Valentina (10 page)

‘He's not my lover, Sandra,' Valentina said. ‘You don't know him. He's not like other men.'

‘Bah! What do you know about other men to compare him with? I may not know him, Valentina, but by God I know the type! It's not one that takes a woman two hundred miles in three days for nothing. And puts her under Imperial protection. I believe you've stolen his heart, you minx! Incidentally, I'm very grateful to him for taking me under his policeman's wing. I have a feeling that our odious Theodore will try and pay you back—the Poles would dearly love to hang a Suvarov—even a woman!'

‘We're safe,' Valentina said. ‘Nobody will dare touch either of us now. Oh, Sandra, you don't know how happy I am! I can't believe that I'm home with you, and free at last. I can't believe that I'll never see him again! And all this time I've done nothing but talk about myself. How are you—you look so well, and just the same. You never change, Sandra!'

‘Nor you,' her sister said. ‘Except that you're prettier than ever. Now you've told me everything, or nearly everything,' she mocked, ‘about the Colonel, I mean, you're going to go to bed and sleep. I have some estate business to see to, and sooner or later I shall have to ride my new stallion today. None of these clumsy imbeciles can manage him. I'll show him to you tomorrow.'

‘Perhaps I can ride him, Sandra—'

‘Certainly not!' her sister said. ‘He eats Poles for breakfast, this one. Tadeus broke his arm trying to ride him, and he knows how to deal with horses better than anyone on the estate. You'll have plenty of time to amuse yourself. Now you're going to sleep. We will celebrate tonight, you and I and your Colonel!'

As Valentina explained to De Chavel, the dining hall was too big and gloomy for three people, and unfortunately they had no near neighbours to invite to meet them. Alexandra had prepared their father's old study for the dinner. It was a warm room by the medieval standards of Czartatz; there were fine tapestries on the walls and rugs from Persia on the stone floors. A huge fire of logs burnt in the open fireplace, and three tall eight-branched silver candelabra gave them light. There was a beautiful Russian-embroidered tablecloth on the table and some superb silver, which De Chavel guessed was also Russian, like the silver goblets with the Suvaroff crest engraved on them. He came in dressed in a plain green coat and white breeches, and even Alexandra admitted that he was extraordinarily handsome. He was not the type of man who appealed to her; he was too dominant, not in the sinister way of her brother-in-law Grunowski, but with an unconscious arrogance that challenged her, rousing her own aggressive spirit. He came to her and bowed, kissing the hand she held out to him. She was wearing one of the largest cabuchon rubies on her finger that he had ever seen, and it was matched by a massive necklace that glowed round her neck; her dress was the same rich colour, slashed low across her breasts, and in spite of her height and the way she carried herself, she was surprisingly voluptuous. He looked into the black eyes and they were full of challenge. Some man might overcome this woman, but he would be as rare a specimen as she was. He could hardly believe that she and Valentina were even half-sisters.

‘Are you more rested now? Valentina came in, and he turned to her and took her hand. When he kissed it he noticed that her fingers trembled slightly. She wore a dress of pale yellow silk with a gauze scarf embroidered with gold thread. Her only jewels were the collar of pearls she had been wearing the night she came to Murat's house. She was so beautiful and as he looked at her she flushed.

‘I feel extremely well, Madame,' he said. ‘I only wonder how you've survived the journey.' He turned to Alexandra. ‘It was very uncomfortable, Princess. I've never known anything so welcome as your marvellous bed this morning!'

‘Let's hope the dinner will please you as much, Colonel,' she said. ‘We live simply here, but at least my late father kept a good cellar, and he took the trouble to teach me something about wines. Shall we sit down?'

It was a very gay meal; they ate venison cooked in wine with herbs, and De Chavel could truthfully say he had never tasted anything better from the best chefs in Paris. There was a wide selection of delicious Russian and Polish sweetmeats and wines of memorable quality. He noticed that the Princess drank as much as he did and had a head like a rock. She was a brilliant conversationalist; she was amusing and stimulating, with a wry and ribald sense of humour, yet he knew that she was watching him and her sister like a mountain lioness with one cub. De Chavel sensed her purpose quite clearly; she wished him to enjoy himself because it would make Valentina happy, and in her fierce way she was showing her own gratitude for what he had done to help her sister. But had she suspected him of one dishonourable act towards Valentina she would have told her servants to cut his throat. They sat on after the food was cleared away; he and Alexandra drank cognac in paper-thin glasses shaped like tulips which marvellously conserved the bouquet, and Valentina sipped champagne.

