66 The Love Pirate

by Barbara Cartland

  “It’s what I want to do,” she said, “and my husband will tell you that when I set my heart upon anything there’s no gainsaying me!”

  Bertilla thought later that it was fascinating to have the tailors, who were all Chinese, arriving with roll upon roll of different materials, which they spread out on the veranda for her inspection.

  There were satins and embroidered silks in a dozen different designs, each more attractive than the last.

  Bertilla felt she would never have been able to make up her mind, but Mrs. Henderson knew exactly what she wanted. She gave her orders with sharpness and a precision about which there could be no misunderstanding.

  “Please – please – no more!” Bertilla cried over and over again, but her hostess had no intention of listening to her.

  “I shall never be able to wear all these gowns in Sarawak,” she said at last, despairingly.

  “In Sarawak?” Mrs. Henderson exclaimed. “Why are you going to Sarawak?”

  “I am to live with my aunt,” Bertilla explained.

  “Well, I must say you are full of surprises!” Mrs. Henderson said. “I should not have imagined you would want to live in such an isolated place at your age.”

  “I had no choice in the matter.”

  “From all I hear, it’s very dull in Sarawak, but you will at least have some pretty clothes to console you,” Mrs. Henderson said. “I’m sure there’s no hurry for you to get there, so Singapore can enjoy seeing them before you leave.”

  Bertilla did not know what to say.

  She had a feeling that, if she behaved as she ought to, she would leave for Sarawak as soon as possible.

  But she obviously could not go without a single thing to wear except the evening gown she had arrived in and which, as she had expected, had suffered from her walk through the forest.

  “Leave everything to me,” Mrs. Henderson said and for the moment Bertilla was only too happy to do as she was told.

  At luncheon time she learnt that Lord and Lady Sandford were quite safe and had been moved from the very uncomfortable shelter where they had spent the night to a planter’s house a few miles away.

  “I have sent them a message to say that we are here and very well looked after,” Lord Saire told Bertilla.

  “I am glad,” she answered. “I would not want Lady Sandford to worry about me.”

  “If you had behaved correctly, you should have gone with her when the fire started,” Lord Saire said.

  But he was smiling as he spoke and Bertilla knew it was not really a rebuke.

  “I much preferred to be with you,” she said honestly, “and Mrs. Henderson is so very kind.”

  “In case you are worrying about what she is spending on you,” Lord Saire said in a low voice, “let me assure you that the Hendersons are very rich and they can afford to be generous.”

  She gave him a quick smile, which told him that she appreciated that he was thinking of her feelings.

  He thought that, despite the elegance of the gown she had borrowed and her smile, there was something pathetic and a little lost about her.

  It was the first time in his life that he had ever felt an urge to protect a woman or keep her from feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable.

  In the past if anyone needed protection it had been himself!

  The Goddesses like Gertrude and his other loves had all been fully capable of looking after themselves and obtaining everything they wanted in the world by sheer determination.

  In a way, despite the femininity of their appearance, they were Amazons, women who were ready to fight for everything they desired.

  Bertilla, he thought, was very different.

  It was not only when she was clearly afraid that he felt anxious to reassure her, it was because she always seemed too small and too unsure of herself to manage alone.

  He knew, as she looked away from him over the sunlit garden, that she was trying to avoid being, as she put it, an encumbrance on him.

  Any other woman finding herself in such circumstances would have been demanding his attention, giving orders, expecting them to be obeyed and insisting at the same time on being flattered and inevitably the centre of everybody’s attention.

  He knew that Bertilla was anxious to draw as little attention as possible.

  Yet he noticed that, because she was so attentive and because she listened not only with her ears but also with her mind, people were anxious to talk to her and obviously enjoyed her company.

  “Bertilla is a very sweet girl, Lord Saire,” Mrs. Henderson said later in the evening when Bertilla had gone up to her room to lie down.

  “She is very young and all this is rather bewildering for her,” Lord Saire remarked.

  “She’s not so young that she does not think and feel,” Mrs. Henderson answered, “and she also appreciates everything that is done for her. That’s unusual today, when most people, young and old, seem to take everything for granted.”

  That was exactly what the women he had known in the past had done, Lord Saire thought.

  “What’s all this nonsense about the girl going to live in Sarawak?” Mrs. Henderson asked.

  “I understand that her mother, Lady Alvinston, is sending her out there to live with her aunt.”

  Mrs. Henderson looked at Lord Saire.

  “You’re not referring to Agatha Alvinston by any chance?”

  “I believe that is her name.”

  “Good Lord! Bertilla will have a terrible time with that old harridan! She comes to Singapore occasionally to make trouble and extort money from those who are willing to give her anything as long as she will go away!”

  Mrs. Henderson paused and then she said,

  “I remember now Sir Charles Brooke saying something about her when he was dining with the Governor last year. We were at a dinner party and someone, I cannot remember who it was, made a remark about the Missionaries.”

  “I am sure they are a nuisance in this part of the world,” Lord Saire interposed.

