The Tree of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  Ivan inspected it more carefully.

  He knew the emerald itself was exceptional and one of the finest stones he had ever seen.

  He bought it, took it to Bond Street and told them to set it as it should be, but he did not tell Helen about his find.

  That evening she enquired delicately,

  “When am I going to see the ring you promised me, Ivan and then we can announce our engagement?”

  “Give me two more days,” Ivan had answered her. “Then I shall have a surprise for you.”

  “I am really longing to see it.”

  That night at the ball they were attending there was a new arrival in London.

  It was the young Duke of Sutherland from Scotland and he was, everyone was told, the owner of a vast amount of land and one of the finest castles in the country.

  He was handsome and charming and Helen found him to be a good dancer.

  Because this particular ball was being given by one of their relatives, Ivan’s mother, although still in mourning, made a great effort to be present.

  As he loved his mother very much and wanted her to enjoy herself, Ivan spent a great deal of time at her side.

  He had actually noticed that Helen seemed to be dancing several times with the young Duke of Sutherland, and as she appeared to be quite happy without his attention, he concentrated on his mother.

  The following day he was too busy with his Army duties to call on Helen and it was only after luncheon that he was able to get away from the Officers’ Mess.

  He then hurried himself over to her parents’ house in Berkeley Square – it was just across the Square from the house he owned himself.

  He had hoped the engagement ring he had taken so much trouble over would have been ready by now, but he received a message from the shop saying they were putting on the finishing touches and that it would be with him the next morning.

  He thought how pleased Helen would be when she opened the velvet-lined box to view her engagement ring.

  ‘Then we can announce our engagement,’ reflected Ivan, ‘and we will be married inside the month.’

  When Ivan reached Helen’s home, the butler, who knew him well, wished him good day as he entered and a footman took his top hat and cane.

  “Her Ladyship is in the drawing room, my Lord,” the butler intoned.

  “There is no need to announce me,” Ivan responded and ran up the stairs.

  He opened the drawing room door – and then, as he entered the room, he stood transfixed at what he saw at the far end by the bay window.

  Helen’s parents entertained frequently in their large drawing room, but there were only two people there now.

  As they were standing together by the window, they were silhouetted against the sunshine streaming in.

  Ivan saw to his horror that Helen was in the Duke’s arms and he was kissing her.

  For a second he did not move and then, feeling rage moving up within him, he walked slowly towards them.

  He had almost reached them before they became aware of his presence.

  Then Ivan spoke and his voice was like a whiplash,

  “What on earth is happening? What the devil are you doing?”

  He was addressing the Duke, who had then raised his head, but had not taken his arms from around Helen.

  “I am afraid, Kenworth,” he crowed, “I have beaten you to the post – and Helen has promised to be my wife.”

  “She can do nothing of the sort,” Ivan then retorted furiously. “She is engaged to me.”

  “She has no ring to prove it,” answered the Duke.

  “If you don’t get out of this house immediately,” Ivan raged, “I will knock you down.”

  As he spoke Helen moved forward and put her hand on his shoulders.

  “You are not to be angry, Ivan, dear. I am sorry if I have hurt you, but I want to marry Ewen.”

  “But you are engaged to me, Helen, your ring will be ready tomorrow and we have planned our wedding.”

  “I am sorry, very sorry, but Ewen has asked me to be his wife and that is what I wish to be.”

  “All I can say is that I think you are a cheat and a liar!” screamed Ivan. “You told me you loved me and I believed you, but all you are looking for is a top-notch title – and that is all you are getting from Sutherland!”

  “Now you are being offensive, Ivan.”

  “I intend to be. I consider that you have behaved abominably, in fact quite outrageously in letting me think you loved me when all you were doing was trying to grab a title that would impress your friends.”

  He spoke so scathingly and for a moment his voice seemed to echo round the large room.

  Then the Duke came in somewhat uncomfortably,

  “That’s quite enough, Kenworth. I cannot have you shouting in such a rude manner at my fiancée.”

  “Your fiancée. She was mine until you came along, and, of course, you are just a trifle higher up the Social tree even if you are a Scot.”

  The Duke clenched his fist at this insult and Ivan did the same.

  Then Helen stepped between them.

  “I will not have you fighting over me. Do go away, Ivan, and try to behave decently like a gentleman over this, if you are capable of it!”

  “Decently! If you call your behaviour decent, I call it low and disgusting and you should be ashamed of yourself.”

  It was then that Helen lost her temper.

  “How dare you be rude to me!” she shouted. “Get out of my house and let me tell you that no girl would want to marry you if it was not for your miserable title!”

  For a moment they faced each other and then Ivan turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  He would have left without his hat if a footman had not pressed it into his hand.

  Then he reached the street and started to walk back to his own house, realising that Helen had struck a major blow not only at his heart but also at his dignity.

  All London would be sniggering tonight at the story of how he had been swept out by the Duke.

