The Tree of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  When she reached him, he remarked,

  “I am delighted to learn from the servant that I will have the company of such a beautiful lady at dinner.”

  He was speaking in French and Shenda replied to him in the same language.

  “I thought, monsieur, as you were only having one night in Paris, you would be dining with your friends.”

  “That particular friend I came to see, mademoiselle, is unfortunately dining out, but, as I have already said, I am delighted to enjoy your company instead of eating alone.”

  He was drinking a glass of champagne and insisted on Shenda joining him.

  “I intend to enjoy myself as I always do when I stay here. The Vicomte is very generous and when he knew I was coming to stay with him, he usually arranged a party.”

  “How very kind of him and I am sorry there is not one available for you tonight.”

  She was speaking lightly, but the Comte responded in a serious tone,

  “How could I ask for anything more enjoyable than to dine with a beautiful lady who looks so like the Goddess of Love?”

  Shenda told herself that this must be the excessively flowery way of speaking that she would expect a Frenchman to talk.

  She asked the Comte some questions about himself and learnt that he was married and had two children, although he did not seem to be particularly interested in them.

  When they went in to dinner, she asked him more questions.

  She learnt that his had been an arranged marriage, which had taken place when he was very young.

  His wife, she gathered, had brought a large dowry and everyone who visited it admired his château.

  “Do you often come to Paris?” she asked when the conversation seemed to be flagging a little.

  “Before the war I spent more time here than I did at home and now that the hostilities are over I can only pray I can come back to the excitement I could always find in Paris.”

  He bent towards her.

  Then in a low voice he hoped the servants waiting on them could not hear, he added,

  “I am always looking out for beautiful women like you.”

  Shenda stiffened.

  “You are most flattering, monsieur,” she responded to him in English, “but at my home in England we do not always express our thoughts out loud.”

  The Frenchman laughed.

  “Now you are being coy, mademoiselle, and if you run away from me, I promise you that I will run very fast to prevent you from escaping!”

  Although he spoke fluent English, Shenda thought that he could not mean literally what he was saying.

  She therefore replied in French,

  “I am interested in hearing all about your family.”

  “As they are nearly always with me, I certainly have no intention of talking about them now they are not here – besides I want to talk about you.”

  He bent forward again as he uttered the last word.

  He would have touched her hand with his if Shenda had not moved hers away quickly.

  He was very obviously flirting with her and it was something she had never experienced before, but this was certainly a lesson she would remember.

  “I am sure,” she said discouragingly, “you say such flattering words to every woman you meet.”

  “Only the beautiful ones,” the Comte replied, “and who could ever be more beautiful than you? I find your English complexion and your blue eyes enchanting. You are actually all I have been seeking for a long time – ”

  The servants brought in the last course and it was as delicious as all the other courses had been.

  There was no doubt that the chef was enjoying the opportunity of showing off his skills.

  At last dinner was over and the butler announced that coffee would be served in the salon.

  Shenda rose to her feet, expecting the Comte to stay behind, as he would have done in England, to drink a glass of port.

  Then, as he followed her, she recalled that in France it was correct for the gentlemen to leave the room with the ladies.

  There was no chance therefore of her slipping away and avoiding him.

  The salon looked very pretty in the candlelight and the servants had arranged plenty of flowers to please her.

  She drank a cup of coffee, refusing a liqueur, while the Comte accepted a large glass of brandy.

  When the servants had left the room, he came to sit down on the sofa beside her.

  “I find you so enchanting, mademoiselle. I always thought English girls were plain and gauche. But you, as I have already said, are like the Goddess of Love and that of course is what we must talk about now.”

  “On the contrary, monsieur, it is a subject I am not interested in. I would rather hear about your château and your collection of pictures.”

  The Comte laughed.

  “You are entrancing and let me tell you, ma cherie, you will not be rid of me so easily.”

  He moved a little closer to her – so she rose before he could prevent her from doing so.

  She walked over the room towards the window and pulled back the curtains.

  She looked out at the moonlight on the garden and gazed at all the trees, the flowers and the silvery magic that was so entrancing.

  The casement window was wide open and she was breathing in the fresh air when the Comte joined her.

  “Do you want to go into the garden?” he asked her. “I would love to see you in the moonlight and although I am so content with you as you are now – lovelier than any flower in bloom.”

  He was speaking in French and Shenda replied,

  “You must not embarrass me, monsieur, otherwise I must leave you and retire to bed.”

  “I beseech you not to leave me, mademoiselle.”

  “Then if I stay, you must talk about other subjects rather than pay me such compliments. It’s often said that English women do not know how to receive compliments, and now I know the reason why.”

  “Then tell me why – ”

  “Because you are paying compliments that are too glib and too easy. One knows they cannot be sincere.”