‘If you wish to smoke, Colonel,' Alexandra said, ‘I can offer you some of my dear father's cheroots. It's a pity he had such a poor character; his taste in other things was quite remarkable. I suppose my lamented mother's fortune helped him develop it.' She leant back and laughed, and her white teeth gleamed.

‘You'll shock the Colonel, Sandra,' Valentina said. ‘He's not accustomed to hearing parents described like this. But I assure you, it's true. I can remember the day my father told me he had arranged my marriage to Theodore; I always imagined he was fond of me till then. He was delighted, simply delighted. “It's an excellent match for you,” he kept saying, “and I shall have a seat on the Diet Council.” He didn't even listen to me when I said I didn't want to marry him.'

‘He was always trying to make a nice suitable match for me,' her sister remarked. ‘But by God, none of the gentlemen stayed long enough to make the offer! I saw to that!'

‘You'd make the most wonderful wife in the world—for anyone who could cope with you,' Valentina laughed. ‘But I can't think of anyone off-hand, can you, Colonel?'

‘No.' De Chavel shook his head and smiled. ‘I can't; but no doubt this Prince among men exists, and if you'll forgive me, Princess, I doubt if any ordinary man would do!'

‘Marriage,' Alexandra said, ‘what's marriage? Just a life contract with all the advantages to the man! Every time I saw one of those rich creatures coming here, all tricked out to catch the rich girl's fancy, I felt like spitting in their faces! “You'll be a miserable old maid,” my father used to say—mind you', she raised her glass to De Chavel, ‘he was a little afraid of me too. He could never have done to me what he did to Valentina. I'd have stabbed Theodore on the wedding night, and Father knew it. In the end he left me alone to go my own way. And I like my way very much, thank you. I can do without marriage.'

‘You know …' De Chavel looked up at her; the wine and brandy had affected him more than he knew; he didn't want to look at Valentina; he wanted to talk to the woman on his right who had this refreshing masculine approach to life. She didn't attract him in the least, and all this talk of marriage had opened the old wounds a little.

‘You know,' he said, ‘you're the first woman I've ever met who has the same view on that damnable institution as I have! Only I don't think you have the perspective quite right. It's the woman who gets the advantages, Princess; the woman who gets the better of the poor booby of a husband—not all women, of course,' he made a gesture towards Valentina. ‘There are scoundrels like Grunowski, but by God they're few and far between compared to the women who cheat and lie and fool their husbands. Marriage is for idiots, Princess. You and I have better sense! Let's drink to that!'

‘To ourselves, Colonel. To the wise ones!' Alexandra drained the glass; she had seen her sister turn white as she spoke. ‘You should drink with us,' she said, and she was suddenly gentle. ‘Freedom is better, little sister, and you have yours now. We owe you thanks, Colonel, and I would like to express it to you personally. You have brought my sister back to me. God bless you for it.'

‘I'm happy,' he said. ‘Happy that she's safe. No one will trouble either of you here. I can promise you that.'

‘So long as the eagles of France fly over Poland, we won't be harmed,' Alexandra said. She leant across and patted Valentina's hand. ‘We will both have to pray for the success of French arms, in spite of what I said this morning about being neutral.'

‘I shall pray for them every moment,' Valentina said.

He didn't mean to look at her; he had turned away because the effect of the wine and the atmosphere was too insidious and she was very near. But he was drawn in spite of himself, and when he met her glance he saw her eyes were full of tears.

‘I shall pray for you,' Valentina said quietly. ‘That you will come back safely from this war.' She raised her glass and drank to him. ‘To the victory of France, Colonel!'

They drank the toast, and after a moment Alexandra said, ‘How long can you stay with us here?'

