The Tree of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “I have done such a lot at home, including nursing my parents, but I cannot think of any special talent I have like dancing or singing that could earn money.”

  The Duke thought that this was certainly true as at present Paris was filled with many artistes of the greatest talent and all of them anxious to gain his approval and that of the many foreign diplomats in the City –

  He was thinking of all the people he knew and was wondering if any of them would be likely to oblige him.

  He recognised that the most charming of his female acquaintances were all besotted with him and they would therefore not be prepared to accept an exceedingly pretty young English girl as their guest.

  Alternatively if she were found staying in his house, it would undoubtedly ruin her reputation.

  Because Shenda was aware that he was finding her a difficulty, she suggested,

  “Perhaps, Your Grace, I should stay – in some quiet lodging house whilst you consider – my father’s request.”

  The Duke did not have to look at her.

  He realised that with her young attractive face and exquisite pink and white skin, every Frenchman she came across would pursue her and inevitably frighten her.

  “I was just thinking,” he said, trying to reassure her, “that it should not be difficult to find somewhere for you to stay and something interesting for you to do.

  “Paris at present is filled with people from every European country who have all suffered under Napoleon. I will, I feel sure, find you something that you will enjoy doing. Equally you must stay with someone I can trust to take care of you.”

  “You are so kind – and it is wonderful of you not to send me away at once,” Shenda enthused, “but I don’t want to be an encumbrance on you in any way.”

  “We have to think about this in a practical manner. First, as you have been travelling, I am sure that you would like something to eat and drink.”

  “That is most thoughtful of you, Your Grace.”

  She was really too agitated to want anything.

  But she knew that the Duke was taking his time to mull over the problem she had brought to him.

  He rang the bell and when the equerry appeared, he told him,

  “Miss Linbury is tired after travelling all day and I suggest that she has what the chef will undoubtedly call an ‘English tea’ in the salon.”

  The equerry smiled.

  “I will order it at once, Your Grace.”

  “Now tell me a bit more about yourself,” the Duke asked Shenda, “and why everything has gone so wrong on your estate.”

  “I think everything started to go wrong after Mama died. Papa was too upset after her death and then too ill to cope with the difficulties the war brought to us all.”

  The Duke sighed.

  “The war! It is always the war. But now at last I am determined that we will have peace. To make sure of it, as you have doubtless heard, we are imposing an Army of Occupation on France, although it might be difficult to keep the men under control when there is no fighting.”

  “I have read about it in the newspapers.”

  “I will, of course, be doing a lot of entertaining, but it would not be proper for you to stay as my guest in this house.”

  He did not add, although he thought it, that it was going to be somewhat difficult to be rid of the attractive Madame Grassini.

  He was being honest with himself and he knew that Madame Grassini was well aware that he was looking with more interest at the other women who approached him.

  Nothing was said and yet she would already realise instinctively that he was not so completely bemused by her as he had been at the beginning of their affair.

  She still thrilled him and because he knew he meant a great deal to her, it was going to be hard to break it off.

  He had never been able to disappear at the end of his affairs without tears and broken hearts, although quite a number of his mistresses remained close friends.

  It was impossible for the Duke not to think of Lady Georgiana Lennox, whom he had met in 1806 on his return from India. He wrote to her every week when they were not together.

  She was exactly the sort of woman he could trust to love him forever and yet she never reproached him.

  Only this May she had ridden with him to a Review of the Brunswick Troops and it had rained heavily and she had returned to Paris wearing a soldier’s greatcoat.

  The Duke had presented Georgiana with a portrait of himself – an original miniature by a Belgian artist.

  She had come to Paris and he knew he would have to spend a great deal of time with her.

  As she loved him so much, she had delayed getting married and she was still refusing offer after offer simply because of her adoration for him.

  As he ruminated, the Duke found this new problem more and more difficult.

  How could he protect this young girl, while at the same time not neglecting women like Georgiana who loved him to distraction?

  There were four Parisian theatres where the Duke had his own box every night – they were the Grand Opera, Le Francais, le Fédeau and des Variétés.

  It had been arranged that the Duke was to attend the Grand Opera tonight and he wondered whether he should take Shenda with him.

  Then he guessed that it would be a mistake.

  Everyone there would be quite certain that she was his latest affaire-de-coeur!

  That would prejudice her relationship with the more particular hostesses in Paris, especially as he had suffered so often from jealousy amongst his admirers.

  The British Government had recently paid the sum of eight hundred thousand francs for a new Embassy that bordered on the Champs Élysées.

  He supposed that Shenda might stay there, but the Embassy was not yet complete and he was not sure whom he could trust to chaperone her.

  ‘It’s such an impossible situation,’ he told himself angrily.

  Then he realised Shenda was looking at him with a concerned expression in her eyes.

  “If I am a nuisance, Your Grace, when you are so wonderful and have done such marvels for England, I must go home. I am afraid very stupidly I let my courier leave without telling me where I can find him in Paris.”