  “But I assure you mine are sincere, ma cherie. You are very lovely and how can I waste this moment when we are alone in a wonderful world of our own and there is no one to interrupt us?”

  He moved even closer to her as he was speaking.

  Then much to Shenda’s relief the door opened and a footman came in to collect the coffee cups.

  She closed the window and pulled the curtains and then she walked across the room to sit down – not on the sofa where the Comte could come and sit next to her, but in an armchair.

  He had followed her and he was just about to speak when Higgins came into the room.

  “I thought I’d tell you, miss, that the Captain be asleep and I’ve taken Pluck and put ’im in your room.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Higgins. I will be retiring shortly and I am pleased to hear that the Captain is asleep.”

  She thought it was just what she had expected to happen as he had been up for the first time and was tired.

  Higgins left them and as the door closed, the Comte suggested,

  “Now at last we are alone and there is no reason for any further interruption. Come and sit on the sofa and talk to me about yourself and allow me to tell you how much you attract me and how delicious I find you.”

  “I have already said the subject is forbidden, in fact I have had a long day and, like my patient, I too am tired.”

  She rose to her feet as she spoke and added,

  “Please forgive me, monsieur, but I am not used to late nights.”

  “Then, of course, you must lie down. And you will look, I am quite certain, like Venus with cupids singing all around you of l’amour.”

  Shenda giggled nervously.

  “I think it is exceedingly unlikely, but perhaps it’s something that will happen in my dream.”

  There was an expression in the Comte’s eyes that made her feel embarrassed.
/>   “Bonsoir, monsieur,” she intoned and she sounded rather apprehensive.

  He said something in reply, but she did not listen as she hurried across the hall and almost ran up the stairs.

  When she reached her own room, she saw a servant coming out of the room opposite and it suddenly dawned on her that it was where the Comte would be sleeping.

  Hastily in case he followed her, she opened the door of her bedroom and then as Pluck jumped off the bed, she was glad to see that he was waiting for her.

  She bent to pat him and he was obviously delighted to see her.

  She talked to him as she was undressing and while she was brushing her hair.

  Then she blew out the candles on the dressing table, leaving only those by her bedside.

  She was just about to get into bed when Pluck gave a growl.

  It was a very low growl and when she turned she saw that he was looking at the door.

  He growled again and instinctively she was aware that there was someone outside.

  Too late she recalled she had not locked her door and in fact she was not certain if she could have done so.

  She had noticed that all the bedrooms were empty except for those used by the Captain and herself.

  The doors of the bedrooms were all locked from the outside as prevention against burglars and it also made it easier for the housemaids to enter the rooms for cleaning.

  Now she looked towards her door with Pluck still growling and it was then she realised that when she said goodnight to the Comte, he had responded,

  “Au revoir, ma cherie.”

  She had not really listened as she hurried away to be rid of him.

  Suddenly she was overcome with panic and without thinking, only determined to be safe, she pulled open the communicating door into the boudoir.

  The curtains had not been drawn and there was just enough light coming through the windows for her to find her way across the room to the other side.

  Even as she hurried, she heard the Comte’s voice in her bedroom behind her.

  She did not know whether he was calling for her, thinking that she was hiding or swearing because he found the room empty.

  She only knew that she must get away from him to safety.

  She pulled open the door into the Master suite.

  There was a large candelabrum by the bed that cast a bright light.

  Instinctively she ran swiftly across the room with Pluck following her.

  As she reached the big four-poster bed, she saw that the Captain was not asleep but sitting up, propped up against his pillows and there was a book open in front of him.

  He looked up at Shenda in surprise. Then, as she knelt down beside him, she managed to stammer breathlessly,

  “The Comte – is in my room and I am terrified – so very terrified!”

  Ivan stared at her, but before he could speak Pluck jumped onto his bed and excitedly tried to lick his face.

  He held the dog off and asked,

  “Whatever are you saying?”

  Even as he spoke through the communicating door came the Comte wearing a colourful dressing gown.

  She thought that he looked unpleasantly sinister without the finery he had worn for dinner.

  “Où êtes-vous, ma belle?” he now demanded. “If you hide from me, you can be sure I will find you.”

  There was a thickness in his voice that she realised had not been there at dinner.

  In fact she was sure it was due to the large glass of brandy he had drunk in the salon with his coffee on top of all the wine he had consumed at dinner.

  “Where are you?” he asked again as he wandered across the room.

  Then he saw Ivan sitting up in his bed with Pluck beside him.

  Shenda had slipped further down on the floor until she was almost invisible.

  For a moment the two men stared at each other.

  Then Ivan exploded in French,

  “You have no right to come in here and I order you to leave immediately.”

  “I am seeking a beautiful woman who has run away from me,” the Comte replied. “She is only making me more eager for the chase and I have no intention of losing her.”

