Women have Hearts

by Barbara Cartland

  When she was dressed for dinner and stood for a moment at the window looking at the moonlight touching the waves and turning them to silver and the sky was filled with stars that twinkled like diamonds in the darkness, she wished that she at any rate could stay in Dakar for a long time.

  To her the alternative was not Paris and parties, it was humiliation and hard work in the Seminary.

  As she thought about it, she said a little prayer of gratitude, because whatever happened in the future, for the moment everything was different from what it had been for eight long miserable years.

  They went down the stairs and the servant who was waiting took them down a wide cool corridor to a room that they had not previously visited when they had toured the house.

  It had long windows that overlooked both the sea and the land, although it was too dark to see anything outside.

  As it happened, Kelda only had eyes for the room itself. Unlike the rest of the house, large though it was, it was filled with books on every wall and books were also stacked on tables and even on the floor.

  “I thought perhaps you would like to see my special Sanctum where I spend most of my time,” Lord Orsett said to Yvette, “so I have invited you here this evening, although I doubt if you will have many invitations to join me here in the future.”

  “Why is that?” Yvette enquired.

  “Because this is where I work.”

  “What sort of work?”

  “I am writing a history of the West African tribes.”

  Kelda made an involuntary sound of excitement and Lord Orsett turned towards her.

  “That surprises you, Miss Lawrence?”

  “I am really interested, my Lord. When I saw the carvings you have, I longed to know all about them and I felt certain that they had a long history, just as I am sure that the legends of West Africa are fascinating.”

  Lord Orsett looked surprised and then he said almost sharply to Yvette,

  “And are you as interested, Yvette, as your friend?”

  “I am more interested in the present than the past,” Yvette replied. “If I have to, I would rather study the great history of Paris than anywhere else.”

  She spoke provocatively and Lord Orsett frowned.

  Kelda knew that Yvette had annoyed him and he said abruptly,

  “I thought perhaps you would like a glass of wine before dinner and, as you have such a penchant for Paris, it is perhaps appropriate that I can offer you a glass of champagne.”

  “Thank you,” Yvette said. “When were you last in Paris, Uncle Maximus?”

  “A long time ago and it is a City that I have no intention of ever returning to.”

  There was no disguising the contemptuous way he spoke.

  “How can you say something like that?” Yvette exclaimed. “Paris is the most wonderful and the most exciting City in the world.”

  “I presume you have seen a great many others to compare it with?” Lord Orsett sneered.

  “Enough to know what I like and where I want to live,” Yvette answered.

  Her uncle did not reply and, watching him, Kelda thought that his eyes were suddenly steel-like and his lips had tightened into a hard line.

  ‘Yvette is antagonising him,’ she thought and, as she was determined to be conciliatory, she asked,

  “Are all your books in here about Africa?”

  “Most of them,” Lord Orsett agreed.

  “Then I hope you will allow me to read some of them that will tell me what I want to know, otherwise I might bore you by asking too many questions.”

  “Most of the books are written in French,” he replied in an uncompromising voice.

  “I can read French quite competently,” Kelda pointed out.

  She thought by his expression that he did not believe her, but he replied politely,

  “In which case I can certainly find you some literature on subjects about which you are particularly curious.”

  It was a relief when dinner was announced and they went into the large room in which it would have been easy to entertain fifty or even a hundred people without being overcrowded.

  The meal was original and really delicious and, as Kelda was afraid that Yvette might antagonise her uncle even further than she had already, she put herself out to ask about the food.

  He told her the names of the local fish and she learnt that small cherry tomatoes were one of the favourite products of the district.

  It was a conversation that interested her, but she knew by her expression and the manner in which she made no effort to join in, that Yvette was bored.

  In fact when they moved after dinner was over into a Reception room that they had seen before, she yawned several times and Kelda wondered if it would be wise to suggest that they should retire to bed.

  With a glass of brandy in his hand Lord Orsett sat down beside her and, when there was silence for a moment, Kelda felt instinctively that he was going to say something important.

  “You must have wondered, Yvette,” he said after a moment, “why I ordered you to come out here to me when I was well aware that you were expecting to go to Paris to live with your French uncles and aunts.”

  “I thought it was very strange, Uncle Maximus,” Yvette replied, “and quite frankly I was upset.”

  “That is what I expected,” Lord Orsett said, “but now I am going to explain to you why I wanted you in Dakar.”

  He looked at her as he spoke and it was, Kelda felt, as if once again he was appraising her as a man might look at a horse, noting her points and her appearance from her shining dark hair to her small exquisitely shod feet.

  “The truth is, Yvette,” he then said, “that I have brought you here to be married.”

  “Married?”

  The word was hardly audible as Yvette spoke and yet to Kelda it sounded like a cry that echoed and re-echoed round the room.

  “Yes, married,” Lord Orsett repeated, “and let me explain why.”

  He sat back a little more comfortably in his chair and Kelda thought he was well aware that both her eyes and Yvette’s were fixed on him with an almost terrified attention.