  “It was worse than that and they were speaking specifically about Miss Alvinston. I wish I could remember what was said, but it’s gone out of my head.”

  Lord Saire did not speak and after a moment Mrs. Henderson went on,

  “You ought to stop Bertilla from going to Sarawak and wasting her life trying to convert a lot of headhunters who are perfectly happy as they are.”

  Lord Saire smiled.

  “I am afraid Bertilla is not my responsibility, although naturally I am sorry that this is to be her fate.”

  Mrs. Henderson rose rather heavily from her chair.

  “She may not be your responsibility at the moment, Lord Saire,” she said, “but if you take my advice you will make it yours.”

  She walked out of the room as she spoke, leaving Lord Saire staring after her in astonishment.

  After a moment he rose from his chair to pour himself a drink.

  Chapter Five

  Lord Saire looked round the room and saw no sign of Bertilla.

  It was, however, crowded with a large number of the Henderson’s friends who had been invited especially to meet them.

  Some of their near neighbours had also arrived with the passengers from the Coromandel, who had become their unexpected guests.

  There were, therefore, quite a number of familiar faces and, although Lord and Lady Sandford were not amongst them, Lady Ellenton was.

  The planters in Malaya were a cheerful lot and the laughter was hearty and unrestrained.

  By this time in the evening everyone was becoming somewhat merry on the popular local drink known as ‘Planters Punch’. It had a basis of rum, but it also contained local brandy and the mixed juices of the fruits that grew in such profusion, especially pineapple.

  A number of the guests were dancing in an adjacent room where a large and very loud woman was playing the piano.

  She sang at intervals while everybody joined in and the dancing itself grew progressively wilder as the evening wore on.


  Lord Saire walked out onto the veranda to find that it was crowded too and above the noise and the laughter there was the continual shout for a servant to bring more drinks.

  He had the feeling that Bertilla would be somewhere in the garden, seeking an isolated spot as she had done on the ship.

  After moving between the orchid beds and beneath the trees of frangipani heavy with blossom, he found her.

  She was looking out over the countryside, which gleamed white and mysterious in the light of the moon.

  Her gown, which was one of the new ones made for her within the twenty-four hours that Mrs. Henderson had promised, was, Lord Saire had thought when she came down to dinner, very attractive.

  Always before he had seen her very simply and almost drably dressed. But the gown Mrs. Henderson had chosen was swept back into an elegant bustle.

  There were bunches of artificial pink roses on either side of it and the same flowers decorated the low bodice.

  It was a gown that any London debutante would have been pleased to wear and Lord Saire had known as Bertilla entered the room that her eyes sought his and asked him wordlessly if he approved.

  He had noticed since their arrival at Henderson House that she continually sought his approval of something she had said or done.

  Not by asking him awkward questions and expecting compliments, as another woman might have done, but just questioning him with her grey eyes and knowing by the expression in his what was the answer.

  ‘She needs looking after,’ Lord Saire had said to himself not once but a hundred times.

  Yet he told himself that it would be a great mistake for him to become too involved in Bertilla’s future and he certainly had no authority to suggest any alternative to her living with her aunt in Sarawak.

  He could not help thinking that there must be some way she could earn her living in Singapore, but he had no idea what that could be and he had no intention of taking Mrs. Henderson into his confidence.

  He had an unmistakable feeling that she was matchmaking where he and Bertilla were concerned and he told himself irritably that it was impossible for him even to speak to a woman without someone expecting wedding bells.

  Nevertheless, he found himself thinking continually of Bertilla and her problems and he noticed that in the happy genial atmosphere of Henderson House she seemed to blossom like one of the flowers in the garden.

  He found himself watching for the light in her eyes, the smile on her lips and the way she seemed to be losing some of the insecurity, which had been so obvious when he had talked to her before.

  ‘It’s that damned mother of hers,’ he told himself, ‘who has made her afraid of everything and everybody!’

  He thought once again that she was like a puppy, ready to trust everyone, until she found that blows and harsh words were to be expected rather than kindness.

  He knew as he now saw Bertilla silhouetted against the flowering shrubs and the frangipani trees that he had been half-afraid that she might be encountering difficulties with one of the planters.

  He had noticed during dinner and afterwards how eagerly the younger men sought out her company.

  He realised that anyone as lovely as Bertilla would be an excitement and inevitably a temptation in a land where young and pretty English women were few and far between.

  He remembered the fear that had been in her eyes when she told him about the Dutchman on board the Coromandel and he was determined that if he could prevent it there should be no repetition of what had happened to her then.

  Although he was walking very quietly on the grass, she must have sensed his approach, for she turned her head before he reached her and now in the moonlight he saw the smile on her lips.

  “I wondered where you had disappeared to,” he began.

  “It’s so lovely out here,” Bertilla answered. “Could anything be more beautiful?”

  “There are a number of gentlemen back in the house wanting to dance with you.”

