him to study the religions of the Orient.

  His home was in the South of Russia where both the climate and the people were warm and friendly, but he had journeyed to India when he was a comparatively young man because he was interested in Hinduism and especially in Yoga.

  Once there he had settled in the foothills of the Himalayas where he had furthered both his studies and his writing.

  It was on a visit to Lahore that Ivan Kharkov had met the daughter of a Russian Envoy to India.

  He fell wildly, passionately in love, and after they were married and because they both adored India, they decided to make it their home.

  Azalea’s mother, Feodorovna, who was their only child, was beautiful, graceful and clever – as might have been expected with such unusually intelligent parents.

  It was her beauty that had attracted Derek Osmund to her first, when he was spending his leave from the Army on a shooting expedition. He used to say to Azalea,

  “The moment I saw your mother I fell in love with her. She was the most beautiful and graceful creature I had ever seen in my whole life!”

  Later Azalea learnt how he loved his wife’s mind, her understanding and her sympathy, and even her strange emotional mysticism.

  It was difficult for any European to understand the spiritual yearnings which motivated her, but she was extremely happy with Derek Osmund, and looking back, Azalea could never remember hearing her father and mother quarrel.

  ‘They both loved people, they both wanted to bring happiness to the world in which they lived,’ she would think to herself when she was alone.

  It was her mother who had taught her to see beauty not only in the flowers, the birds and the snow-capped mountain peaks, but also in the colourful Bazaars, the moving kaleidoscope of people from all parts of India and in the faith of those who bathed in the River Ganges.

  ‘Everywhere Mama found beauty!’ Azalea would often think.

  Then she would try not to hate the coldness of the house where she lived with her uncle and aunt, the harshness of their voices, their expressions of anger, the manner in which they looked at her.

  It was all so ugly, but she tried, although always in vain, to find, as she was certain her mother would have done, some beauty even in her uncle’s pomposity, or her aunt’s spiteful and unnecessary fault-finding.

  Deep in her memory was the time when her mother had talked to her of the beauty of jade which had been carved by the Chinese for thousands of years, and of their paintings which were more artistic and more perceptive than those done by any other artists in the world.

  She also told Azalea that the Chinese had an ingrained sense of honour and a scrupulous honesty, which was part of their character. Yet this seemed very much at variance with what her uncle had to say about the Chinese in Hong Kong.

  ‘It will be so wonderful to see for myself!’Azalea thought.

  And yet the fear persisted in her mind that some catastrophe, some change of mind on her aunt’s part, or perhaps an order from the War Office would at the very last moment prevent them from leaving.

  The General sailed two days before them on a troop ship which carried reinforcements to the Colony.

  Even then, Azalea was half-afraid that illness or an accident would prevent them from reaching Tilbury, but her fears were groundless!

  As they stepped out of the train to see the ship waiting for them at the quayside she felt her heart begin to beat with an excitement she had not known since she had left India.

  Lady Osmund had been even more than usually disagreeable the last two days before they sailed, and it seemed to Azalea as if she could do nothing right.

  Trunks that were packed had to be unpacked. Things which Lady Osmund had said were to be left behind were suddenly required to be taken with them, and the choice of clothes in which the twins were to travel was changed a dozen times.

  Gowns arrived from the dressmaker at the very last moment, a sunshade that was lost turned up in the kitchen, although no one could explain how it could have got there.

  When finally they drove away from Battlesdon House Azalea felt so tired that she was afraid she would fall asleep before they reached the railway station.

  Her aunt settled down to ask about dozens upon dozens of articles that had been packed, but which she was certain had been forgotten.

  Fortunately Azalea had a good memory.

  “In the round-topped trunk, Aunt Emily,” she murmured.

  “In the square leather case.”

  “In the tin trunk!”

  “In the valise!”

  She had the answer to every question, and finally her aunt lapsed into silence. The twins said nothing, although occasionally they giggled with each other.

  They were pretty girls, almost identical in appearance, and with their fair hair, blue eyes and pink-and-white skin were the perfect example of the ideal English débutante.

  On the other hand – although, mercifully, not everyone noticed it – they were extremely stupid.

  They seemed to be interested in nothing except each other. Even the young men whom Lady Osmund forced upon them, provided they were distinguished enough, evoked little more than monosyllabic replies and an endless succession of girlish giggles.

  Azalea had heard one lady who was supposedly a friend of Lady Osmund’s say scathingly,

  “They have two bodies with only one mind between them – and a very tiny one at that!”

