Fire in the Blood

by Barbara Cartland

  Now she did understand and, although what she thought of as her soul told her she had done what was right, her body cried out that she would never now know the meaning of love.

  The love that had made her mother run away with her father and which had made them blissfully happy in all the years they had been together.

  ‘That is the love I want,’ Pandia told herself, ‘but, when I held it in my hand, I let it go!’

  She felt the tears well in her eyes, but she would not let them fall.

  All the way to London she sat thinking of Lord Silvester and how much she loved him and at the same time felt that her mother was near her.

  She felt too she was telling her that she had done what was right and eventually, although it was hard to visualise it now, she would cease to regret it.

  As the carriage drew up outside the house in Grosvenor Square, the red carpet was rolled down the steps and the butler stood waiting to welcome her.

  “I’m glad to see you, my Lady,” he said. “We were all extremely worried last night in case your Ladyship had started out in the snow and got into difficulties on the road.”

  “Fortunately, because it was so bad, we never started,” Pandia replied, “but remained safe at the castle.”

  “That is good news, my Lady, very good news indeed!” the butler said.

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs he asked,

  “Would your Ladyship like to have luncheon upstairs in the boudoir?”

  “That would be very pleasant,” Pandia replied. “I am a little tired after the drive.”

  She paused and then she added,

  “Lord Silvester Stone will be calling at teatime.”

  “Very good, my Lady. Will you use the drawing room?”

  “Yes, please,” Pandia answered.

  As she went up the stairs, she felt a little surge of excitement at the thought of seeing Lord Silvester again and was certain that the drawing room would be the right background for her as he had thought the silver drawing room was last night.

  ‘I will see him again soon,’ she told herself.

  Her heart was singing as she hurried upstairs as if to make the time pass more quickly towards her bedroom.

  *

  Yvette was waiting for Pandia and, as soon as the door was closed behind her, the maid asked,

  “Everything all right, m’mselle?”

  “Everything was marvellous!” Pandia replied. “Except of course, as you know, the snow made it impossible to return last night.”

  “I worry in case you stranded.”

  “There were no difficulties,” Pandia assured her.

  Yvette helped her out of her coat saying,

  “I look out clothes you take home with you.”

  “It is very good of you,” Pandia answered.

  At the same time, as she spoke she had a sudden desire to say that as Selene had never thought of her in the past, she had no wish to accept anything from her now.

  Then she told herself that if she did that it would be very foolish, and she was quite certain anyway she would not be given anything that Selene wanted.

  As if she knew what she was thinking, Yvette said, “Madame have many, many gowns to wear. I want give to les pauvres – like charity call ‘Mrs Henderson’.” Pandia laughed. Then, as she had a sudden idea, she said,

  “Has her Ladyship a riding habit she does not want? I sometimes have a chance of riding one of the farmers’ horses at home and I have not only grown out of my habit, but it is threadbare!”

  “I not think of that,” Yvette said, “but there are two habits Madame say no good.”

  “Then please may I have them?” Pandia pleaded.

  “You leave to me,” Yvette replied. “Aussi some gowns, très jolies, très chic. Madame sometimes wear gown once, twice, then voilà, no more – she no like!” “That sounds very extravagant!”

  Yvette shrugged her shoulders in a typically French gesture.

  “Milord very rich! He like Madame be toujours belle!”

  “Of course she is!” Pandia exclaimed and then felt a little embarrassed as if in a way she was complimenting herself.

  Yvette started to undo her travelling gown as she did so,

  “Not right, m’mselle, you have such poor clothes and stay in country while Madame have everything!”

  Pandia was wondering how she could answer this when Yvette went on,

  “In France everyone in family very important – Grand-mère, Grand-père, tous les enfants. Always together very happy. I miss my family!”

  “I am sure you do,” Pandia said sympathetically, “just as I miss my father and mother.”

  “You all alone, m’mselle?”

  “Except for my old Nanny who has been with us ever since her Ladyship and I were born.”

  “That nice, m’mselle. But you très belle like Madame and you find a man. What you need, un homme et l’amour!”

  The way Yvette spoke told Pandia that that was certainly what she wanted and she said,

  “I hope, Yvette, that you will find a man who loves you, and who will marry you.”

  “Oui, oui! m’mselle. I save all my money and have large dowry. Easy in France find husband if one have big dowry.”

  “In which case, if I was in France,” Pandia said lightly, “I should have to remain an old maid, or as you say, ‘coiffer Sainte Catherine’.”

  Yvette gave a little cry.

  “Non, non, m’mselle not think of bad thing. You be married like Madame and have large family.”

  Pandia thought that was exactly what she wanted but would never have.

  Yet, when she went into the flower-scented boudoir where her luncheon was waiting for her, she thought again that while her sister had everything that was material to make her happy, she did not love the man she was married to and nor had she any children.

