The Wild Cry of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  His voice was low but emotionless as he continued,

  “I travelled all over the world earning my living in many different ways. I have been a lumberjack in Canada, I have bought and sold furs in Alaska. I went to the East to see what I could do by trading and had quite a fair amount of success.”

  He paused as if he was thinking back into the past before he went on,

  “I moved around and, as I grew older, I spent what I earned on further travels and enjoying myself. I had no wish to settle down and there was no point in my doing so.”

  Listening to him Valda thought that when he had spoken of ‘enjoying himself’, that enjoyment must have involved women and felt a sharp stab of jealousy.

  He did not expect her to comment and continued,

  “I had seven years of this sort of life. Then I returned home a year ago because I learnt that my father was dead and my mother very ill. She was in fact worse than I had expected.”

  Now there was a note of pain in his voice and Valda thought he must love his mother deeply.

  “I brought back a certain amount of money with me and I found it was urgently required for operations, for nursing homes and such luxuries as had been denied my mother during my father’s lifetime.”

  “Did she live?” Valda asked.

  Roydon shook his head.

  “She died two months ago,” he answered. “By that time I had spent all the money I had saved – and I owe a considerable amount more.”

  “I am so sorry you – lost her,” Valda said in a soft voice.

  “She was suffering and she wanted to die,” Roydon replied. “But I was able to be with her to the end and that mattered more than anything else.”

  He spoke simply. Then, as if he did not want to linger on the unhappiness of what had happened, he said,

  “I therefore had to get work and get it quickly. That is why I took the job in France a friend offered me of tasting and advising on new wines for import into England. The job is not highly paid, but it is enjoyable and, as I have worked very hard, I came here for a short holiday before returning home to find something else to do.”

  He looked at Valda and then turned his eyes away from her to stare at the candle.

  “Now do you understand why I said I could not marry you or anyone else?” he asked. “I can hardly keep myself, let alone a wife!”

  Valda drew in her breath.

  “Do you – want me?”

  “You know I want you!” Roydon replied. “Like you, I realise that what we have both felt is something magical and extremely wonderful. Something that has never happened to me before and may never happen again.”

  There was a note in his voice that made her feel as if she vibrated to it.

  “You are what I have always longed for and looked for all over the world, only to be disappointed until – now.”

  “Do you – mean – that?” Valda asked breathlessly.

  “I mean it!” he answered. “But, my darling, how can we possibly get married when all I can offer you is a life of poverty and privation?”

  “Do you suppose I would mind if I could be with – you?” Valda asked. “And anyway – I have – some money of my – own.”

  Roydon smiled.

  “Enough, I suspect,” he said, “for you to buy the films for your camera! But whatever you possess, you do not suppose that I would allow my wife to keep me?”

  He spoke lightly, but Valda knew without being told that he was intensely proud and to him the knowledge that she was rich would be a positive deterrent, not an asset.

  “At least we would not – starve,” she suggested.

  “We would not do that anyway,” he answered sharply. “I am not completely nit-witted. I can always make some money one way or another as I have done in the past. But would it be enough for you, my darling?”

  Before she could answer he went on,

  “There might be moments when we could not live in any comfort, when we might have to travel to strange parts of the world, but not in deluxe cabins or by express trains.”

  “Do you really think – such things would matter?” Valda asked.

  “I would not mind for myself,” he answered, “but you have never known poverty. You have never been forced to economise over your gowns, your food or the type of roof over your head at night.”

  “All I want is to be with – you,” Valda said.

  “I have a feeling that what I long to do is wrong,” Roydon continued, “certainly wrong from your point of view, and perhaps eventually even from mine. Supposing the time comes when you reproach me? Supposing when you are older you do not think the sacrifice of what you have given up and what you have endured is compensated for by our love?”

  Valda’s eyes lit up in a smile and she held her arms out to him.

  “Do you really believe that love like ours could ever be wrong?” she asked.

  Just for a moment he hesitated, then he bent forward and her arms were around his neck.

  She pulled his head down to hers, but he did not kiss her. Instead he put his cheek against hers and held her closely so that she could feel his heart beating.

  “I am trying to be sensible,” he said. “I am trying to think for both of us, but you make it very difficult for me, my sweet.”

  “There is nothing to think about,” Valda answered. “All I want is to be with you. I don’t care if we have to live in a hovel or sleep under the stars, so long as I can be with you. We were meant for each other – it is Fate. Nothing anyone can say or do can prevent us from belonging to – one another.”

  There was a little tremor of fear in her voice because she was thinking of her stepfather.

  “Can we be married at once?” she asked. “Tomorrow or the next day? Then, when I am your wife, I can introduce you to my mother and stepfather.”

  “Is that what you want?” Roydon asked.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Please – please let’s do it.” She knew before he spoke that he was not going to agree.