  “I would rather be here, especially now that you – ”

  She did not finish the sentence, as if she felt she was being too personal and after a moment Lord Saire said,

  “I wanted to tell you that tomorrow I am leaving early with Mr. Henderson to inspect his plantation. He owns a great deal of land and it will take us the whole day to see it all.”

  He paused before he added,

  “Henderson has put down some new crops which have never been grown in Malaya before and I want to see the results.”

  He was telling her exactly what he was doing because he thought that, after what he had said about showing her the countryside, she might be disappointed that she was not included in tomorrow’s expedition.

  But it was entirely a business trip and what he saw would be incorporated in his report, which would be sent back to England.

  Bertilla did not speak and after a moment he said,

  “There will be another day, I am sure, when I can ask you to come with me.”

  Bertilla looked away from him as she said in a very low voice,

  “How long can I – stay? Perhaps I should – leave for Sarawak.”

  “I expected you to ask me that,” Lord Saire replied. “There is no hurry, Bertilla. Mrs. Henderson has said over and over again how much she likes having you here.”

  “She has been very kind.”

  “You will find that the people in Malaya are kind and they expect their guests to stay for a long time,” Lord Saire explained. “Therefore what I was going to suggest to you was that you should avail yourself of the Henderson’s hospitality for several weeks at least.”

  “Could I do – that?”

  He heard the excitement in her voice.

  “Why not?” he asked. “I do not intend to move to Government House until my wardrobe is fully replenished.”

  “I am afraid that you lost much more than your clothes on the ship.”

  Lord Saire was surprised that Bertilla should be intelligent enough to know that his notes, his books and a great number of other papers were an irreplaceable loss.

  Aloud he said,

  “Perhaps it is good for me to have to rely on my memory for a change. Anyone who has a great deal to do with bureaucracy becomes a slave sooner or later to the written word.”

  “I am sure you will find your mind is just as effective as any memorandum.”

  “I hope you are right, although I rather doubt it!” Lord Saire smiled.

  “When you move to Singapore, how long will you stay there?” Bertilla asked.

  He was finding himself unusually perceptive where Bertilla was concerned and he knew that she was feeling that as long as he was somewhere in the vicinity she had someone to turn to in trouble, someone who in an emergency would protect and save her.

  Because he knew it was the answer she wanted to hear, he replied,

  “Quite some time, and before I leave this part of the world completely, I intend to visit Sumatra, Java, Bali and perhaps, who knows, even Sarawak!”

  “Is it really – possible that you would come there?” Bertilla asked.

  “I shall certainly put it on my schedule,” Lord Saire promised.

  He knew that his answer brought her a sudden happiness and he thought again how very vulnerable she was and how frightening the future must seem to anyone so young and inexperienced.

  On an impulse he suggested,

  “When I reach Government House in Singapore, I will speak to the Governor and see if there is someone you could stay with for a short while.”

  Bertilla gave a little murmur and he continued,

  “I know that you would like to see how all Sir Stamford Raffles plans and ambitions have developed thirty years later.”

  “It would be very exciting to see the Harbour and all the buildings I have read about in the book you gave me.”

  She hesitated before adding,

  “I was – expecting to stay in a – cheap hotel while I was – waiting for the steamer, but I do not like to
ask Mrs. Henderson to recommend one. She has been so kind and generous that it would look as if I was asking her to pay.”

  “I am quite certain that there will be no question of your going alone to a hotel,” Lord Saire said sharply. “As I have already said, Bertilla, people are very hospitable in this part of the world and I will arrange for you to stay with someone in the town as their guest.”

  As he spoke, he thought how much he disliked the idea of Bertilla being pushed round from pillar to post and having to rely on the charity of strangers.

  At the same time it was unthinkable for her to stay alone in a hotel.

  ‘Only Lady Alvinston could have planned anything so diabolical,’ he thought, but aloud he said,

  “Leave everything to me. I will arrange something, you may be sure of that!”

  “Is it possible to find any more words to describe your – kindness?” Bertilla asked. “I was thinking last night how inadequate English is as a language to express one’s emotions.”

  “That I believe is true,” Lord Saire replied, “but the French are past masters when it comes to speaking of love.”

  He spoke lightly and his remark was one he would have made automatically to any of the women he flirted with.

  But Bertilla did not respond with the sort of repartee with which he was only too familiar.

  Instead she said in a forlorn little voice,

  “Love is – something that I shall never – learn about in – Sarawak.”

  “Why should you say that?” Lord Saire asked.

  “Because in the book you gave me about the country it said there were very few Europeans there and those there are, are not – likely to be interested in a – Missionary.”

  This was so indisputably true that Lord Saire was at a loss to answer her. But he was surprised that Bertilla should have reasoned the position out for herself.

  “Perhaps it will be better than you fear,” he said aloud.

  She turned to face him, her eyes raised to his as she said,

  “I don’t want you to think I am complaining. It will be so marvellous for me to have this to – remember, when I might have had – nothing.”

  The sincerity in her voice was very moving.

  As she looked up at him, the moonlight turning her fair hair to silver, her eyes dark and mysterious in her heart-shaped face, she looked lovely and ethereal.