A Dream from the Night

by Barbara Cartland

“I am sure of it and an exorbitant price it is too!” Mrs. Kingston smiled. “Things keep getting more expensive every year. I cannot think how we will end up if we go on in the way we are now.”

  “No, indeed,” Olinda agreed automatically.

  Lucy left the room and Mrs. Kingston said to Olinda in an almost conspiratorial whisper,

  “I’ve to take that actress his Lordship brought here from Paris round the house this morning. It’s not a task I’m looking forward to. I ask myself, what does someone like that know about antiques?”

  “Perhaps she will be interested in the French rooms,” Olinda suggested, thinking that she would like to see what Mademoiselle le Bronc looked like.

  “Yes, of course. I’ll bring her to the Duchesse’s Room. But don’t be surprised when you see her, Miss Selwyn, she’s not the sort of guest we’re used to entertaining at Kelvedon House, that I can assure you.”

  Mrs. Kingston almost tossed her head as she spoke and certainly sniffed disdainfully when she went from the room.

  Olinda could not help laughing, at the same time she could not help wondering about Mademoiselle le Bronc.

  She knew the reason the Earl had brought her to Kelvedon, but that did not explain his close acquaintance with her and the fact that she was prepared to take a long and tiring journey because he asked it of her.

  As she thought back at what had happened last night, Olinda was sure that it must have been an insubstantial dream.

  Now she could hardly believe not only that her conversation with the Earl had taken place but that she had been so outspoken in what she had said to him.

  What must he have thought of her discussing love with a strange man and, more intimately, his mother’s liaison?

  It was quite incredible that they should have sat side by side looking over the lake and talking of matters that Olinda would have hesitated to discuss with another woman.

  Yet at the time it had seemed entirely natural.

  The words seemed to come to her lips without difficulty and they both had, as the Earl had said, the freedom of the Gods.

  But now Olinda thought it would be difficult to meet him again, she felt, if she had to see him face to face in the daytime, that she would blush self-consciously and feel extremely embarrassed.

  ‘He is certain not to take my advice, but will go back to Paris,’ she told herself reassuringly.

  But it was impossible not to think of him as she sat on the floor by the Duchesse’s elaborate bed.

  She stitched away at the embroidery that was frayed, covered a little flower with new pink and green silks and refurbished the delicate feathers of a bird and the wings of a cupid.

  She was so intent on her own thoughts that it gave her quite a start when she heard Mrs. Kingston say,

  “I’m sure this will interest you, mademoiselle. This is the Duchesse de Mazarin’s room and she slept here when she came to the house over two hundred years ago with King Charles II.”

  “Tiens!” a voice exclaimed.

  Then, as Olinda rose to her feet, she saw Mademoiselle le Bronc.

  The actress was more flamboyant than she imagined any woman could be!

  She had a piquant and gamine type of face with a large sensuous mouth, which, because it was painted flaming red, was the first thing Olinda noticed about her.

  Her lashes were mascaraed and her eyes had a provocative slant to them, which gave her when she smiled an almost Eastern expression.

  Her hair was dyed a coppery gold that was in direct contrast to the darkness of her winged eyebrows and made her skin seem a little sallow.

  Yet all in all, the effect was entrancing and dramatic and at the same time complemented by a chic that was very French.

  She wore a black and white striped gown with touches of red that matched her red lips, red slippers and red waistband, which encircled a really tiny waist.

  On her head was an amusing little hat covered with red quills that no English woman would have dared wear with hair of that colour. Yet the whole ensemble was gay and alluring.

  Mademoiselle le Bronc’s eyes sparkled as she looked round the room and her mouth curved into a smile. The Earl, Olinda thought, had undoubtedly provided himself with an entertaining travelling companion.

  “This is the Duchesse’s bed,” Mrs. Kingston said in the slow voice of a guide speaking to a rather obtuse child. “The curtains were presented to the Earl and Countess of Kelvedon of the day in gratitude for the hospitality Her Grace received.”