  It was, Azalea had to admit, a more or less truthful comment, and yet she liked her cousins and they had never been anything but pleasant to her.

  Dressed in new and very elegant travelling gowns of rose-pin
k, their close-fitting jackets trimmed with fur, and their bonnets tied under their chins with satin ribbons, they looked very attractive.

  Azalea was well aware of the contrast of her own appearance.

  There had been nothing that had once belonged to the twins suitable for her to travel in, and – determined to economise where her niece was concerned – Lady Osmund had presented her with a travelling gown and jacket of her own which had proved an unfortunate purchase.

  Dark chocolate brown, it had been badly altered by the seamstress who came to the house and, although Azalea had tried with her own skilful fingers to make the gown fit better, nothing could change its unbecoming colour.

  It made her skin look sallow and seemed to envelop her with a kind of inexpressible gloom.

  “I hate it!” she told herself when she saw it lying on her bed ready for her to put on for the journey. “It is ugly!”

  She had at that moment a sudden longing for beautiful clothes, for the brilliant colours, the soft silks and transparent gauzes which her mother had worn.

  They had made her skin glow like ivory and her hair hold purple and blue lights which at night seemed part of the moonlight.

  But there was for Azalea only the brown dress, or else to board the ship in the March wind and rain wearing one of the thin, faded gowns which had been handed down to her by Violet or Daisy.

  ‘No one will look at me anyway,’ Azalea told herself sensibly, ‘and besides, I shall be very busy.’

  That was to understate what she knew lay ahead of her. Lady Osmund made it quite clear that, if she was to enjoy the privilege of travelling with them, she would act as lady’s maid to all three.

  “I would have taken a cabin on the Second Class deck for you,” she said to Azalea, “but that might make it difficult for you to spend your time with us. Therefore you are very fortunate, and you should be very grateful for being allowed to travel First Class.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Emily,” Azalea said, knowing the reply was expected of her.

  She was not, however, inclined to be so grateful when she saw her cabin.

  Lady Osmund and the twins had outside cabins on the First Class deck. They were spacious and light and were furnished in a manner which justified the P. & O.’s eulogising about them.

  Azalea’s cabin had no porthole and was so small as to have been, she was quite certain, intended only for a servant or perhaps when the ship was not full, for a store-room.

  But, she told herself quietly, what did it matter as long as the ugly, square-prowed Orissa, with its two slightly leaning funnels which gave it a vacuous look, would carry her to Hong Kong. She was well aware that the shipping lines were intensely proud of their ships and advertised them extravagantly.

  Her uncle had left a brochure lying on his desk, and reading it, Azalea had learnt that the engines were “so smooth it was difficult to believe the ship was moving at all.”

  There was an organ, a picture gallery, and a Library which contained over three hundred books!

  This, Azalea told herself, was the first place she would visit as soon as she had an opportunity.

  Lady Osmund swept up the gangway of the Orissa rather as if she herself were a ship in full sail.

  She told the Purser condescendingly that she was prepared to look at the State Rooms that had been allotted to her and hoped that they would be to her satisfaction.

  She then asked if Lord Sheldon was on board, and was annoyed to find that he had not yet arrived.

  “The Commander-in-Chief himself has requested his Lordship to look after us,” she told the Purser. “Kindly ask his Lordship to notify me as soon as he comes aboard.”

  “I’ll do that, my Lady,” the Purser replied.

  He went on to ask about Lady Osmund’s other requirements in such a mollifying and pleasant manner that her Ladyship finally condescended to accept the State Rooms without comment.

  As soon as the luggage was brought aboard, knowing what was expected of her, Azalea took off her jacket and bonnet and started to unpack.

  She arranged her aunt’s clothes first, hanging them neatly in the fitted wardrobe and placing her tortoiseshell toilet set with its golden initials on the built-in dressing table.

  This took her some time, and after she had called for a steward to remove the empty trunks, she began to unpack for the twins.

  They had gone on deck to see the ship sail, and soon there was the blowing of whistles, the clanging of gongs and the music of the Band vibrating above the ‘chug’ of the engines as the ship began to proceed slowly from the quay and out into the river.

  Azalea would have liked to go on deck too, but she told herself it would undoubtedly annoy her aunt and it would be best for her first to finish hanging up the twins’ evening gowns.

  “I shall have a chance to explore the ship later,” Azalea told herself and wondered what books would be available in the Library.