  “I have been living here for some years and I have become extremely interested in the special problem of French colonisation in Senegal, which is different from any other part of their Empire.”

  He paused as if he expected one or other of them to speak and, when they did not do so, he continued,

  “Senegal is now France’s major base in West Africa and it is here that her Imperialism will prove most successful.”

  “What has this to do with me?” Yvette managed to ask.

  “That is what I will tell you in due course,” Lord Orsett replied. “I have discussed the French ambitions for Senegal with the present Governor-General, who is a very intelligent man and with a number of Officials who have come here from France in the last two years. What they think is wanted more than anything else at the moment is a staple white Society, both in Dakar and St. Louis.”

  He looked at Kelda as he asked,

  “You seem to have an interest in West Africa, so I presume that you are aware of the difficulties that have occurred amongst those administering the country owing to the absence of European women?”

  “I can understand that being a – problem,” Kelda answered. “At the same time I am not aware of any of the details.”

  “Then let me inform you of the position to date. Inevitably the French who settled here either for a long or a short term took African mistresses and wives.”

  Yvette gave a little gasp as if she was feeling shocked, but she did not speak and Lord Orsett went on,

  “The wives, signares as they are called, of European husbands in a Trading Post, have a certain social status as consorts.”

  “I think I read about that somewhere,” Kelda said, feeling that she was expected to say something.

  “A soldier or Company employee sometimes sets his signare up in business to augment his own salary and, if he leaves the po
st indefinitely, his business and property are left to her and her children.”

  “That seems fair,” Kelda murmured.

  She was talking because she felt that, if she held Lord Orsett’s attention, he would not notice that Yvette had gone very pale and was clenching her fingers tightly together until the knuckles were white.

  “The French have decided that this position is not particularly satisfactory,” Lord Orsett went on. “As they wish to develop Dakar as an important Port, it is obvious that European women must be persuaded to live here and their presence will have a marked effect on the character of local Society.”

  “I can – understand that,” Kelda said in a low voice.

  “At the moment there are considerably fewer than a hundred white women in the whole of Dakar. This is why the French intend to make every possible effort to put pressure on traders and employees of the Government to bring their wives here so that they can persuade other women to join their husbands overseas.”

  He paused but, as Kelda did not speak, he continued,

  “There will be plenty for them to do and the Governor-General himself is determined to set an example, which he is sure will be followed by a number of other Officials.”

  There was silence until Kelda asked in a voice little above a whisper,

  “How – how does he – intend to do – that?”

  “The Governor-General was widowed some years ago and intends to marry again,” Lord Orsett answered.

  He turned his head to look at Yvette.

  “I have given him my permission to pay his addresses to you, Yvette, and he will call on you tomorrow morning.”

  Yvette was obviously paralysed into immobility, but Kelda spoke for her.

  “The Governor-General? But surely he is an – old man?”

  “He is certainly somewhere between fifty and sixty years of age, but he is young at heart, healthy and most athletic and my niece will have a position not only of importance but one in which she can set an example that I know will have a resounding effect throughout the whole of France.”

  “Are you really expecting me to marry ‒ an old man and live in this ghastly ‒ uncivilised place?” Yvette asked.

  She was so shocked that the words seemed almost to splutter out from her lips and were barely coherent.

  “You will take a different view of Dakar when you have lived here for some time,” Lord Orsett replied, “and I really assure you that many women would welcome the opportunity of marrying such a distinguished man.”

  “Then let them have him!” Yvette cried and now her voice was hysterical. “I have no intention of marrying the Governor-General or of staying in Dakar and you cannot make me do so.”

  She had risen as she spoke and now she faced her uncle defiantly with her whole body quivering with the intensity of her feelings.

  “I think you are mistaken about that,” Lord Orsett said in a quiet voice. “I can and will make you do what I wish you to do. While I am your Guardian you are completely dependent on me until you come of age.”

  “If you think because of that you can force me into a marriage ‒ to a man I have never seen, a man who is old enough to be my father, you are very much mistaken.”

  Yvette drew a deep breath and added,

  “As it happens I was going to tell you tomorrow that I am engaged to Monsieur Rémy Mendès and I will marry no one – no one else but him.”

  Yvette’s voice rang out and, as if the mere mention of Rémy’s name gave her courage, she faced Lord Orsett defiantly and the colour came back into her cheeks.

  “And who is this Rémy Mendès?” Lord Orsett enquired.

  “As it happens he is Diplomatic Equerry to your precious Governor-General and when you meet him, you will understand that he is a very suitable husband for me and not a man with one foot in the grave.”

  “It is for me to decide whether or not he is suitable,” Lord Orsett retorted in a lofty tone. “Where did you meet him?”

  “Coming here on the ship.”

  “A shipboard romance? That is easily forgotten.”

  Lord Orsett spoke sneeringly and Kelda thought it was what she might have expected.

