Fragrant Flower

by Barbara Cartland

  “Tell me why. Tell me the truth, Azalea.”

  “I cannot. It is not my – secret.”

  “Secrets! Secrets!” Lord Sheldon cried with a note of anger in his voice. “You surround yourself with them, and yet I am convinced there is no necessity for them. No one’s eyes could be so innocent or so pure and hide anything of which they need feel ashamed.”

  Azalea gave a little sigh.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her round to face him.

  “Tell me what you are hiding. I have to know.”

  Azalea shook her head.

  “It is something I can never tell – anyone, least of all – YOU.”

  “Do you really think you can silence me with such a statement?” he asked. “I shall find out the truth, Azalea.”

  “No!” she cried, and twisting herself out of his hold she said violently, “Leave me alone! There is nothing you can find out – nothing you will learn. Nothing! Just go away and forget about me!”

  “And will you forget me?”

  She wanted to answer him defiantly but it was impossible. The words stuck in her throat. She knew she could never forget him.

  She knew that because he was so near her heart was beating suffocatingly in her breast and she was conscious of the weakness he always evoked in her. At the same time she had an inexpressible yearning to feel his lips once again on hers.

  She thought for one wild moment she might ask him to kiss her and then walk out of her life as he had walked into it.

  But she knew that if he put his arms round her she would cling to him, her whole body would respond to his and that wonderful magic would occur between them which would override all the wisdom and sense of her brain.

  “I want you I, I want you!” she longed to say.

  Then she knew that he would never understand how desperately he disturbed her – how every nerve in her whole body was tense because of him.

  Suddenly she gave a little cry.

  “I must go back! It is getting late! If they find I am not in the house when they return they will begin to ask questions.”

  Lord Sheldon drew his gold watch from his pocket and glanced at it.

  As if it told him there was no time for argument he said quietly

  “I will take you home.”

  “You cannot do that – ” Azalea began.

  “I will drop you near Flagstaff House, and you can walk up the drive. I think it unlikely that your aunt has left the Governor’s party so early, but one never knows!”

  “I must change,” Azalea cried.

  She hurried away through the garden, glad that her feet had not been bound like Mrs. Chang’s so that she could move quickly when it was necessary.

  Kai Yin Chang was waiting for her just inside the garden door.

  “You have happy talk?” she asked.

  “It is late!” Azalea replied. “I must change and hurry back. If my aunt finds I have been out she will be very angry.”

  “She not know where you go,” Mrs. Chang said comfortingly.

  In the bedroom Azalea slipped out of her beautiful pink tunic and put on her tight corset and elaborate underclothes which seemed in contrast very hot and restricting.

  “When you come again?” Kai Yin Chang asked.

  “As soon as I can.”

  Then Azalea gave a little cry.

  “What is it?” Mrs. Chang asked.

  “I have just remembered that tomorrow my uncle is taking my aunt and the twins to luncheon in Renown Bay. They will start early and as he has some troops to inspect over there they will not be home until late.”

  “Good news!” Mrs. Chang exclaimed. “You come here.”

  She thought for a moment and then she added,

  “Better idea! We go in Honourable husband’s junk so you see Bay! Very beautiful! We visit islands.”

  “Could we do that?” Azalea asked.

  She had already heard talk of the islands, how attractive they were, and she longed, too, to see the inside of a Chinese junk.

  She had learnt that the rich merchants had special, elaborate junks which they used for cruising, rather like gentlemen in England using private yachts.

  “You come here or go quay?” Mrs. Chang enquired.

  Azalea thought for a moment.

  Either way was dangerous and she knew she would not be expected to leave Flagstaff House alone in a rickshaw without an escort.

  If she said she had gone shopping it might be more excusable than if she said she had gone to the house of a Chinaman.

  “I will meet you at the quay.”

  “We look for you where big junks tied up.”

  By now Azalea was dressed in the pale-coloured cotton gown in which she had arrived.

  She put on her hat, then she kissed Kai Yin Chang’s soft cheek.

  “Thank you. You are so kind.”

  “You very gracious,” Mrs. Chang replied and Azalea knew she was touched at her show of affection.

  Lord Sheldon was waiting near the front door.

  Azalea thanked Mrs. Chang and climbed into the carriage that was waiting.

  The attendants wore the livery of Government House and the horses were splendidly equipped, but Azalea was conscious of nothing but that Lord Sheldon was sitting beside her.

  As the carriage started off he took her hand in his.

  “I intend to see you again, Azalea,” he said. “There is nothing you can say that will prevent me from doing so. It is best if you stop fighting me and let me cope with your uncle and aunt.”

  “No – please,” Azalea pleaded, “please do not say – anything to – them.”

  He did not answer, but she saw his chin square a little and his lips tighten and knew with a sense of despair that he had no intention of listening to her pleadings.

  “I will only consider doing what you ask,” he said after a moment, “if you will tell me what this momentous secret is that makes you quite sure I am not even an acceptable acquaintance where you are concerned.”