  “No, darling,” he answered. “That would be taking an unfair advantage of your youth and inexperience. I have to meet your mother and talk to your stepfather who is, I imagine, your Guardian?”

  “Let’s get married – first,” Valda begged.

  “I think that would be cowardly,” he said. “I am sure the reason you are in such a hurry is that you are afraid they will disapprove.”

  Valda did not answer, but he felt her tremble and added, “I promise you, my precious, that because I want to marry you much more than you want to marry me, I shall be very persuasive.”

  Valda thought despairingly that he had no idea of what lay ahead.

  She could imagine how violently her stepfather would disapprove of her marrying a man who had no money of his own and, although Roydon was obviously an English gentleman, he had little else to recommend him.

  Almost as if she could foresee the future, Valda could hear him refusing to listen and turning Roydon away from The Château.

  She still had her arms around his neck.

  “Please let us be married at once,” she pleaded. “I am afraid that something might separate us. You might leave me as you did just now and I should never see you again.”

  “You have convinced me that I cannot ever do that,” Roydon answered. “How could you have done anything so foolhardy – so wicked – as to go off by yourself? You might have wandered into the quicksands and you only just escaped being gored!”

  She did not reply and after a moment he said,

  “I could not believe, when I heard you go downstairs, that you would go out alone into the night.”

  He felt Valda quiver against him and he added quietly, “You have not yet told me why you were going to the sea.”

  “I just wanted to swim away from – everything,” Valda whispered. “I could not – face the future without – you.”

  His arms tightened around her until they were painful.

  “My foolish, ridiculous darling!” />
  He moved to kiss first her forehead and then her eyes still wet from her tears, then very gently her mouth.

  There was this time no passion or fire in his kiss, but a tenderness that somehow made Valda feel as if she wanted to cry again.

  “You have been through enough for tonight,” he said tenderly. “I want you to go to sleep, my sweetheart, and we will talk about everything tomorrow.”

  “You will not go away? I will not wake up to find you have – left?”

  “I shall never leave you,” he answered. “You are right, Valda, we belong to each other and I intend to look after you and love you for the rest of our lives. Does that make you happy?”

  She drew in a deep breath.

  “You know it does,” she answered. “I love you! I love you and, if you are not with me, I have no wish to go on – living.”

  “I shall be very angry if you talk like that,” he said. “At the same time I feel as you do that it was fate, my precious, for us to find each other.”

  He smiled and then he went on,

  “It is also the magic of the Camargue. The magic that holds us both spellbound so that we can never escape.”

  “I could never – wish to do so,” Valda whispered against his lips.

  He kissed her gently, then released her arms from his neck and rose from the bed.

  He pulled the sheets up to tuck them beneath her chin. “Goodnight, my darling little love. The future is in the lap of the Gods and the Gods have been kind up to now.”

  “I am sure they will help us.”

  He looked down at her, at the happiness in her eyes, at her red hair and the softness of her mouth.

  “I love you!” he sighed.

  Then he blew out the light.

  Alone in the darkness, Valda felt an irresistible happiness sweep over her.

  This is what she wanted. This is what she had prayed for. She knew that nothing mattered, nothing was important, except her love for Roydon and his for her.

  Equally she knew there were enormous difficulties ahead of which he was not aware, but which to herself she could not deny or belittle.

  Because Roydon loved her, she felt that she held a precious jewel in her hands and it was hers.

  Yet she had to admit not only was there the danger of her stepfather trying to take it away from her, there was also the problem of Roydon himself.

  He did not have to tell her that he was proud and that he was not the type of man who would live on his wife’s money.

  She knew it was an intrinsic part of his make up and that everything in his character and personality would revolt at the thought of having an immensely rich wife while he himself had no means.

  She knew too that there would have been a fascination and in a way a special happiness in enduring the kind of poverty he had envisaged for them together.

  She would have to make ends meet when there were hard times, she would have to economise on her clothes, buy cheaper food, put up with uncomfortable surroundings.

  But none of it would matter because she was doing it for love, for a man who would fill her whole existence.

  This situation of course need never arise when there was her wealth at their disposal. Yet she knew Roydon would resent every penny of hers that he must spend simply because he had nothing to give in return.

  He would not think that love was enough – even though she would be prepared to sacrifice every penny she had in return for one kiss.

  How could she make him understand? How could she explain?

  It seemed to Valda as if all the difficulties and problems were like an armed enemy standing between her and her happiness.

  Then she told herself that no problem was insurmountable.

  How could she have believed a month ago that she would find herself here in the Camargue in the room next to the man she loved and with a chance of becoming his wife?

  That would have seemed an improbable dream and yet it had come true. So why should she be so faint-hearted about what lay ahead?

  And yet the answer was that running away from The Château, reaching the Camargue and even finding Roydon had been her decision, not his.

  Now she was concerned with his feelings, his pride and his happiness. That made everything different.