  There were a number of women he had taken little interest in who would be delighted to see him humiliated.

  It was then and there that he decided that he would not stop to hear their laughter or their sniggers.

  He wrote a note to his Colonel saying he wished to resign from the Regiment because he had decided to leave England to join the Duke of Wellington’s Army in France.

  “I can no longer stand aside,” he wrote, “while so many men whom I know and admire are facing the greatest menace the world has ever known.”

  Before dark that very evening he and Higgins were aboard his private yacht at the Port of Tilbury.

  “From now on I will no longer be using my title,” he instructed Higgins. “You will address me as ‘sir’ and to the world I am merely ‘Lieutenant Ivan Worth’.”

  Because he had known him for some years, Higgins said nothing, but, as he was so fond of his Master, he had cursed Lady Helen and wished her bad luck.

  A short while later the sails went up the masts and the yacht moved out into the English Channel.

  Looking back Ivan could remember all too clearly his feelings as they sailed towards the French coast.

  *

  The Duke of Wellington had accepted him and he was immediately involved in the preparations for the battle.

  Only then did he feel the pain and humiliation of all that had happened to him begin to gradually ebb away.

  He told himself, however, that he loathed women – all women.

  Like Helen they were interested only in what a man could give them, not the man himself.

  ‘I will never love a woman again,’ he told himself.

  When the fighting in France began, he felt strongly that every Frenchman he shot down represented the woman he desperately wished to erase from his life forever.

  Then he was wounded in the shoulder and finally taken by the Duke of Wellington to Paris and installed in th
e comfortable house in the Faubourg St Honoré.

  There he had hated all the nurses and all the doctors provided for him.

  As he was rich, he was able to have a nurse on duty during the day and another at night. They were to attend him as if he was someone very precious, which indeed he was as the Duke’s protégé.

  The difficulty was, however, that the moment the nurses came into his bedroom, he instantly felt aggressive.

  It was impossible for him even to look at them and to hear their voices made him think of Helen.

  He became so disagreeable that they refused to go on nursing him and, when he heard that they had left, he was delighted!

  Yet he was forced to admit that the doctors made his wound seem even more painful and they were certainly rougher when they bandaged him than the nurses were.

  What he wanted above all was to get well.

  He was aware, although he hated to admit it, that his shoulder was considerably less painful since this new nurse had treated it.

  But he did not want to think of her as a woman.

  Therefore when she came to treat his arm, he closed his eyes and pretended he was asleep.

  *

  Shenda was delighted at all Higgins had brought back to her – they were not by any means all the items on her list – yet there were enough to make up her mother’s healing cream that had been famous in the village and the County for so many years.

  She started to mix the leaves together as the chef regarded her scornfully.

  She was not surprised to find that there were only male staff in the kitchen and, with the exception of the two old housemaids, there were no other women in the house.

  Some of the leaves were rather dried up and others seemed too small to be useful.

  Then she steamed the leaves until they made what the chef thought appeared to be a nasty smelly mess that would not help anyone.

  However, Shenda allowed it to cool and added just a few berries to it and then the chef had to admit that it smelt better than the horrible grease Higgins had been using on his Master’s shoulder.

  When Shenda added a little honey, it looked quite palatable.

  “Now I have something extra special to add,” she announced in her best French, “which I was terrified would not be available in Paris.”

  “What is that, mademoiselle?” the chef asked.

  “These leaves are from the ancient Maidenhair tree and I know that they will make your Master feel better than he has ever felt.”

  The chef laughed.

  “You can’t tell me a few leaves will do that.”

  “You will be very surprised. If I am right, I expect you to make a delicious cake that will undoubtedly put several inches around my waist, but it will be worth it!”

  “That I promise to do, mademoiselle. At the same time I just don’t believe those little leaves have any magic about them.”

  “You wait and see – ”

  She had almost despaired of finding the leaves of the Maidenhair tree in Paris, as Higgins had told her he had difficulty in finding it as it had a different name in France.

  “Ginkgo it be, or somethin’ like it,” he muttered.

  “Oh, that is the Chinese name for it,” she cried.

  “Well, when I makes such a big fuss, they sends for the manager. He spoke better English than them lot and he understands what I wants.”

  “Thank Heavens for that!”

  The pulp of Maidenhair leaves provided a cure her mother had always believed passionately in and had used dozens of times.

  People, who were distressed and miserable, perhaps at losing someone they loved, recovered almost overnight.

  Again there was a touch of honey to give it a sweet taste, but actually the leaves themselves were small, juicy and had a sweet smell of their own.

  It was all prepared and the cream, which was to be applied to the Captain’s shoulder, had set.

  Shenda carried her concoctions upstairs and placed them on a table in the passage outside the Master suite.

  Then she waited for Higgins to inform her when it would be all right for her to enter the room.

