In Search of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “I am surprised you have any hands left, the way they devour them,” Robert grumbled as they walked upstairs.

  “Oh, don't be so disagreeable,” she retorted. “I find their attentions charming.”

  She was pleased to find that the dress shop had delivered several items while she was away. She and her maid spent the next hour in delightful conference as to what she should wear for the evening.

  She finally decided on ivory silk, draped in the front in a manner that managed to be both modest and immodest. The neckline was of a respectable height, yet the drapery drew attention to her magnificent bosom.

  She completed her attire with long, dancing pearl earrings, such as could only be worn by a woman with a swanlike neck. More pearls adorned her neck and wrists and a pearl tiara crowned her hair. They were all perfectly matched, and actually more valuable than her diamonds.

  When Robert came to collect her, she had to admit to herself that he looked very smart in his formal white tie and tails.

  How handsome he was! But it was not just his looks, she realised, which drew her eyes. There was an extra 'something' about him, which made him different from all the other men.

  She could not precisely define it, but she knew it would make every woman look at him in admiration.

  But why should she care? She had plenty of admirers of her own.

  Robert nodded when he saw her.

  “Excellent,” he said. “The Paris Opera is a place of splendour and you will be able to make a grand entrance.”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” she said, concealing her disappointment behind an ironic manner. Surely he could have said something a little more personal?

  “Do you know,” she said, “I actually forgot to ask which opera it is.”

  “Does it matter? You are going to be seen, not to see. Your pearls alone proclaim that.”

  “Oh, these,” she said airily.

  “Yes, those. The famous Sudbury pearls, worth a king's ransom. You should receive at least three proposals on the strength of them.”

  “If you are daring to suggest that I would be so vulgar as to –”

  “Spare me your indignation. Your suitors may be impressed. I am not. Here's your fan, here's your purse. It is time we were going.”

  It was exactly the speech a brother might have made. Vanda had no choice but to take his arm and depart, seething.

  But her annoyance faded as they descended the stairs together. She knew they made a fine looking couple.

  To her surprise there were three people waiting. The Countess had decided to join them. She greeted Vanda charmingly, while her eyes flickered over the pearls. For Robert she produced a ravishing smile.

  “You don't mind if I squeeze into the box with you?” she cooed.

  It turned out that 'squeeze' was exactly the right word. With five of them the box was a tight fit, so that the Countess needed to sit very close to Robert, which seemed to trouble her not at all.

  Vanda refused to look at them. If he wanted to make a fool of himself by flirting with a married woman, that was no business of hers.

  The opera was Manon, by Massenet, the story of a woman of pleasure who fell in love but ultimately paid the price for her sins.

  In the interval the Countess was full of sentimental yearning.

  “How tragic,” she sighed. “But for all its sadness Manon is a great love story, don't you think?”

  She turned melting eyes on Robert.

  Vanda allowed herself to be drawn out into the corridor by her two cavaliers.

  She told herself that she was having a wonderful time, a time of champagne and romance. But somehow her heart was no longer in it. And her thoughts were directed behind the closed door of the box, where Robert and the Countess were alone together.

  “Shall we return?” she said at last. “I am sure it's very impolite for us to leave them alone for so long.”

  The lights were just dimming as they entered the box, so Vanda could not be quite sure whether Robert and the Countess had really been gazing into each other's eyes. She sat determinedly concentrating on the stage until the next interval.

  When the lights came on again, Robert rose to his feet and declared his intention of seeking the bar. The whole party left the box together and before long the Countess drifted away to talk to friends who had hailed her.

  François drew Vanda's hand through his arm and led her aside for a private talk, leaving Robert no refuge from Piero, who was determined to speak to him.

  “I am glad of this chance of a moment alone with you,” Piero said. “There are many urgent matters I must say to you.”

  “Really?” Robert replied in a cool tone that would have warned a more perceptive man. “I am surprised that you can spare the time from saying 'urgent matters' to Va – to my sister.”

  “Ah, you have noticed? Bene! I am glad, because it is about her that I must say urgent things to you. Never did I think to meet such a woman. It is incredible that she is still unmarried.”

  “She is a widow.”

  “Si, she has been telling me all about her beloved husband and their great tragedy. She says her heart is dead and I must ask you if you believe that is true.”

  “If her heart is – how the devil should I know?” Robert demanded, wild-eyed.

  “But you must know her better than anyone.”

  “I thought I did,” Robert muttered.

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing. Yes, I suppose I know her reasonably well.”

  After this there was a pause, during which Piero meditated on English coldness and Robert wondered how soon he could bring this interview to an end.

  At last Piero resumed,

  “Then you can, perhaps, tell me if it is too soon for her to love again?”

  “If it –? What does she say?”

  “Alas, she says nothing. She only laughs to hide her broken heart. But you are like a Papa to her, si?”

  “No,” the Earl answered firmly.

  Piero looked puzzled.

  “But you are the head of the house. You have authority. It is unthinkable that she would marry without your consent.”