  “I want to tell you,” Azalea replied, “I want to do what you ask of me, but I cannot! It is impossible! There is really – nothing therefore we can – say to each other.”

  “Do you imagine I will accept that?” Lord Sheldon asked.

  “But you must!” Azalea said. “And besides – ”

  Because she was feeling so positive her fingers had tightened on his, then suddenly what she was about to say died on her lips.

  “There is no besides,” Lord Sheldon interposed, “there is only us, Azalea – you and I. And you know as well as I do we have so much to learn about each other, so much to discover, and it cannot be done in the few snatched moments while we are watching the clock.”

  Even as he spoke the horses which had been going downhill were drawn to a standstill and Azalea recognised the outer wall of Flagstaff House. Fifty yards below them was the entrance to the drive.

  As the footman began to get down from the box Lord Sheldon raised her hand to his lips.

  “We shall meet again, Azalea,” he said quietly. “Leave everything to me.”

  Because she had dressed in such a hurry Azalea had omitted to put on her gloves, and now she felt his lips warm and insistent against the softness of her skin.

  She felt a little quiver of delight surge through her body, and then the footman had opened the door of the carriage and she was obliged to step out.

  There was so much she wanted to say to Lord Sheldon and yet she did not know what it was. She only knew it was difficult to leave him.

  She still wanted to plead with him to go away – and yet she wanted him to stay.

  He did not alight with her but merely raised his hat, and as the footman clambered up onto the box the carriage moved off.

  Azalea watched it until it was out of sight.

  As she started to walk down the incline towards the gate of Flagstaff House, she knew that she loved him.

  Azalea awoke the following morning with a feeling of irresisti
ble excitement.

  She had not been mistaken in thinking that her aunt and the twins would be leaving early with the General. Breakfast had been ordered at seven-thirty, and before nine o’clock they had driven away from the house escorted by four soldiers on horseback and with another carriage following them containing two Staff Officers and the Aides-de-Camp.

  Lady Osmund had in fact returned from the Governor’s garden party in good humour.

  Violet and Daisy had been a success not only with the socialites of Hong Kong but also with the officers of the Regiments stationed there.

  They had found their fresh, pink-and-white prettiness extremely attractive, and in any case a new face was always an excitement for Regiments stationed abroad.

  Lady Osmund had also been delighted with the manner in which Sir John Pope-Hennessy had singled her out and paid her special attention.

  “Whatever you may say, Frederick,” she said at dinner, “he is very charming.”

  “He can be pleasant,” the General agreed. “At the same time, as I have told you before, Emily, he quarrels with everyone in authority. There is not a permanent Civil Servant in the place who has a good word to say for him, and my staff have been telling me of his quite outrageous behaviour to General Donovan.”

  The General paused and added harshly,

  “I do not intend to be treated in such a fashion!”

  “I am sure Sir John respects and admires you, Frederick,” Lady Osmund said.

  “One of the Colonial Office officials told me Sir John was sent a list of thirty-nine dispatches he never answered,” the General continued. “He also stated that Sir John has muddled the finances of every Colony he has governed.”

  “Well, I beg of you not to quarrel with him, Frederick,” Lady Osmund said firmly. “Hong Kong is really too small a place to contain opposing camps, and quite frankly I enjoy going to Government House. We are both dining there the day after tomorrow.”

  “I am quite happy to leave the social side to you, Emily,” the General answered, “but I have no intention of giving in to the Governor however objectionable he may make himself, where it concerns a matter of law and order.”

  “I am sure you will deal with that most competently,” Lady Osmund said in a conciliatory tone.

  But Azalea realised she was not really interested.

  “We had a lovely time, Azalea,” Daisy told her when they were out of earshot of her mother, “and the officers said such flattering things to us it made Violet and me laugh!”

  “There is a Ball on Friday night,” Violet said, “and we are going to dance in the open air – fancy that!”

  She paused and then, because she was a kindly girl, she added,

  “I think it is very unkind of Mama not to let you come, Azalea. I cannot think why she makes you stay at home.”

  “She has her reasons,” Azalea replied, but she could not help feeling that it would be very wonderful to dance in the open air with Lord Sheldon.

  She was sure he would dance well. At any rate, they would move in unison because they were so close in other ways.

  In the darkness of the night she admitted to herself that she had loved him ever since he had first kissed her.

  It would have been impossible that any man should evoke such wonderful and rapturous feelings without her loving him.

  Because she had been starved of kindness and affection for the last two years since she had come to England, it had been even more marvellous to know he had even noticed her.

  “I love him! I love him!” she whispered into her pillow and felt again the strange magic of his lips on hers.

  She had tried not to think of how she had melted into his arms when they had met in the Second Class of the Orissa. She had been ashamed of herself for not having resisted him, or at least having tried to evade him, but she had known that he drew her to him with an inescapable magnetism that was something deeper and more fundamental than her own will.

  “We belong to each other!” Azalea told herself.

  Then she knew despairingly that it was only a question of time before he would return to England and she would never see him again.