  She had scoured the General’s study at Battlesdon House before she left, and had discovered only one small volume on Chinese art written some years earlier.

  Greatly daring, she had packed it in her own trunk so that she would be able to read it while they were at sea.

  On the way back from India she had had a great deal of time on her hands during the twenty-four days’ journey. But she then had had nothing else to do but feel miserable and try to make herself realise that her father was dead, and that her home in the future must be with her uncle of whom she was afraid.

  Now she was quite certain that with three of them to look after she would be kept busy.

  At the same time she was going back to the sunshine, to the East which for her would always be home, and she knew there was so much for her to learn if she was to understand and appreciate Hong Kong.

  It was to be expected that Azalea should be very quick at learning languages.

  She had spoken Russian with her mother, and as a baby, she had been sung to sleep with Russian lullabies. She could both read and speak French. She had conversed with the Indian servants in Urdu since she could first talk.

  Her father had been criticised in the Regiment because he could speak to his sepoys and the coolies in their own language.

  “Let them learn English!” his fellow officers had said, but Derek Osmund had paid no attention. Besides, which was unusual in an Englishman, he positively enjoyed speaking languages other than his own.

  “I must learn Chinese,” Azalea told herself.

  But she was not quite certain how to go about it, and was sure that if her aunt heard of her intention, she would be forbidden to do anything of the sort.

  When Lady Osmund and the twins came to the cabin after Azalea had nearly finished emptying the very last trunk, they were obviously all in good humour.

  “It is a lovely ship, Azalea!” Violet exclaimed, “and there are lots of exciting people on board.”

  “I would not go so far as to say that,” Lady Osmund said reprovingly, “but Lord Sheldon is a passenger and you will both make yourselves very pleasant to him.”

  The twins giggled and Azalea turned her head aside in case her aunt should notice the colour rising in her cheeks.

  She had not faced asking herself how she would feel when she had to meet Lord Sheldon again.

  How could he have kissed her? And how, while he did so, had she stayed in his arms instead of fighting violently against him or screaming for help?

  He must have hypnotised her, she thought. Then she remembered that strange, sweet, unaccountable sensation that his kiss had evoked.

  She had only to think of it to remember the warm and wonderful feeling that had crept through her whole body until it seemed to end in her lips.

  “It was an illusion – part of my imagination!” she said to herself severely.

  Yet she knew that what she had felt had been an inexpressible rapture, and however severe she was with herself, however much she tried to deny it, she longed to feel the marvel of it again.

  ‘He is despicable, co
nceited, autocratic, and altogether abominable!’ she reiterated in her mind.

  Yet whatever his character, he had aroused a response in her that she could never forget. She tried to remember if in all her reading she had ever come across a description of anything so complex.

  How could one hate and despise a man, and yet be aroused by him in a manner that was so perfect that there was something spiritual as well as physical in its very wonder?

  ‘I am just ignorant and confused,’ Azalea told herself, and yet she was intelligent enough to know that was not the proper answer.

  “Dinner will be at seven o’clock,” Lady Osmund announced.

  The sharpness of her tone made Azalea jump, because her thoughts had been far away.

  “Am – am I to – dine with you, Aunt Emily?” she asked humbly.

  “I suppose so,” Lady Osmund replied grudgingly, “but I do not expect you to push yourself forward! Not that I imagine anyone will take much notice of you.”

  She paused and her eyes flickered over her niece unpleasantly.

  “After all, we cannot pretend you are not a relation, even though it is nothing of which we can be proud!” she said spitefully. “But poor relations are expected to be humble and subservient, so you will make no effort to join in the conversation and you will certainly not speak unless you are spoken to.”

  “I understand, Aunt Emily.”

  Feeling she must not show that she minded such admonition, Azalea went quietly from the cabin to start unpacking for herself.

  She had with her a much more varied wardrobe than she had ever owned before, since Violet and Daisy had been provided with what was a complete new trousseau.

  Therefore, contrary to what had happened in the past, the clothes Azalea had received from them were in good condition and comparatively new and fashionable.

  They were, however, too fancy and too be-frilled to be becoming to her slender figure. Although she contrived to remove some of the ruchings, fringes, braiding and bows, which she thought made them look like Christmas trees, there was nothing she could do about the pale colours which somehow looked wrong against the darkness of her hair.

  “But as Aunt Emily said,” Azalea told herself, “no one is going to look at me!”