  “No! No, of course not,” the Duke said hurriedly. “Your father has sent you to me and because I had a great affection for him I must respect his wishes. It’s just taking me a little time to reflect on where you would be happiest and what you would find most interesting to do.”

  “Maybe there is a hospital where I can work. Then I will not have to trouble you with my accommodation.”

  He stared at her and then suddenly he had an idea.

  It came to him, he thought, almost as if it was a gift from God at a moment when he most needed it.

  Quite the most remarkable and exceptional Officer under his command at the Battle of Waterloo had been the Marquis of Kenworth.

  The Duke had met him in London, when he was a young man of twenty-eight and he had stayed at Hatfield House when he too had been a guest of the Salisburys.

  A tall handsome young man, he had been pursued by ambitious mothers for their daughters – and because he was so good-looking by a number of married ladies.

  The Duke had spoken to him on various occasions and the Marquis told him that he had a very large estate in the country to look after, together with an ancestral home that had been in his family for many generations.

  He decided against joining the smarter Regiments already on active service on the Continent and instead he had become an Officer in the Household Brigade, which for the moment was posted in England.

  “When you feel like going to war, Ivan,” the Duke had said, “I will of course welcome you with open arms.”

  The Marquis, who had only just come into the title, smiled at him.

  “You are most gracious, sir, and I will not forget your generosity.”

  He had not said anything more and the Duke had not thought of him again.

  Then, ju
st before the Battle of Waterloo, when he was short of men and aware that Napoleon had collected a larger Army than his, the Marquis turned up in Brussels.

  One look at him told the Duke that he was worried about something.

  “It is delightful to see you again, Ivan,” he had said holding out his hand.

  The Marquis however waited till the door was shut behind him and then he muttered,

  “I have arrived here incognito, sir, and my name is Worth. Just plain Mr. Ivan Worth with no title.”

  The Duke had stared at him in astonishment, before enquiring,

  “Why? What has happened?”

  “I have no wish to talk about it, but you promised me if I needed help you would give it to me, sir. Well, now I am begging you on my knees to keep your promise.”

  “Of course I will, Ivan, sit down and tell me what has happened and why you are now incognito.”

  “I have left England because I am disgusted with the behaviour of certain people there,” Ivan said slowly. “I wish to fight under you, but not using my own name.”

  The Duke found all this somewhat perplexing.

  However, he was used to strange proposals –

  “Very well, tell me what you want and I will try to make it possible.”

  “I wish to be under your command in your Army,” he replied, “and I will accept the rank of Lieutenant so that I am just a junior Officer and no more.”

  “Very well. If that is your wish, I will give you that rank, but it seems rather strange that as you are already a Captain in the Household Brigade, you should want to go down the ladder rather than up it!”

  “I have disappeared from England, sir, for reasons that would not particularly interest you, but they have upset and disgusted me. My only request now is that you accept me in your Army and allow me to fight with all my strength and might against Napoleon Bonaparte.”

  The Duke thought it sounded rather like a drama on the stage, but he was not prepared to argue.

  He was far too busy at that very moment to think of anything but the battle that lay ahead, and at the same time an extra Officer was always welcome when he was quite convinced that Napoleon’s Army was larger than his own.

  He sent Ivan to a Cavalry Regiment and was glad to learn that he had brought his uniform with him, as well as his own batman who would count as another soldier for the forthcoming battle.

  Lieutenant Ivan Worth had indeed proved himself an outstanding Officer in a way the Duke had not actually expected. He had managed to hold off a French attack on a key position with the French retreating having lost at least double the number of casualties as the English.

  The Duke had been told how Ivan had encouraged the troops under him and they managed to drive off another French attack by making it appear that they were much stronger than they actually were.

  It was, however, unfortunate that, at the very hour of victory, Lieutenant Ivan Worth had been badly wounded in the shoulder by a bullet fired by a sniper.

  He had been carried unconscious and bleeding from the battlefront.

  The Duke felt rather responsible for him and knew that he could well afford it, so he had not left him with the other wounded when he travelled to Paris.

  He had taken Ivan Worth, now raised to the rank of Captain, with him and settled him in a comfortable house in the Faubourg St. Honoré in one of the smartest and most expensive parts of Paris.

  The house belonged to a French Vicomte, who was sheltering in the South of France from the ravages of the war and it was therefore unoccupied.

  The Duke had given orders that Captain Worth was to be installed there and had arranged that nurses should be provided for him and no expense spared.

  The Duke’s orders were carried out to the letter and Ivan was attempting to regain his strength.

  When the Duke had called on him two days ago, he was told that the doctors were pleased with his progress, although he would doubtless have to remain convalescent for quite some time yet.

  “The only difficulty, Your Grace,” his batman told the Duke, “is that the Captain ’as taken a big dislike to the nurses provided and keeps dismissin’ them.”

  The Duke had looked at the man in surprise.

  “Why should he do that, Higgins?”