  Then, as Pandia ate a delicious meal cooked by an experienced chef and served to her by a butler and two footmen, she could not help thinking that Selene had not only tasted what her father would have described as the ‘flesh-pots of Egypt’ but she had also found love.

  True it was a love that was wrong, a love that would be described as a sin, yet still it was love.

  Was it better to love as the Gods had loved and found it an irresistible glory or to be alone without anything except memories?

  Pandia did not know the answer to this conundrum and she wondered if Lord Silvester would be able to give it to her.

  Chapter Six

  After luncheon Pandia, having changed into one of the prettiest gowns in Selene’s wardrobe, found that there was still some time before Lord Silvester would arrive.

  She therefore decided to explore the house and found it all very grand and impressive, recognising here and there little bits of her mother’s taste that Selene had copied.

  There were soft blends of colouring such as her mother had loved and had designed for the rooms in their small house in Little Barford.

  Selene had done exactly the same but much more grandly and expensively.

  Pandia thought that it was true that children unconsciously absorbed the environment in which they were brought up and, however much they might wish to escape, it always remained with them fundamentally.

  It was the sort of thing she would have liked to talk over with her father, knowing he would have many interesting ideas and be able to give examples from history of what they were discussing.

  When she thought of him, it was an agony to remember that, when she returned to the small house on the edge of the village, he would not be there.

  ‘What shall I do with myself?’ she asked.

  Then, being afraid to think of the future, she tried to concentrate on the pictures she saw in the dining room and the books that were in the Earl’s library.

  A quick glance told her that they were not the sort of books that really interested her.

  Most were autobiographies or biographies of Statesmen or rather dull-looking reports of s
peeches that had been made in the House of Lords or in the Parliaments in other parts of the Empire.

  She thought, however, that if she was married to somebody like the Earl who was obviously much involved in Government, she would make every effort to understand what interested him so as to be able to talk to him about it.

  Then she thought of what she did want to talk about and found herself glancing every few minutes at the clock, thinking that she had never known time move so slowly.

  At last when it was after four, she went into the drawing room to wait for Lord Silvester.

  It was certainly a room that was a perfect background for Selene and of course herself.

  The panelled walls were painted a very soft Nile blue and the cornice was picked out in gold.

  There was the inevitable glittering crystal chandelier hanging from the centre of the ceiling and crystal holders for the gas globes.

  They seemed somehow incongruous compared with the beauty of lighted candles, but as they were new and every fashionable house had been adapted for them, she was aware that Selene could not be behind the fashion.

  The furniture was French and of fine quality and there were many pieces of Sèvres and Dresden china which she knew would have pleased her mother.

  The curtains, chairs and sofas were of a deeper blue than the walls, while all the cushions and the flowers in the room were pink.

  She knew that with her white skin and with the glint of red in her hair she and Selene would look outstanding against such a background.

  She was glad therefore that she had chosen a gown that was very simple.

  At the same time it made her, she thought, a little shyly, look as if she had come down from Olympus.

  She thought impatiently that the clock must have stopped until at last, as the big hand reached the half-hour, the door opened.

  “Lord Silvester Stone, my Lady!” Bates intoned.

  As he came into the room, it was to Pandia as if a thousand lights lit up in the sky.

  He walked towards her and, as he did so, she thought she had forgotten how handsome and unusual he looked.

  She felt that he came to her like Apollo driving his chariot up the sky to sweep away the darkness of the night and she could almost see shafts of light emanating from him.

  She rose to her feet as he entered and when he was close to her they stood staring at each other and there was no need for words.

  They were speaking in the language of the Gods which was love.

  At last when a few seconds, or a century, had passed Pandia managed to say in a voice that was low and almost incoherent,

  “You – have come!”

  “Did you think I would forget?” Lord Silvester asked. There was silence and then he added,

  “How can you be a million times lovelier than when I last saw you? It seems utterly impossible that any woman could be so beautiful and still have her feet on the ground!”

  Pandia smiled and it brought a twinkle to his eyes.

  “I am sure you are thinking,” he said, “that I am being over-emotional and very un-English.”

  “Actually I was thinking you were being very Greek!” Pandia replied.

  They smiled at each other, then Lord Silvester held out the parcel he carried under his arm.

  “As I told you I would, I have brought you my book – as a tribute to lay at your feet.”

  She took it from him and then she asked,

  “May I open it now?”

  “I should be disappointed if you did not do so.”

  She sat down on the sofa and he sat beside her, watching her as she undid the ribbon with which the book was tied and unwrapped the paper.

  It was as she expected quite a thin volume.

  But she felt as she held it in her hands that it contained all the wisdom she longed for and which she and her father had tried to find.

  She saw the title was Lights in the Dark and she looked, at him for explanation.

  “It is very different from my last book,” he said, as if she had asked the question, “and again quite different from what I am writing now.”

  “I think this is much deeper,” she said. “Am I wrong?” “No, you are right, but I expect you cheated and read my thoughts.”