  “My sister is not known for recognising any man's authority. Her husband had endless trouble with her, so be warned.”

  But Piero had evaluated the pearls and would not be warned.

  “Such a spirited lady,” he sighed.

  “That is as may be,” Robert said tersely, “but you should be aware that I consider it my duty to guard my sister from entanglements. Now I believe it is time for us to return to the performance.”

  The last act was a trial to everyone and each of them, for their own reasons, was relieved when the curtain finally came down and they were free to leave.

  The Countess was persistent in begging them to join her for supper. Robert and Vanda were equally resolute in refusing, leaving her with no choice but to drive them back to their hotel in her carriage, bid them goodnight, and drive away.

  “I think I shall order a large pot of tea,” Vanda suggested. “Will you join me?”

  “Gladly. Plain English tea will be a relief after the wild Latin passions of the evening.”

  “Yes, the music was very emotional, wasn't it?”

  “I wasn't referring to the music,” he said grimly.

  He joined her in her room half an hour later and they drank the first cup of tea in silence.

  “I thought you would have wanted to join the Countess for supper,” Vanda said. “The three of us could have made ourselves scarce.”

  “Thank you for that kind offer,” he said wryly. “I am glad you didn't.”

  “But why?” Vanda asked. “Surely you enjoyed her company this evening?”

  “To a certain extent,” Robert replied. “But she is a little too determined to overwhelm me.”

  “Yes, I noticed that. What would her husband say?”

  “Nothing. I imagine he's glad. She has given him three sons and a daughter, so if she now chooses to
lead her own life, it leaves him free to lead his.”

  Vanda was silent for a moment. Then she remarked,

  “Of course that is nothing new. There are couples who live that way in London. I have met them, and I am sure that you have. As long as they are discreet, Society thinks nothing of it. But it would not suit me.”

  “Nor me. When I marry I shall expect my wife to be as faithful to me as I shall be to her.”

  “You say that now,” Vanda said with a slightly teasing note. “But when your nursery is full, both you and she might be glad to follow their example and lead separate lives.”

  “Never,” he said fervently.

  Vanda chuckled. “So you did not enjoy the Countess's 'wild Latin passions'. I wish I knew what she said to you.”

  “You never will,” he replied coldly. “And I was not just referring to her. Piero was asking me all sorts of questions about you. If I am not mistaken he plans a proposal and wanted to know if I would agree.”

  Vanda gave a small choke that ended in a giggle.

  “Yes?” he asked in a dangerous voice.

  “Did you give your consent?” she asked in a muffled voice.

  “I left the matter open. There was very little else I could do since I didn't know exactly what stories you had been telling him. He cannot keep his eyes off your pearls, but I have a feeling it is more than that. Was your late husband a millionaire by any chance?”

  Vanda made a vague gesture.

  “I may have gilded the lily a little bit.”

  “A little bit? Enough to make him want to marry you. I have always warned you that your tongue would get you into trouble.”

  “But it is so easy. You just have to refuse him on my behalf.”

  “Oh, no,” he said hastily. “I want no part in this. You can tell him yourself. That will teach you to be more careful next time.”

  “I cannot believe that my dear brother would decline to protect me,” she said with a melancholy sigh.

  “Any more of your games, miss, and your 'dear brother' will decline to have anything further to do with you. And don't laugh. It isn't funny.”

  “It is,” she said. “It is terribly funny. I wish I could have seen your face when Piero was talking to you.”

  He grinned.

  “He wanted to know if it was true that your heart was dead after your great tragedy.”

  “Robert, he never said that!”

  “He did, I swear it. I don't know how I kept a straight face. Then he said he was sure you would never marry without my consent, as I stood in the position of your father.”

  Vanda burst out laughing and Robert joined in.

  “I told him he was mistaken,” he said in a shaking voice. “I am not in the least like your father.”

  “No, you are not,” she responded firmly.

  And suddenly the laughter stopped and a nervous silence fell between them. For he was definitely not her father.

  “Goodnight,” he said, rising hurriedly and leaving the room.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  For the Fontellac Ball, Vanda chose diamonds, because they looked so well with the black velvet gown she was wearing.

  “You will be the attraction for all eyes,” Robert told her. “A woman of mystery, romance and great wealth. That is the idea, isn't it?”

  “You can make fun of me if you like,” she huffed. “I don't care.”

  “When I think of what your scheming could involve me in, I have no desire to laugh,” he told her darkly.

  He was dressed as he had been the night before and looked so handsome that Vanda told herself it was positively unfair.

  A carriage took them to the Fontellac estate which lay just outside Paris. From a distance the Chateau came into view, blazing with lights in the dusk. Strains of music reached them faintly.

  Carriage after carriage was entering the huge wrought iron gates and proceeding up the long drive.

  As they drew up outside the entrance a powdered footman stepped forward and let down the carriage steps. Robert handed Vanda down, and together they walked to where the lights beckoned them.