  He might want to see her. He might think he could arrange it, but her uncle was far too apprehensive of what she might reveal about her father’s death for him to tolerate even an acquaintanceship, let alone a friendship.

  Now she thought how foolish she had been not to have taken the opportunities open to her during the long voyage on the Orissa to be with Lord Sheldon.

  And yet she knew that instinctively she had been trying to save herself from suffering.

  She thought now it was inevitable since that moment in the Study that she should love him, and that her love could only bring her the agony of parting and the inexpressible pain of saying goodbye.

  She had tried to save herself and failed, and now she was hopelessly, helplessly in love. Her whole being cried out for him in a manner that in some ways was frightening.

  Azalea knew that there was much of her mother’s emotionalism in her – the deep Russian feelings that could never be understood by the controlled English who were not, she thought, motivated by a fire.

  That, she knew, was what burnt in her own veins when she thought of Lord Sheldon – a fire which surged like quicksilver through her blood and made her yearn for him with an intensity that made her blush.

  “I love him!” she told herself and knew that if he ordered her to walk barefoot with him to India she would obey. But always, standing over her like an avenging angel with a flaming sword, was the memory of her father’s death and the disgrace that would be brought upon the family and the Regiment if it was ever known.

  She was well aware that the British aristocracy were intensely proud of their family and their antecedents, and that Lord Sheldon’s own history was one of honour and integrity.

  Azalea was quite certain that if there was anything scandalous known about him in the past, any unsavoury gossip, her aunt would have heard of it.

  She guessed that even the General had a grudging admiration for him, even though he might deprecate his modern outlook and sympathy with the Governor’s reforms.

  Azalea’s mind shied away from even saying to herself the word ‘marriage’, but it was obvious that if by some miracle Lord Sheldon did love her he could never ask her to be his wife.

  So what was the point, she asked herself, of inviting unhappiness, of growing to love him more and more, knowing it could never come to anything real and they could never be close to each other?

  Despairingly she told herself they were just ships that passed in the night.

  She was a woman who had attracted him momentarily, first because she had surprised him by eavesdropping and perhaps he had wanted to punish her for her behaviour, secondly because there was little competition on board the Orissa.

  The other women were not very attractive and the majority of them were accompanied by their husbands.

  She had intrigued him, and therefore attracted his attention as she might not have done in any other circumstances. It sounded a very plausible explanation – yet she knew there was a great deal more to it than that.

  There was something between them, something that could never be explained away, however many words she expended on it.

  As soon as her aunt and uncle had left, Azalea carried a notebook in which she had written down a large number of instructions up to her bedroom.

  The majority were things that could quite easily be done tomorrow or the day after. There was no urgency about them and she knew that her aunt had only thought of them in order to keep her fully occupied during their absence.

  For once she was prepared to disobey orders.

  Picking up her hat and putting a light shawl over her arm she ran downstairs into the hall.

  She was glad to see that Ah Yok was there and she asked him for a rickshaw.

  “You wish I come with you, Miss?” he asked in Cantonese.

  Without her having to exp
lain to him they must talk only English when her aunt and uncle were present, Ah Yok had known instinctively what she desired and spoke Cantonese only when there was no one within hearing.

  “I am going to the shops on the quay,” Azalea said. “Tell the rickshaw boy where to go and say that I will pay him off. I will find another rickshaw when it is time for me to return.”

  “Very good, Miss.”

  If Ah Yok was surprised at Azalea’s independence, he was not in a position to say so.

  He merely did what was asked of him and a few minutes later Azalea was trundling down the hill, and the rickshaw boy was showing how good he was by travelling as fast as his legs could carry him.

  They passed the cricket ground, the impressive Hong Kong Club and went down Old Praya towards the part of the quay where the junks were moored.

  Azalea had to direct the boy a little further than Ah Yok had told him to go, but finally she saw several very large junks and told him to stop.

  She paid him, and even as she did so, a servant was bowing at her side.

  “Honourable Guest of Mr. Chang?” he asked in his lilting voice.

  Azalea nodded and he led her a little distance to where moored at the quayside was the largest and most impressive looking junk of them all.

  It was painted red, its carvings were picked out in gold, and its bat-like sails were already being unfurled as Azalea stepped aboard to find Kai Yin waiting for her.

  “You come! You come!” she exclaimed with delight. “I so afraid someone stop you.”

  “No, I am here,” Azalea answered looking round with delight, but Kai Yin, taking her by the hand, drew her down inside the junk.

  There was a large Saloon furnished with comfortable couches, silk cushions and embroidered stools.

  “Honourable husband suggest,” Kai Yin said, “wisest you wear Chinese clothes.”

  For a moment Azalea looked surprised and then she understood.

  “You think if people see me they will wonder why I am on a junk?” she asked.

  “English ladies not sail with Chinese,” Kai Yin explained unnecessarily.

  “Yes, of course. I never thought of that,” Azalea smiled.

  “I bring clothes so you look like me,” Kai Yin told her.

  She moved on her tiny feet to where Azalea could see a bedroom opening out of the Saloon.