  “It will be very exciting to read it.”

  “I hope you will think so,” he replied. “I tried to write of all the people who have influenced the thoughts of those who have listened to them, Confucius, Buddha, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Christ, Mohammed and right up to modern thinkers such as Darwin.”

  “It sounds enthralling!”

  “I shall be very disappointed if you don’t think so. How soon will you be able to read it?”

  She looked at him enquiringly and he suggested,

  “Of course I want you to tell me your opinion of it, including any criticisms, before I leave England.”

  Pandia looked down at the book in her hand.

  She was wondering frantically how she could tell him that after today she would not be able to see him and that she must vanish into the darkness that she was certain he had described most eloquently in his book.

  Then, as if he could not wait for her answer, Lord Silvester asked,

  “Have you thought about me?”

  “It would be – difficult to think of anything – else.”

  “That is what I hoped,” he said. “Your face is always before my eyes and even when you are not there I feel you beside me.”

  Pandia felt as if he was expressing in his deep voice exactly what she too was feeling and could find no words for it.

  She knew that when she left him she would feel as if he was beside her and yet it would not be a joy, but an agony because he was lost to her forever.

  “What I want to ask you is this,” Lord Silvester began. He paused and then he demanded,

  “Look at me! I want to see your eyes! I want them to tell me what you think.”

  The way he spoke made Pandia quiver. She could feel the sensations he always aroused in her becoming stronger and stronger and once again the flicker of fire was there.

  She knew as they moved within her that she wanted him to kiss her, and she was afraid when he looked into her eyes that he would know exactly what she desired.

  Very slowly, although she was frightened, she obeyed him because it was impossible to do anything else.

  As she then raised her eyes to his, she was spellbound.

  She could see the fire blazing within him and, as something wild and wonderful leapt within her, she was drawn to him as if by a magical power that was irresistible.

  However much she might argue against it, she knew that just as he wanted her in his arms, that was where she longed to be.

  Even as she swayed towards him the door of the drawing room opened.

  “His Lordship has returned, my Lady!”

  Bates’s voice seemed to break in on what she was feeling as if he spoke from another world in a language that for the moment she did not understand.

  Then, as Pandia gave an audible gasp, an elderly man, very distinguished-looking with a moustache and almost white hair, came into the room.

  For a moment she felt as if she was turned to stone and could not move.

  Then, as he walked briskly down the room towards her, she and Lord Silvester rose to their feet and the Earl asked,

  “Are you surprised to see me, my dear? I managed to finish my business and get away early this morning instead of tomorrow!”

  He reached Pandia, put out his arms and pulled her towards him and kissed her cheek.

  As if some instinct manipulated her like a puppet, Pandia managed to say in a voice that did not sound like her own,

  “I am – surprised! Did you have a – good journey?” She thought as she spoke it sounded a very banal remark, but the Earl replied,

  “Not too bad! How are you, Silvester? I had no idea you were in this country!”

  “It’s delightful to see you, Cousin George!” Lord Silvester repl
ied. “And I am only, as you might say, ‘passing through’.”

  “Off again? God knows how you manage to enjoy yourself in all those outlandish places. Poor Doringcourt was saying the last time I saw him, how much he missed you at The Castle.”

  Without waiting for a reply, the Earl looked at Pandia and said,

  “I suppose you met Silvester at the funeral. I am sure, my dear, you found it very gloomy. I am sorry that I had to ask you to take my place.”

  “The snow made – everything rather difficult,” Pandia managed to reply.

  As she spoke, she realised that the Earl was not listening to her, but was looking towards the door where Bates and a footman were bringing in a tray on which there were a decanter of whisky and a soda syphon.

  “This is what I need,” he said in a hearty voice. “It was extremely cold crossing the Channel and the train was not heated as well as it might have been. I intend to write to the Chairman of the Southern Railway and tell him so!”

  Bates poured out a whisky and soda for the Earl, another footman brought in a tea table with the same elaborate amount of silver and profusion of delicacies as had been served at The Castle.

  “Will you join me in a drink, Sylvester?” the Earl asked, as if he had suddenly thought of it. “Or would you prefer partaking of what I always think of as a woman’s meal?”

  “I think on this occasion I would prefer a cup of tea,” Lord Silvester answered. “Then I must be going.”

  With difficulty Pandia bit back the cry that came to her lips.

  She could see by the expression in his eyes that he disliked seeing her with the man he thought of as her husband and was finding, as she was, that the spell that had joined them together had been roughly broken.

  ‘The only fortunate thing,’ Pandia thought, ‘is that the Earl seems to have no idea I am not Selene.’

  He had now seated himself on the other side of the fireplace and was saying briskly as he did so,

  “The weather in Paris was far better than here and I can say without conceit that mine was a very successful visit!”

  Because Lord Silvester did not say anything Pandia replied,

  “I am so glad it was – successful and you – managed to do whatever was expected of you so – quickly.”