Signpost To Love

by Barbara Cartland

  He found himself thinking how she had lain down beside him and fallen asleep, confident that he would protect her and keep her safe until daylight.

  ‘She is so young and trusting,’ the Earl thought. ‘What will happen to her in Paris?’

  “You are looking fierce and rather grim,” Baptista said accusingly.

  The Earl forced a smile to his lips.

  “Then I must apologise. That is certainly not the way to behave when you are dining with a lovely lady.”

  “When you are with one of the ladies you usually dine with,” Baptista asked, “what do you talk about?”

  The Earl certainly knew the answer to that.

  They would be talking about themselves and his dinner companion would be using every allure in her repertoire to entice and excite him.

  “What do you think we talk about?” he asked.

  “I was thinking when I was dressing,” Baptista replied, “that a lady wearing a gown like this would want to flirt with you. The trouble is, I don’t know how to flirt or what one says or does.”

  The Earl did not answer and she bent towards him across the table.

  “Please tell me what I should do,” she said, “then perhaps I shall be a – sensation when I reach Paris and Mama will be – pleased with me.”

  The idea suddenly annoyed the Earl unreasonably.

  “You are far too young to flirt, as you call it,” he said sharply, “or to spoil yourself by being anything but natural.”

  She looked surprised at the way he spoke and then said humbly,

  “I only want to improve myself, and I want – you to admire me, and not find me a – bore.”

  “I should certainly find you a bore if you pretended to be anything you were not or deliberately tried to attract men.”

  He might have guessed that this statement would arouse Baptista’s interest.

  “Do you mean that women know how to make a man think they are attractive?” she asked. “Is it something they say, the way they look or what they do?”

  “I really have no idea,” he replied quickly.

  “I don’t think that is true,” Baptista answered. “I am sure when I think about it that if a woman wants to attract a man, she can approach him in some special way or perhaps say things to him that make him want to – carry her away into the night or – perhaps – kiss her.”

  The Earl was silent, thinking that this was a very strange conversation and one it would have been best for him to avoid, although he was not quite certain how he could do so.

  Baptista looked at him reflectively.

  “Do you think – and please tell me the truth – that men will want to kiss me? Would you like to – kiss me?”

  The Earl’s eyes met hers and then quickly he looked away.

  “I think we have both forgotten,” he said, “that you are my niece and this is not the sort of conversation that you would be having with your uncle.”

  “I wish I had a dozen uncles like you,” Baptista said, “but I am certain that if Papa had a brother he would be like him and I would have had two of them scolding and beating me and that would be too frightening even to contemplate!”

  “Nevertheless,” the Earl said, “you are well aware how you should behave as my niece and, as we shall be in Paris tomorrow, you had better start practising. So we will talk of something quite different.”

  “You might have just answered my question,” Baptista said. “I shall find myself worrying about it and I am sure when you kiss a lovely lady, it is very – very exciting for – her.”

  The Earl did not miss the almost pathetic note of wistfulness in her voice.

  He knew, although it seemed incredible, that she was thinking that nobody would want to kiss her, especially as all the time they had been alone together, he had shown no inclination to do so.

  It suddenly struck him that something he had never done before was to awaken a young girl to womanhood.

  The first kiss he had ever given had been to a woman much older than himself and, when he looked back, he had been able to see that she had been attracted by him and deliberately set out to ensnare him.

  He was sure that Baptista’s lips would be very soft, very sweet and very innocent and felt a sudden desire to reassure her that she was extremely attractive and to be the first man to make her aware of it.

  Then he told himself it would be very reprehensible, the child trusted him and to abuse that trust in any way would be both wrong and unsporting.

  At the same time he could not help thinking that any other man in the same position, especially the type of men she would meet after tomorrow, would not fail to accept what fate had brought them in the shape of a girl both pure and unspoilt in a manner that was almost unique in the world today.

  Fortunately at that moment more food was brought to the table, which diverted Baptista’s attention.

  It was only when dinner was finished and coffee and a glass of brandy for the Earl had been left on the table that she said with a smile

  “Now we can go on talking and please try to help me to be more knowledgeable, otherwise I am afraid that people will laugh at me when I reach Paris.”

  “Why should you think they will do that?”

  “Because I shall make gaffes and say stupid things simply because I am ignorant.”

  “If, when you first arrive, you keep very quiet you will soon learn from other people’s behaviour what is expected of you.”

  As he spoke he hoped that the advice he was giving her was good.

  But once again there were a number of question marks as to what sort of people she would meet and what their behaviour would be and certainly a doubt as to whether she would understand the double entendre of ordinary French conversation.

  “I suppose really,” Baptista said, “I am feeling afraid because I shall have to leave you. You said that we were just acquaintances, but I feel as if I have known you all my life and you have always been there in my mind.”

  “I wonder why you should feel like that,” the Earl asked. “Perhaps it is because you have not met many people living at home with your father.”