‘No longer than tonight,' De Chavel answered. ‘I have only leave of absence to deliver Madame to her home and then I must return immediately. The order to advance into Russia will come at any moment. I must go back tomorrow; the Emperor himself is on his way to Truro to join the main body of the army.'

‘Tomorrow?' Valentina said. ‘You've got to go tomorrow? Can't you wait even one day?'

‘Not even one hour,' he said quietly. ‘Believe me, I should like nothing better than to spend some time here. But I am a soldier, Madame, and I can't please myself.'

‘I didn't know,' Valentina said, ‘I didn't realise it would be so soon …'

‘What time will you go?' Alexandra stood up. ‘We will say goodbye.'

‘As soon as it's light,' he said.

‘Sandra,' Valentina said suddenly, ‘Sandra, I would like a few moments alone with the Colonel. I want to thank him and say goodbye in private. Would you leave us, please?'

To his surprise her elder sister smiled; the dark face had a slightly wicked look. She shrugged. ‘Of course, little sister. Make your private farewells. I will see you at dawn tomorrow, Colonel. Good night.'

At the door she paused. ‘My sister is still tired,' she said. ‘I know I can rely on you not to keep her up too long.'

She closed the door, and De Chavel said abruptly, ‘May I help myself to some more of this excellent brandy?'

‘Of course,' Valentina walked away from him to the fire; suddenly she turned and faced him.

‘You think I'm very immodest, don't you, asking to speak to you like this?'

‘No.' He said it deliberately. ‘I think you're very foolish. Have you forgotten what happened the last time we were in a supper room alone?'

She shook her head. Tomorrow he was leaving. Tomorrow. ‘I wish I could forget it,' she said. ‘I wish I could say goodbye to you with Sandra tomorrow and never think of you again. But I can't. Something has happened between us.'

‘That's where you're wrong,' he said. ‘Nothing has happened between us and nothing is going to; I'm going to finish my brandy and you, my foolish little sentimentalist, are going up to join your sister!'

She came to him and faced him. She was strangely calm. Tomorrow he would be gone. She might never see him again.

‘I love you,' she said. ‘I don't even know your Christian name. I loved you that first night at the reception. Even afterwards, when you nearly took me by force, I wanted you. I want you now, my love, if you will have me.'

He had never meant to touch her; he had no idea how she came to be in his arms, whether he reached out or she came to him first, but the next moment she was pressed against him, and her mouth was covered by his, and he felt her tremble as he drew her down to the sofa, blindly with his eyes closed. There was no force needed now; her passion met his with fierce abandonment. She freed her lips to whisper again and again, ‘I love you, I love you with all my heart.'

And that was what stopped him before it was too late and she had made the complete surrender. ‘I love you.' It was the lying catch-phrase which every woman whimpered in the extremes of pleasure and it meant no more than any of their cries. ‘I love you, my adored.' Liliane used to murmur that with her lips to his ear when she had left another lover a few hours before and he knew nothing of it. Women he couldn't remember had said it to him when they made love, and now this girl, inflamed with passion, whispered it against his lips. Of them all, she was the only one he had ever believed.

She opened her eyes and looked at him; her head was swimming and her heart felt as if it would burst.

‘Why,' she whispered, ‘why …'

‘I don't love you.' The words choked in his throat. ‘I won't make use of you. You ought to thank me for it. Tomorrow I'll be gone. We'll never meet again. Now for the love of Christ go upstairs!'

‘I thought I meant something to you.' The tears were running down her face but she was unaware of it.

‘I thought perhaps you felt a little for me of what I feel for you. I can't believe you don't …'

‘I want you,' he said. ‘I can't deny that.' He put her away from him almost roughly. He couldn't bear her tears; that much weakness still remained in him. That and the sense of honour which had baulked at her seduction. ‘You're beautiful and I want to make love to you. But that's not love, Valentina. And love is what you need. I can't give it to you. I can't feel it any more for anyone. I had a wife once; I loved her and she betrayed me. With my own officers, my friends, everyone she could get hold of—even Murat. I'm finished with love. But I'm not low enough to take advantage of a foolish girl, however much she thinks she wants me to; go to bed now, for God's sake, child. Forget all this nonsense about love.'