  She looked at Olinda.

  “And this is Miss Selwyn, who is repairing some of the embroidery that has been damaged during the passage of the years.”

  “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” Olinda said.

  “You speak French?” Mademoiselle le Bronc asked in the same language.

  “Oui, mademoiselle, but I don’t often have the opportunity of conversing with a French woman.”

  “Voyons, then we must talk, must we not?” Mademoiselle asked. “May I see your work?”

  She walked round to the side of the bed and Olinda showed her what she was doing.

  “But you are an expert!” she exclaimed in French. “I was educated for a few years in a Convent, so I can sew – the nuns made sure of that – but I could not do the work you are doing. It’s exquisite! Merveilleux!”

  “Merci, mademoiselle,” Olinda replied.

  Then, because she was curious, she asked,

  “Are you enjoying yourself in England? Is this your first visit?”

  “My first,” Mademoiselle le Bronc replied. “Your country is very pretty, but it is not for me! I like Paris, the theatres, the dance halls, the smell and the noise of Montmartre. It’s too quiet here.”

  She said it in a way that made Olinda laugh.

  “You will get used to it,” she suggested.

  “Mon Dieu, non!” Mademoiselle exclaimed. “That is something I don’t want and besides I have my work, my career!”

  “Of course you are an actress.”

  “A dancer, mademoiselle, I dance at the Moulin Rouge.”

  She looked at Olinda and smiled.

  “You would not have heard of it. It is not for nice girls like you. But it is amusing and for the gentlemen – what do you say in English? – great fun.”

  “And his Lordship enjoys it?” Olinda enquired.

  “He is sometimes great fun when he is not thinking of this house,” Mademoiselle le Bronc replied.

  She threw up her hands.

  “Tiens! How he thinks and talks of this house! Kelvedon! Kelvedon! Kelvedon!”

  She pronounced it in a funny manner.

  “It is always in his thoughts, in his dreams and in his conversation!”

  She sighed.

  “I say to him sometimes, ‘You love Kelvedon? That I cannot understand because it’s not a woman. Women are there to be loved, women are warm, soft and exciting. Why do you think always of a house?’”

  Olinda laughed because she could not help it.

  “You make it sound very funny, mademoiselle.”

  “It is not always funny for the woman who has to listen,” she said. “Milord is very charming, handsome and enchanting when he wishes. But, when he talks of Kelvedon, he is very English and a bore!”

  Mademoiselle le Bronc almost spat out the last words.

  Then she laughed and her red mouth seemed to curve delightfully and her eyes narrowed into mere slits.

  Mrs. Kingston, who could not understand a word of French, looked from one to the other, until, as if she felt annoyed at being left out, she said sharply,

  “Now, m’mselle, permit me to show you the other State Rooms. They are all on this floor”

  “I have seen enough,” Mademoiselle le Bronc replied. “They are too big, too empty. They should be filled with gay people, singing, dancing, drinking!”

  She looked round her and almost as if she wished to be insulting, she said,

  “In France we had the right idea in the Revolution. We emptied all the f
urniture out of the big châteaux and burnt it.”

  “Burnt it!” Mrs. Kingston exclaimed in a voice that was almost a scream. “You must have been mad! The treasures here are worth thousands and thousands of pounds! And more important than money, m’mselle, they are each one a piece of history.”

  “What is history?” Mademoiselle le Bronc asked with a wave of her hand. “I want to live my own life and I’m not at all interested in other people’s.”

  She turned to Olinda and added,

  “And you do the same, mademoiselle. You can sew when you are old, so live while you are young! If you ever come to Paris, I will show you how to have fun!”

  “Thank you, mademoiselle,” Olinda replied, “but I think that is most unlikely.”

  “You don’t wish to see any more of the house?” Mrs. Kingston asked with an almost incredulous note in her voice.