  She could hear him talking to the Captain, who was answering him in monosyllables.

  ‘He is still feeling sorry for himself,’ she thought, ‘and this will certainly make a difference, but naturally he will not believe me.’

  Finally after she had waited for nearly five minutes, Higgins opened the door.

  She entered without speaking, as she knew her voice would upset and annoy her patient.

  As she approached the bed, she saw him shutting his eyes and she knew he was pretending to himself that she was not there.

  Very gently she carefully undid the bandages on his shoulder from the night before, and when she had removed the linen over his wound she saw that the inflammation had definitely subsided.

  Most of the red burning colour had gone.

  She just longed to ask the Captain to look at it and to see what had happened, but she was wise enough not to say anything.

  She just cleaned his wound gently with warm water and a soft sponge that Higgins had left for her by the bed.

  She did not rub the wound with a towel, but let it dry itself.

  Then even more gently she smeared on the herbal cream she had made according to her mother’s recipe and carefully bandaged the wound again.

  She made her touch exceedingly light as she hoped that the Captain would not even be aware of it.

  As she finished and he had not moved or spoken, she said to him very quietly,

  “I want you to drink this, Captain, and I do promise you that it will make you feel much better in a few hours.”

  For the first time he opened his eyes and he did not look at Shenda, but at what she was holding in her hand.

  “What is it?” he demanded gruffly.

  “It is from the Maidenhair tree,” she replied, “and I promise you it will do exactly as I have just told you.”

  She pressed the glass into his hand.

  Ivan moved it slowly and with a distasteful look on his face towards his lips.

  Shenda was very certain he had expected it to taste disgusting like all doctor’s medicines.

  To his surprise, however, the drink was sweetened with honey and it had a slight taste of its own that he did not recognise but seemed quite pleasant.

  He drank it all down and then Shenda took the glass from him.

  She walked towards the door and opened it.

  Higgins was waiting outside and without saying a word he entered the room.

  He was expecting his Master to say how much he disliked this woman nursing him and that the drink she had given him was absolutely horrible.

  Instead of which Ivan said nothing.

  After taking away the basin he had been washed in, Higgins left without speaking and he saw that Shenda was waiting for him at the door into the boudoir.

  She beckoned to him and he followed her into the room and looking at him keenly, she said in hushed tones,

  “I have an idea – ”

  “What is it, miss.”

  “I think it is bad for your Master to lie there alone thinking of all that has upset him.”

  “How do you know he’s a-thinkin’ of what’s upset him, miss? Who’s been talkin’?”

  “No one here, but I do know instinctively that he is upset and I believe very unhappy.”

  “Well, you ain’t far wrong there!”

  “I thought so, and as it is bad for him and prevents him from improving as quickly as he should, I want you to bring a piano upstairs for me.”

  “A piano! I expects you to ask me for many funny things, miss, but not a piano!”

  “I am sure that he enjoys music and as I play quite well, I am going to play to him and unless he stops me, he will find it far easier than either talking to you or, as I think he is, drifting back into his past all the time.”

  “I knows there be a piano downstairs and I’ll get the footmen to
bring it up. But I wouldn’t say whether the Master’ll like it or dislike it. I never know with him.”

  “I expect before the war he attended many dances.”

  “That be true, miss.”

  “And I expect he also went to Drury Lane or to one of the other theatres where there was music, dancing and of course pretty girls to look at.”

  Higgins laughed.

  “That’s a bulls eye if ever there was one!”

  Shenda laughed too.

  “Please go downstairs and bring me the piano and we will see what music can do. Quite frankly it is bad for him to lie there hating all women, just because one has obviously hurt him, and wondering how he can wreak his revenge.”

  “There’s not much chance of that happenin’.”

  Shenda wondered whether she was undertaking too big an experiment so soon after she had arrived.

  However, three footmen and Higgins soon returned carrying a very attractive upright piano and she made them set it down near the communicating door.

  “If you wants some music for playin’, there’s some downstairs in what they calls the music room, but I thinks you’d better choose for yourself what you wants.”

  “Yes, of course. That’s very kind of you, Higgins. What I would like you to do is to go and do something in your Master’s room. Then when he hears the music, if he dislikes it or insists I stop, you must come and tell me.”

  She was thinking that she was experimenting and it might all end in disaster.

  He could think that she was taking advantage of her position as a nurse and dismiss her immediately.

  At the same time she was certain that it was wrong for him to be so introspective.

  Her mother had always believed that for a very sick person music was far better than conversation.

  “People sit by sick-beds and talk their heads off,” she said. “And that is a mistake. If one is ill one is pleased to see people, but not for them to chitter-chatter for ages.”

  “How can we show someone we are sorry that they are ill?” Shenda had asked her when she was very young.

  “You bring them flowers and you stay only a very short time. Then after you have gone, they can appreciate the flowers and think of the things they might have said to you – but which were much better not said.”