  The Countess greeted Vanda with a kiss, while her eyes flickered over her, checking her jewels. Then all her attention was for Robert and the luxurious smile she gave him made it only too clear that she regarded him as a potential lover.

  As Vanda entered the ballroom a footman handed her a dance card, in which she would enter the names of her partners. Piero and François immediately scribbled their names in it and would have taken every dance if Robert had not intervened.

  “No more than two dances with the same gentleman, sister dear,” he said smoothly. “Give the others a chance.”

  “You are right,” she agreed. “It will make for more variety.”

  “But you must start the evening with champagne,” François said, positioning himself on one side of her.

  “That's what I was going to say,” Piero protested, stationing himself on the other side.

  “Well I said it first!”

  “Hush,” Vanda reproved them. “You can both supply me with champagne.”

  They applauded this idea and the two of them went off together.

  After that she was never short of admiring company. Gentlemen crowded around her, paying her compliments, exclaiming over her beauty. Only a few were vulgar enough to glance too obviously at her magnificent jewels.

  The whole evening seemed to spin around her in a haze of magical blur. She had never enjoyed a ball so much. The only disappointment was that Robert did not ask her to dance with him.

  Of course, that might be difficult, since he was officially her brother, she reasoned. But she could not prevent her eyes lingering on him, as he whirled by with some beauty in his arms.

  Too often that beauty was the Countess.

  'Only two dances indeed!' she thought crossly. 'I am sure that must be their third.'

  Their hostess was resplendent with feathers in her hair and a vast array of jewels. There were so many of them it was difficult to see her beneath them.

  Vanda was not really surprised when she overheard a lady commenting to a gentleman,

  “Our hostess glitters like a Christmas tree. I wonder who paid for all those costly baubles she is wearing.”

  “I doubt if you could count a list as long as that,” came the sarcastic answer.

  The lady laughed.

  “I have always heard that she expects her lovers to pay up in one way or another. The jewels she wears now are to impress us with how many lovers she has had, and is still having.”

  There was no doubt from her scathing tone that she was jealous. She was regarding her companion possessively, as though afraid that he might be the next on the Countess's list.

  But he did not see her look. His eyes were on the Countess.

  Vanda lost track of her own partners. They all gazed at her with hot eyes. Some tried to hold her improperly close and one of them murmured,

  “You are adorable. It intoxicates me to be so close to you. Why don't we slip away upstairs, so that I can show you how much closer I want to get?”

  After a moment's shock, Vanda remembered how she had seen couples leaving the ballroom together and not returning.

  With a sudden frisson of alarm she twisted her head until she could see Robert. To her relief he and the Countess were still dancing in plain sight.

  “Let us go,” urged her partner, trying to ease her towards one of the doors.

  Vanda realised that she was supposed to be a widow, and therefore an experienced woman of the world, adept at these situations.

  But she was not going to allow herself to be spoken to like this. A moment later the man gave a yelp of anguish as a sharp heel dug into his foot.

  “I am so sorry,” she said sweetly. “I cannot think how I came to be so clumsy.”

  He gave her a fractured smile and limped painfully away.

  The dance had not finished, so now she could enjoy a few moments to herself. It was a good ch
ance to escape.

  Nearby she spotted a pair of French windows standing open and hurried through them into the garden. It was wonderful to be courted and admired by so many men, but for the moment she needed a rest from them all.

  The grounds were full of enchantment. Lamps hung from the trees, half illuminating shady paths that vanished into darkness.

  It was a night for love, but only if the right man had been with her.

  “Signora!”

  Vanda winced at the sound of Piero's voice. Definitely he was not the right man. She had enjoyed flirting with him, but his endless compliments and declarations were beginning to pall.

  A compliment from a man who never normally paid them, now that would be thrilling. Unfortunately there seemed little chance of it happening.

  “Signora,” Piero cried again.

  Vanda turned and smiled at him, spreading her fan and holding it in front of her like a shield.

  “Ah, you run away to tease me,” he breathed.

  “No, I came here for some fresh air.”

  “The moon is beautiful, si? But not as beautiful as you. It is a night for love, la bella notte when we can be true to our hearts – what did you say?”

  “Nothing,” she said hastily.

  In fact she had muttered, “Heavens, not again!”

  To make up for her rudeness, Vanda gave him a charming smile. It was a mistake.

  “How it warms my heart when you smile at me,” he declared.

  “Piero –”

  “No, I must speak. Too long I have kept silent. Since the moment I met you I have loved you. I am mad with love, on fire with love, I dream of you all the time –”

  He continued in this vein for some time, while Vanda tried not to laugh. Far from inspiring her romantically, Piero now seemed merely foolish.

  “I wish you would not talk like that,” she said.

  “But how else am I to prove my devotion?”

  “You do not need to. I believe you.”

  “Then you will marry me?”

  “I did not say that.”

  “But you cannot refuse me,” he cried passionately.

  “Yes I can,” she retorted in her most brisk and businesslike voice. “And I do.”

  “Ah, mio Dio! Voglio morire.”