  “That is what I expected you would say,” she answered, “but it is more than that. At first I thought that you were so important and so overwhelming and I was completely insignificant and of no consequence beside you.”

  She paused and was obviously feeling for words before she continued,

  “Then I began to feel in a way that I was almost a part of you. I could understand what you were thinking and I know that you understand my thoughts because sometimes you answer them without my even saying them aloud. Why do we feel like that?”

  “Why do you feel like that?” the Earl questioned.

  “I don’t know the answer,” Baptista replied, “but what do you feel about me?”

  The Earl chose his words with care.

  “I think you are a very attractive and very charming young girl who needs a mother or a father to look after her until she finds the right man for her to marry.”

  “That, I suppose, is what every girl wants,” Baptista agreed. “But most of all they want a home, which is something I don’t possess.”

  It was typical, because she was so sharp-brained that she should put her finger unerringly on the point he had felt obliged to omit.

  “We none of us, find perfection in this world,” he answered, “and therefore we have to make do with what we have. When you find your mother, Baptista, or rather I find her for you, then you can just enjoy yourself for a year or so until you find a husband.”

  “If I get married,” Baptista answered, “I would want to be in love as Mama was in love when she ran away with the Comte. I should also want a man who could ride as well as you and be as clever as you.”

  “You are very complimentary,” the Earl said dryly.

  “I would not ask that he be as handsome as you,” Baptista went on, as if he had not spoken, “because I think that would be impossible, but I could not bear t
o marry a man who is stupid or who could not handle a horse.”

  “I am sure that you will find plenty of men with those qualifications.”

  “There is – something else as – well.”

  “What is that?”

  “If I was to – marry a man, he would have to be kind.”

  She paused and the Earl knew what she was going to say next.

  “Papa was unkind and cruel, but you are kind,” Baptista went on. “You were kind when you helped me to escape when you did not really want to. You have been kind in letting me ride with you and buying me these wonderful clothes and most of all in bringing me as far as Paris when you really wished to be rid of me at the first town we came to.”

  “That was before I knew you,” the Earl said.

  “I realise it will be embarrassing for you to pretend to your friends that I am your niece,” Baptista said, “and perhaps because I am so grateful for all you have – done for me – I should stay in a cheap hotel or lodging-house until you can find Mama.”

  She lowered her voice before she added,

  “I could not – bear to hurt you in – any way after all you have – done for me.”

  “You are thinking of me, Baptista?”

  “Of course I am thinking of you,” she replied. “There is no man in the world who would be so kind – or so – wonderful.”

  There was a little sob on the last word and as the Earl looked at Baptista incredulously, his eyes met hers and then it was impossible for either of them to look away.

  It seemed to the Earl as if he looked through her blue eyes deep into her very soul and he knew in spite of her intelligence how unsure and afraid she was and yet she was not thinking of herself but of him.

  He made a conscious effort to look away from her.

  “We have already decided what we are going to do,” he said, “and there is no point in arguing about it any further. The Vicomte de Dijon has never met my sisters and has no idea of the ages of their children. You will stay with him as my niece and, if you wish to please me, you will not say anything which might make him doubt our relationship.”

  Baptista did not speak for the moment and he had the feeling that she was thinking about something else.

  Then she said in a low voice that he could hardly hear,

  “I will do – anything you ask – but please – please – help me. I shall be so – afraid unless you do so.”

  Chapter Five

  It was growing late in the evening when they drove into Paris and Baptista was tremendously excited by all that she saw.

  “Look at the tall houses with their grey shutters!” she cried, “and the trees in every street. It’s so pretty – so exactly what I thought Paris would be like!”

  The Earl smiled at her enthusiasm.

  Because he had wanted her to look her best they had not ridden after they left Chantilly, but driven in the carriage and he thought that the new gown Barnard had bought her was exceedingly becoming as was the small bonnet that went with it, trimmed with flowers.

  He had known that the clothes meant more to her than they would have done to another girl who had not been kept in a puritan state of austerity and never allowed the frivolities that meant so much to a woman.

  Even so he knew that few women of his acquaintance would have been so sincerely grateful instead of taking everything that was given to them as a right because they were beautiful.

  He was aware that Baptista was not only unsure of her behaviour and her looks but also of her relationship with other people.

  This was understandable considering she had been kept imprisoned in her father’s house and both men and women of her own age were an unknown quantity.

  He knew as they entered Paris that, while she was thrilled with everything she saw, she was also apprehensive of meeting his friends and no longer being alone with him.

  “What is your friend the Vicomte like?” she had asked while they were having luncheon.

  “He is a very charming and sophisticated Frenchman,” the Earl answered without really thinking.

  When he saw that meant very little to Baptista, he explained further,

  “The Vicomte is the eldest son of the Marquis St. Quentin who is an extremely rich man, but in ill health, so he seldom leaves his magnificent château in the Loire.”