  It was then that Valda covered her face with her hands and began to pray. Prayer had brought her safely to where she was now and prayer must help her in the future.

  ‘Help me, God. Please help me!’ she prayed. ‘There must be a way in which I can marry Roydon and make him happy – despite my money. I cannot fail now!’

  She prayed so intensely that she half expected to hear the answer in her mind or perhaps in her heart.

  But there was only silence and she wondered desperately what solution tomorrow could bring.

  Chapter Seven

  Valda was already up and half-dressed when Madame Porquier came to call her.

  “Monsieur has asked me to tell you, mademoiselle,” she said, “that you will be riding to Arles today, so you must wear your riding habit.”

  “Riding to Arles?” Valda exclaimed in delight, knowing this meant that she would see more of the Camargue.

  “Oui. Monsieur spoke to my husband and, as he has two horses that he intended to sell to a friend who has wanted them for some time, it is convenient that you and monsieur should take them to him.”

  “What a good idea!” Valda agreed.

  Madame Porquier put the cup of coffee she had brought Valda on the dressing table.

  “You have not much to pack, mademoiselle,” she said, looking at the brown linen bag, which was nearly full.

  “No, indeed,” Valda answered. “I brought very little with me, as you know.”

  “It will be a long ride,” Madame Porquier suggested reflectively, “and you have no hat. I was wondering if you would like me to lend you a straw hat that my daughter wore when she was here last summer? It has ribbons that tie under the chin.”

  “That would be very kind of you,” Valda said. “I am afraid it will be very hot and my mother gets annoyed if I burn my skin.”

  “I should feel the same, mademoiselle, for your skin is white and very beautiful.”

  “Thank you, madame,” Valda smiled.

  Madame went from the room and returned a little later, when Valda was dressed, with a straw hat that she recognised as the type worn by the young girls of Provence when working in the fields.

  Made of coarse straw with a wide brim and ribbons that tied under Valda’s chin, it was very becoming.

  “Thank you very much,” she exclaimed, “and I will leave it with your friends in Arles.”

  “If you will do that, mademoiselle, when my husband next goes to market he will collect it and bring it back here in case my daughter requires it again.”

  “I am very grateful,” Valda said.

  Having tried on the hat, she took it off and went downstairs. Her blue habit, as vividly blue as her eyes, made her look to Roydon as if she had just dropped from the sky.

  He was in the salon and, as she entered, she stood for a moment looking at him. It seemed to her that there was no need to put into words how much she loved him. He must be aware of it.

  As he held out his arms, she ran towards him and he held her close and kissed her.

  “You look happy, my darling,” he said.

  “I am happy,” she answered. “I only wish we had not to leave today.”

  “I have made arrangements, as Madame has undoubtedly told you, that we will ride to Arles. That will give us many more hours in the Camargue.”

  “And many more hours with you!” Valda sighed softly. He kissed her again, then said,

  “It is in fact the easiest and most comfortable way to journey to Arles. When we reach there, how far will it be to your home?”

  “Less than five miles,” Valda replied.

  “Then what we will do is hire a carriage to carry you to your mother and stepfather,” Roydon suggested. “I will follow later.”


  Valda was about to protest, but then she thought he was wise.

  It would be better for her to arrive home alone, so that after her stepfather had shown either pleasure or anger she was not certain which – at seeing her, she could tell him and her mother about Roydon.

  She wished, however, that he could be with her, because already she was feeling apprehensive of what their reaction would be when she told them she intended to marry a man she had chosen for herself.

  Roydon was watching her face and, as if he sensed what she was feeling, he said,

  “We have to face the fact, my darling, that your stepfather may insist on a long engagement or make us wait at least until I have found a house where we can live and a job so that I can maintain us.”

  Valda drew in her breath.

  “Is that going to be difficult?”

  “Not really,” he replied. “I have been thinking about it in the night. I know of one firm with whom I dealt when I was in the East, who would be only too glad to have me. They have already made me an offer, as it happens, but I refused them as I did not wish to live in London.”

  “And now you don’t mind?” Valda asked.

  “I would live in hell itself if it meant that I could be with you!” he answered.

  She would have moved back into his arms had not Madame Porquier at that moment brought in their breakfast and set it down on the table.

  “All your favourite dishes this morning, monsieur,” she said to Roydon. “I would not wish you to leave me hungry!”

  He laughed.

  “As always, madame, I shall leave you a good deal heavier in weight than when I arrived!”

  Madame Porquier turned to Valda.

  “When you have finished your breakfast, mademoiselle, my husband would like to say goodbye to you.”

  “I could meet him now,” Valda said quickly. “I would not wish to keep him from the fields.”

  “There is no reason to hurry,” Madame Porquier replied. “He has the horses to finish grooming and many last minute instructions that he wishes to give to monsieur. He will wait.”

  She bustled away and Valda sat down at the table.