  “That is where you are mistaken,” Yvette parried, “I love Rémy with all my heart and he loves me.”

  “You are persuaded that your quite considerable fortune has nothing to do with it?”

  “That is the sort of thing you would think,” Yvette declared rudely. “Rémy’s father is an extremely rich man. He is also a member of the Chamber of Deputies. He will show you his credentials tomorrow. Then you can see for yourself what he is like.”

  “He need not waste his time,” Lord Orsett stated.

  “What do you mean by that?” Yvette asked.

  “I mean, to put it bluntly, that I have no intention of having my plans disrupted in any way. You will marry the Governor-General as I order you to do and we will have no more nonsense about impecunious suitors who, if your companion had been doing her job properly, she would not have been allowed him to approach you in the first place.”

  “You really think you can force this ridiculous idea on me,” Yvette demanded furiously.

  “I am quite sure I can,” Lord Orsett replied. “I have brought you here to be married and married you will be within the next three weeks. And make no mistake, if this unimportant Frenchman tries to communicate with you tomorrow or at any time while you are a guest in my house, I will deal with him in a manner that he will bitterly regret for the rest of his life.”

  Yvette lost her temper.

  “How dare you! How dare you threaten me, a citizen of France! You have no right in this country in the first place and you are both mad and bad, as everybody has said you are. If you think you can order me around as if I was a native servant, you are very much mistaken.”

  She stamped her foot as she finished,

  “I hate you, Uncle Maximus! I have always hated you. I would drown myself rather than let you do anything that you have just suggested.”

  As she spoke, almost screaming the last words at him, Yvette then turned and ran from the room.

  She left the door open and Kelda could hear her feet running down the corridor.

  She rose and, as she would have followed Yvette, Lord Orsett, who was still lying back comfortably in his chair, asked her,

  “Have you nothing to say, Miss Lawrence?”

  Kelda knew that he was speaking provocatively.

  She turned round to look at him, her eyes very large in her small face.

  “If you want the truth, my Lord, I think that what you have suggested is diabolical! It is flying in the face of nature for any man, however important socially, to play at being God.”

  Lord Orsett did not reply.

  He only glared at her and Kelda glared back at him.

  Without another word she turned around and left the room, also leaving the door open behind her.

  Chapter Four

  As Kelda went slowly up the stairs holding on to the banisters, she realised that she was trembling and her heart was thumping in her breast.

  She felt as if she, as well as Yvette, had passed through a traumatic experience that had left her both shaken and shocked.

  It just seemed to be inconceivable that Lord Orsett could have thought out anything quite so horrible, indeed as she had said ‘diabolical’, for someone as charming and sweet as Yvette.

  The fact that he had obviously not given any thought to his niece as a person but merely as a puppet to implement his plans made it so much worse.

  Everything Yvette had said about him seemed to Kelda to be an understatement of what he was really like.

  By the time she had reached the top of the stairs and turned along the corridor towards her bedroom, Kelda was thinking frantically not only of what she would now say to Yvette but what they could do.

  As she had expected, Yvette was lying face downwards on her bed, sobbing her heart out.

  She sat down on the bed beside her
and Yvette turned to fling her arms around Kelda saying as she did so,

  “Save me Kelda, oh, save me! You know I have to marry Rémy.”

  “Yes, I know,” Kelda said, “and that is why you must stop crying and we must try to see what we can do to circumvent your uncle’s wickedness.”

  She spoke so positively that Yvette’s tears stopped suddenly and she looked at Kelda questioningly.

  “You really mean you will help me?” she asked, a sob in her voice that was infinitely pathetic.

  “Of course I will help you,” Kelda said determinedly, “but we have to be clever about this. Remember where we are and how powerful your uncle is.”

  Yvette took her arms from around Kelda’s neck and sat back against the pillows.

  “I have never seen you like this before.”

  “Like what?” Kelda asked her absent-mindedly.

  “So strong and brave. I have always thought you were weak because you let yourself be bullied by Mrs. Gladwin.”

  “But now I am fighting not for myself but for you,” Kelda answered, “and that is a very different thing.”

  “And you think that you will be able to help me?”

  There was a desperation behind the question that Kelda was well aware of.

  “You know without my saying so that it is not going to be easy,” she replied, “but there is Rémy and the first thing we must do is to get in touch with him.”

  “But how? How?” Yvette asked. “You know Uncle Maximus is going to insult him and you can be quite certain that he will not allow him to write to me let alone see me.”

  “I have thought of that already,” Kelda said. “I cannot believe that Rémy will submit tamely to losing you and you will not only have to be courageous about this but clever and subtle as well.”

  “How ‒ can I?” Yvette asked. “Tell me ‒ what to do.”

  Kelda was silent for a moment, her eyes staring at the carving on the bedhead but not seeing it.

  Instead she saw the radiance on Rémy’s face and on Yvette’s that had been there when they looked at each other on board the ship and she had known that this was love as she had always thought it must be like if it was real and came from both the heart and the soul.