  “I would like to see a really important château,” Baptista murmured.

  The Earl continued as if she had not spoken,

  “My friend, the Vicomte, therefore has the family house in Paris to himself and you will find it holds some very interesting pictures as well as magnificent Louis XIV furniture which was luckily not destroyed in the Revolution.”

  He saw that Baptista was interested, and he went on,

  “The Vicomte was married when he was very young and his wife gave him two sons before she died giving birth to a third.”

  “I did not think of him as being married!” Baptista exclaimed. “I thought he would be a bachelor like you.”

  The Earl smiled.

  “That is what he is to all intents and purposes, because he leaves his children with their grandparents and enjoys himself in Paris.”

  There was a little silence and then Baptista said,

  “And that is what you – will do – with him?”

  He knew that she was thinking once again of the women she called ‘lovely ladies’ and he thought apprehensively that she had come very close to the truth.

  “I have other things to do as well,” he said evasively.

  He remembered that it was what she had suspected herself when she said she was sure that his journey to Paris was not only in search of amusement.

  There was silence.

  Then she asked,

  “Will you take me – anywhere with you – or will you wish to go alone?”

  It was a question that the Earl had already asked himself, thinking it might add further to his indiscretion in taking her from her father if she was seen at the social gatherings he would inevitably be asked to on his arrival.

  “I think the first thing we must do,” he said aloud, “is to try to find your mother and, of course, while we are doing so, I will introduce you to some of my French friends.”

  He thought to himself that he would choose them very carefully, but he saw Baptista’s eyes light up.

  Then she said,

  “Will my gowns be smart enough?”

  The Earl laughed.

  “There speaks the eternal Eve, who I am quite certain never had enough fig leaves! Let me tell you, Baptista, I should be delighted in my role as uncle to provide you with some Parisian gowns.”

  “I promise you that I will pay you back as soon as I can handle any of my own money,” Baptista said, “and I expect Mama will pay for me if I am unable to do so myself.”

  “I don’t think you will bankrupt me,” the Earl smiled.

  “You are so kind,” Baptista said, “but I don’t want you to be ashamed of me, as you might be if your French friends thought I looked dowdy.”

  The Earl thought that would be impossible, but he merely said dryly,

  “That is something we must definitely prevent happening.”

  They drove on and when they passed through the Place de la Concorde, Baptista was even more excited than she had been before.

  “I knew it would look like this,” she said, “the fountains make the whole place like a Fairyland. In fact, because Paris is so beautiful, I feel the French people who live in it will be beautiful too.”

  The Earl hoped a little cynically that she would continue to think so.

  Then they were driving up the Champs Élysées and through the gold-tipped wrought-iron gates that led to the house where they would be staying.

  Servants in very elaborate livery hurried to open the door of the carriage and a Major Domo splendidly garbed greeted them on behalf of his Master and led them with a show of pomp and ceremony towards the salon.

  The Major Domo halted to ask Baptista’s name
and, when the Earl had given it, he flung the doors open with a dramatic gesture,

  “My Lord Hawkshead and the Honourable Mademoiselle Hawk, Monsieur le Vicomte.”

  The Vicomte, who had been reading the newspapers at the far end of the room, jumped to his feet and the Earl saw an expression of surprise on his face as he walked towards him holding out his hand.

  “Irvin, I am delighted to see you!” he said in English, “I was expecting you yesterday.”

  “I am late owing to a storm,” the Earl explained, “but I am glad to be here, Pierre, and I only hope that you will forgive me for bringing you an extra guest – my niece!”

  The Vicomte held out his hand to Baptista saying,

  “Any relative of yours, Irvin, is extremely welcome, especially one who is so pretty!”

  Baptista smiled showing her dimples as she curtseyed.

  “Baptista was unfortunately involved in an accident outside Calais,” the Earl explained, “and I luckily arrived at just the right moment to rescue her.”

  “As far as I am concerned it could not be more fortunate,” the Vicomte said.

  There was no mistaking the admiration in his eyes as he looked at Baptista.

  “I have a glass of champagne waiting for you,” he added, “and I hope that mademoiselle will join us, unless there is something else she prefers?”

  “I feel, as Paris is so lovely, that I should drink a toast to it,” Baptista said.

  “And we will toast you, mademoiselle, because you will undoubtedly make Paris much lovelier than it is already.”

  The Earl noticed that Baptista seemed delighted with his compliments and to his surprise not embarrassed by them.

  The Vicomte poured the wine into their glasses, then raising his glass, he said, looking at Baptista,

  “To a new beauty who will, I know, eclipse all those who are dazzling Paris at the moment and give us all a new conception of loveliness!”

  The words sounded very flattering in French and the Earl thought a little sourly that if this continued Baptista would soon get her head turned.

  “If you will excuse me,” the Vicomte said, “I will just go and instruct my servants about where your niece is to sleep.”