  “Non, Merci,” Mademoiselle le Bronc replied. “I am going downstairs to see if Monsieur has returned from exercising his horse and then he can exercise me with a glass of wine! That is what I want!”

  As she swept from the room, Mrs. Kingston looked back at Olinda and raised her eyebrows as if in despair.

  Olinda found herself laughing as she sat down again on the floor.

  There was no doubt about it that Mademoiselle le Bronc would be fun to be with and yet even in her company the Earl could think only of Kelvedon.

  There was something very pathetic, Olinda thought, in the idea of a man eating his heart out away for the home he loved while surrounded by all the gaiety of Paris.

  Then she told herself sharply that she was being absurdly sentimental.

  The Earl was not a pathetic boy forced to stay abroad because of some parental order! He was a man who had deliberately chosen to exile himself from his estate and his responsibilities!

  He might have an excuse and he might find it intolerable to live with his mother under the circumstances.

  At the same time he knew quite well where his duty lay and that those who lived on the estate relied on him. There was also his place in the Social world he had been born into.

  ‘Perhaps I should have been more positive in what I said to him last night,’ Olinda told herself.

  Then she thought it was altogether ridiculous to think that he would listen to her ideas.

  He had talked to her on the impulse of the moment and because she was, as he had said, a stranger.

  It had been night and they had both seemed enchanted under the stars beside the Greek temple. So they had talked as a man and woman might talk in a dream. In the light of day it had no reality.

  ‘Remember you are just an embroiderer,’ Olinda told herself, but she could not help feeling her heart give a sudden leap as the door opened.

  She was thinking of the Earl and thought that he had come to see her. She heard footsteps cross the room and then, as they came nearer to the bed, she looked up.

  It was Mr. Felix Hanson!

  For a moment she was not only surprised but quite ridiculously disappointed.

  “Oh, it is you!” she exclaimed involuntarily.

  “Yes, it’s me,” Felix Hanson replied sardonically. “If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, then the mountain must come to Mohammed! Why did you not turn up last night?”

  Olinda bent her head over her stitching.

  “You could not really have expected me.”

  “Of course I expected you!” he said. “I waited for you until nearly one o’clock. How could you be so ungrateful?”

  “Ungrateful?” Olinda echoed in surprise.

  She glanced up at him and found that he was leaning against the bedpost in a nonchalant manner.

  There was an expression in his eyes that made her look away hastily.

  “If it had not been for me,” he said, “you would have been sent home without a chance to prove your skill. You’re far too pretty for this sort of job.”

  There was a caressing note in his voice and Olinda said almost sharply,

  “If that is the truth, thank you. But now perhaps you will allow me to get on with my work. I have a great deal to do.”

  “I am delighted about that,” he said, “because it means that you will be staying for a long time. But I want to talk to you, little Olinda.”

  “My name is Miss Selwyn!”

  “Olinda is far prettier and there’s no point in our wasting a lot of time on the preliminaries.”

  “Preliminaries of what?” Olinda asked.

  “Of getting to know each other very well. Very well indeed,” Felix Hanson said softly. “Your lips attract me.”

  “You have no right to speak to me in this manner, Mr. Hanson, as well you know!” Olinda asserted.

  “Who’s to stop me?” Felix Hanson enquired.

  “I cannot think that her Ladyship would think it correct for you to be gossiping with one of her employees.”

  “She is not to know and therefore you and I have to be very clever,” he said. “We missed an opportunity last night that may not come again for a few days. Equally it might be possible for us to meet later this afternoon.”

  Olinda looked up at him.

  “I have no intention, Mr. Hanson, of meeting you or seeing you at any time!”

  She spoke clearly and positively, but he merely smiled.

  “So you are going to play hard to get?” he said softly. “Well, a little reluctance always makes the chase worthwhile.”

  “There will be no chase!” Olinda insisted sharply. “If you continue to make such suggestions, Mr. Hanson, I shall go immediately to her Ladyship to tell her that you are obstructing me in my work!”