  The batman had looked over his shoulder almost as if he felt someone was listening, before replying,

  “His Lordship – I means the Captain – ’ad a real unfortunate experience afore he left London.”

  The Duke raised his eyebrows.

  “With a lady?”

  The man nodded.

  “He’d be ever so angry, Your Grace, if he knew I’d told you. It was someone who he were a-’opin’ to marry, but they quarrelled.”

  The Duke was now beginning to realise why Ivan had come to him and wished to fight in the war.

  “Tell me more, Higgins,” he demanded.

  “As you can imagine, Your Grace, I weren’t told much myself. But I know’s there been a terrible row ’tween him and Lady Helen Oswald. When ’er walked out of the ’ouse, I packs up and we comes to you.”

  The Duke had suspected that the reason for Ivan’s sudden appearance had something to do with a woman.

  ‘Who else,’ he had asked himself, ‘could cause so much havoc to a sensible young man?’

  “What I really thinks,” continued Higgins, “is that ’is Lordship now ’ates all women. He took a big dislike to those what were bandagin’ him. Two of them tell me they won’t come again whatever the doctors might say!”

  It now occurred to the Duke that here was indeed a respectable house where Shenda could stay.

  If she was there as a nurse, she would not require a chaperone.

  There would certainly be no necessity for one when her patient was too ill to think of love and apparently had a personal dislike of the female sex anyway.

  Shenda was sitting upright looking at the Duke with nervous eyes.

  He smiled at her.

  “It is all right, Miss Linbury, I have solved your problem and I hope that you will find the work I am giving you will be interesting.”

  “What is it, Your Grace?”

  “I want you to nurse a young Officer, who has been seriously wounded and who is in a very comfortable house I found for him in the Faubourg St. Honoré.”

  “Do you want me to take care of him?”

  “But, of course. He needs a nurse and, as you say you have nursed your father and mother, I am sure you will find no difficulty in carrying out what the doctors require.”

  Shenda gave a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you, thank you so very much, Your Grace. I knew you would not fail to help me, and, of course, I will feel it an honour and a great privilege to help anyone who has fought so bravely at Waterloo.”

  “I am here if you need me,” the Duke said. “In the meantime I will take you there and I am sure you will be very comfortable.”

  “Thank you, thank you,” Shenda repeated. “I think you must be the most marvellous man in the world as you seem to solve everyone’s problem. The newspapers have been full of praise for you and I will add to their tributes by saying that I too have found you to be very wonderful.”

  The Duke smiled.

  He was thinking of how the Czar had said to him when Napoleon had reappeared in France from Elba,

  “It is up to you to save the world once again – ”

  It was what he had tried to do and, with God’s help, he had been victorious at Waterloo.

  But now, as if the cap had been set on him, he was obliged to solve the problems of almost everyone he came into contact with.

  ‘I have done it once again,’ he murmured to himself as he rose to his feet.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Duke drove from the Champs Élysées into the Place de la Concorde with Shenda sitting beside him.

  “Now I must explain to you,” he began, “all about your patient.”

  Shenda turned to him and became attentive.

&nb
sp; “I am led to believe,” the Duke said slowly as if he was considering every word, “that Captain Ivan Worth was deeply upset by a woman before he was wounded in battle. He is therefore, I understand, somewhat difficult with his nurses – and he may not be too pleased to see you.”

  “I expect that is due to his wounds, Your Grace. I know my mother told me about women who hated their husbands anywhere near them after an accident or quarrel. He probably doesn’t like feeling so weak and helpless.”

  “That is exactly what I thought,” the Duke agreed with some satisfaction. “I hope therefore you will be able to persuade him that his wound has come from the French guns and has nothing to do with the female sex.”

  Shenda laughed as it sounded rather funny and then she asked him in a different tone,

  “Is he very badly wounded?”

  “He was hit in the shoulder and, of course, as it was not attended to immediately on the battlefield, his wound was very painful and septic by the time he could reach the Military Hospital and receive proper attention.

  “But I can certainly assure you that Captain Worth was exceedingly brave and I have recommended him for a medal – which I will make certain he is awarded.”

  Shenda drew in her breath.

  It seemed to be very exciting to be asked to treat a hero of the Battle of Waterloo.

  As they drove on, she remarked,

  “It must have been very upsetting for you to lose so many men even though you were the victor, Your Grace.”

  The Duke turned to look at her.

  “I only pray that we never have to go to war again. Any man who saw those young bodies lying about after the battle was over and the terrible slaughter of horses, would do everything in his power to prevent any war.”

  There was a tone of pain in his voice that Shenda found very moving and she added quickly,

  “Now you have really defeated Napoleon, my father believed it would mean peace for at least fifty years.”

  “I am sure your father was right and I will certainly pray that it may be extended to at least a hundred years.”

  As he was speaking their carriage was climbing up the road that led into the Faubourg St. Honoré.

  They came to a halt outside an impressive mansion and she thought, although it would be a mistake to say so, that Captain Worth must be a rich man.