  “I don’t know what on earth you are talking about, but if you don’t leave this room immediately, I will ring for the servants to throw you out!”

  Ivan spoke to him vehemently, but the Comte was not listening and appeared oblivious of his rising anger.

  Then suddenly he saw Shenda crouching down on the floor beside the bed.

  “Oh, there you are!” he shouted. “Now, ma chérie, let me take you back to your room so I can tell you how exciting I find you.”

  Shenda did not reply.

  Next Ivan yelled at him violently,

  “Get out of here at once, you drunken swine, and if you don’t obey me I will make certain you are carried out!”

  As he spoke, he pulled open a drawer of the bedside table beside him.

  He drew out a revolver and pointed it at the Comte shouting,

  “Go – or I will shoot you.”

  For a moment the Comte was immobile.

  “Go! Go or you will be sorry you are hesitating.”

  He waved the revolver at him.

  As if he suddenly understood what was happening, the Comte backed away, turned and made for the door

  As if he realised that the man was an intruder, Pluck jumped off the bed and barked at him furiously.

  It was then that the Comte seemed almost to throw himself out of the room, slamming the door noisily behind him so that Pluck was left inside still barking.

  For a moment neither Ivan nor Shenda moved.

  As she tried to stand up but found it difficult to rise, Ivan remarked harshly,

  “I suppose it’s your fault that he came here. Like all women, whatever a man is like, you cannot leave him alone. If you have been frightened, it is what you damned well deserve!”

  He spoke to her in a tone of disgust.

  “It’s not true, I did not – ”

  “Get out!” he raged. “Get out and stay out! I have no wish to see you again. You are just like all women, all completely and absolutely untrustworthy.”

  “Oh, please, please let me tell you what – ”

  “Get out! Leave me alone. I was such a fool ever to believe you were different.”

  The way he spoke to her was so violent that Shenda felt aghast.

  With a sob she ran to the communicating door and pushed it open.

  Then, as she closed it behind her, she stood still for a moment, resting her back against it and gasping for breath.

  As she did so she could hear the Captain swearing,

  “Damn women, damn, damn, damn them all!”

  His voice seemed to grow louder and stronger with every word.

  With a cry that came from the bottom of her heart Shenda ran to her room – and it was just as she had left it, looking exceedingly attractive in the light of the candles.

  She flung herself onto the bed, hiding her face in the pillows and burst into tears.

  She cried helplessly.

  She recognised that she was crying not just because the Captain was angry with her.

  But she had lost him and the happiness she had felt with him.

  How long she cried she had no idea.

  She knew that she could never explain away what had happened – nor would the Captain ever listen to her.

  *

  A long time later when she could cry no more, she told herself she could not bear to see him again.

  Now he hated her, as he had hated all women when she had first arrived at this house.

  She climbed off the bed and lit the candles that had blown out and started to pack her clothes.

  Her trunk was luckily in the wardrobe room, which adjoined the bedroom.

  She threw in the gowns from the wardrobe and the more personal things from the drawers. However, she left out the dress she had been wearing when she had arrived.

  Wh
en she finished packing, it was still dark outside, so she climbed into bed, but it was impossible to sleep.

  She could only think of the fury and contempt in the Captain’s voice as he had told her to leave.

  She knew that if she could have seen his eyes, they would have shown how much he despised her.

  ‘Just how could he imagine for one moment that I would try to attract a man like the Comte?’

  Then she recognised why he hated her.

  Simply because she was a woman!

  A woman had once betrayed him so he expected all women to do the same.

  It was then that she remembered how different he had become.

  When they had been discussing the pictures and the artists who had painted them, no one could have been more interesting or more polite and considerate.

  She had been happier with him than she had ever felt in her entire life.

  ‘I love him,’ she confessed miserably to herself.

  She had not been aware that it was love, which she had played to him on the piano.

  Love that had made her feel that each day was more enthralling than the last.

  The hours had seemed golden because she could be with him.

  She had at first felt a tenderness towards him as he had been wounded in battle and then because he had been badly treated by the French doctors.

  Then she learnt that a woman had hurt him.

  She longed for him to believe that she was different.

  It had all happened in such an unusual way and she had not realised exactly what she felt about him.

  Now she knew he had captivated her heart from the moment she had first seen him looking so handsome, yet so shattered by the battle.

  ‘I love him, I love him,’ she told herself.

  She knew that when she left tomorrow morning she would never see him again.

  Now she was crying again as she had cried when he had sent her away, shouting at her and hating her because she had reawakened the disgust he had felt for all women.

  She had believed that he had found her different and she had discussed so many subjects with him and they had laughed at the same things.

  They had battled with words and she really felt that he had accepted her.

  He had been injured not only by a French bullet but also by a woman he could never forget.

  A woman who then personified to him all women and now she was amongst them.