  She thought that the threat might disturb him. Instead he threw back his head and laughed and the sound echoed through the bedroom.

  “I like your spirit, Olinda. But I’m well aware, as you are, that you’ll do nothing of the sort.”

  “I will if you don’t leave me alone!”

  “And find yourself outside the back door as quickly as you can pack your bags?” he asked.

  He laughed again.

  “Make no mistake, her Ladyship knows very well which way the dice throw and it is you who are expendable, Olinda, not me!”

  Olinda was sure that this was true.

  She pressed her lips together and went on sewing.

  “So after that little skirmish,” Felix Hanson said, “and you must admit that I am undoubtedly the winner, let’s begin to talk sensibly.”

  “There is nothing to talk about,” Olinda said.

  “I have a great deal to say, although a kiss would express my feelings far better than all the words in the dictionary!”

  Olinda put the edge of the curtain down in her lap.

  “Listen, Mr. Hanson. I am here because I need the money. My mother is ill and only by taking this sort of work can I provide her with the food and medicine that will keep her alive. I do not wish to jeopardise my mother’s health by philandering with you or anyone else. Please leave me alone!”

  Felix Hanson laughed again.

  “Splendid! Act two, the innocent maiden to the wicked Baron who holds the mortgage on the house! My dear, you would make your fortune on the stage!”

  “What I am saying is true, Mr. Hanson, and I am sincere!” Olinda protested.

  “Indeed I believe every word of it, but I also know that I find you quite adorable and I intend to have those kisses sooner or later, however difficult you may try to make it for me.”

  He took a step nearer to her as he spoke and Olinda looked up at him apprehensively.

  She felt that he would find it difficult to kiss her as she was sitting on the ground, but at the same time her heart had begun to thump in a frightened manner and her mouth felt dry.

  “Come along, my sweet,” he said in a voice that most women found irresistible. “We are now at the end of Act two.”

  He put his arms down towards her as he spoke and Olinda realised that he intended to pick her up off the floor.

  She m
oved backwards against the curtain and as she did so she took up from her lap her long pointed embroidery scissors.

  Felix Hanson’s right hand was just about to touch her when she stabbed him with the scissors. The sharp point passed through the skin just above the thumb.

  He gave a cry of pain and straightened himself, putting his hand to his mouth.

  “You little vixen!”

  He sucked his own blood for some seconds looking down at her angrily and then, perhaps because of the fear in her eyes and the fact that she seemed so small and ineffectual sitting on the floor, his expression changed.

  “You will get into trouble, Olinda, if you go about behaving like that,” he said. “Suppose I told her Ladyship that you are dangerous and it’s a mistake to keep you here?”

  “You would then have to explain why you were near enough for me to injure you!” Olinda retorted.

  “You have an answer to everything, but I don’t intend to give up so easily. As I have said before, I like a woman who is spirited.”

  He paused.

  “It’ll be amusing to conquer you, Olinda, to make you love me because you can’t help yourself.”

  “I will never love you! Never!” Olinda persisted. “And what you are suggesting is not love at all!”

  “How do you know if you have never tried it?” he asked. “I would stake my reputation that you have never been made love to by a man. And I would not be surprised if you’ve never even been kissed!”

  Despite herself, the colour rose in Olinda’s face.

  “I was sure of it!” Felix Hanson said softly, “and I can assure you that no one can teach you better than I can the delights you are missing.”

  “I am missing nothing except privacy,” Olinda snapped.

  Felix Hanson sucked again his hand from which the blood was still oozing.

  “You intrigue me,” he said, “and you have challenged me. It is a challenge I shall not refuse!”

  “I have only asked you to leave me alone,” she said breathlessly.

  “Something I have no intention of doing,” he replied, “and we shall see who will win!”

  He walked across the room towards the door and, just as he reached it, it opened.

  “Felix, what are you doing here?” a voice asked sharply.

  Olinda knew who was speaking.