Daughter of Hassan & Heart of the Desert(2)

‘You embarrass Danielle,’ she chided him lightly. ‘She is not used to such behaviour, is this not so, petite?’

Before Danielle could answer Madame Sancerre turned to her mother and said enviously,

‘You are fortunate in your daughter, Helen. My Isabelle, although three years younger than Danielle, is already a rebel. I have told her more than once that her behaviour is not comme il faut; not that which one expects from une jeune fille bien élevée, but will she listen? I have told her she will not make a good marriage, but she merely laughs. She does not want to marry, she tells me. She will go to university and qualify as an advocate so that she can support herself.’

Although Madame Sancerre shook her head, Danielle could tell that secretly she was very proud of her daughter. As though he sensed the direction of her thoughts her stepfather came across and put his arm round her shoulders.

‘As you say, Madame,’ he told the Frenchwoman, ‘we are very proud of Danielle. She is everything I have always hoped for in a daughter. Beautiful… spirited…’

Danielle blushed, and Madame Sancerre laughed. ‘A pearl beyond price—you must treasure her greatly, my friend.’

‘Very greatly,’ her stepfather said, so seriously that Danielle almost protested fearfully that she was human and humanly frail and that he must not put her on such a pedestal, but Madame Sancerre was talking and the moment was lost, forgotten as the conversation became more general.

It was after dinner that Philippe drew Danielle to one side, engaging her in discussion while their elders discussed business in the case of the men and fashion in that of the ladies.

‘It is too long since we last met, chérie,’ he told her. ‘You must persuade your stepfather to bring you to Paris with him the next time he comes.’

‘I shan’t be having much spare time for trips to Paris from now on,’ Danielle responded, withdrawing the fingers Philippe was stroking gently. ‘I start college soon.’

‘College? Oh, you mean your Cordon Bleu course.’ You should have taken it in Paris, chérie, the home of the only true Cordon Bleu cookery, but I doubt that would suit your papa. He likes to keep his little pearl under his eye, is this not so?’

‘He isn’t too keen on the idea of me leaving home,’ Danielle admitted, ‘but one day…’

‘One day the bird will fly the nest, eh?’ Philippe commented with a teasing smile. ‘When she does I hope she will fly in my direction. You are very lovely, little Danielle—an enchanting mixture, half women and half child still. When you become all woman, then you will be formidable!’

Danielle had had enough experience of Philippe’s flattery to take it with a pinch of salt. He was known to be something of a flirt, and she said so lightly, watching his eyebrows rise in mock pain.

‘I a flirt? Never! And certainly not with you, mignonne, your stern steppapa would never approve, and my papa is dependent upon him for much of his business. Now, if you are seeking a real Don Juan, a man who is so entirely male that females of the species practically throw themselves at his feet, you can look no farther than the family of your steppapa. Has he told you nothing of Jourdan?’ he asked in some surprise when Danielle stiffened slightly ‘I can hardly believe it. Jourdan is his favourite nephew.’

‘He may have mentioned him—he has so many relatives, I can’t remember them all,’ Danielle lied, wondering why she should feel this sudden frisson of fear at the mention of the previously unheard-of nephew, Jourdan! It was a strange name, but she wasn’t going to betray her curiosity to Philippe’s too knowing eyes.

‘If he had mentioned him you would surely have remembered it,’ Philippe stated positively. ‘It is odd that he has not. Hassan and Jourdan are very close. Jourdan is more of a son to him than a nephew.’

Danielle’s eyes mirrored her disbelief. If this Jourdan was as close to her stepfather as Philippe claimed how was it that she had never heard of him; never seen him?

An explanation was soon forthcoming.

‘Of course, Jourdan did not approve of Hassan marrying your mother,’ Philippe told her, ‘although I would have thought he would have put all that behind him now. The marriage is fact, and I should have thought Jourdan far too sensible a man to continue to antagonise a man as powerful as Hassan needlessly, especially when he has so much to gain by not antagonising him.’

‘Such as what?’ Danielle asked. It seemed to her as it had done in the past that her stepfather was not treated as well by his relatives as he ought to be.

Philippe looked at first puzzled and then slightly amused.

‘Surely Hassan has told you the story of how he comes to be controlling Qu‘Har’s oil industry?’

‘My stepfather doesn’t believe in discussing business with women,’ Danielle replied coolly, wishing she did not have to admit this fact. Once she herself would have bridled instinctively at such an insult to the female sex, but she had come to realise that in her stepfather’s case his decision sprung more from a misguided desire to protect both Danielle and her mother from worry than a desire to exclude them from that part of his life, although the effect was much the same. Sheikh Hassan was a benevolent autocrat whose care for his womenfolk was unceasing, but Danielle shuddered to think what it must be like to be at the mercy of an Eastern husband who considered women to be on the same plane as domestic pets. Danielle had every European’s girl natural desire for independence, but for her stepfather’s sake she masked it, unwilling to hurt the man who had done so much for her and her mother.

‘That at least is something Jourdan would approve of,’ Philippe told her with a smile. ‘He is very much what you would term a chauvinist, that one. The last time he came to Paris I was amazed by the low opinion in which he holds your sex, ma chérie, and even more amazed by the way your sisters responded to his chauvinism. Of course, power and wealth are a heady combination, and Jourdan has both in full measure, although not in as full a measure as he would wish, perhaps.’ He gave Danielle a speculative sideways glance, which she missed as she tried to analyse the intense dislike—almost to the point of hatred—which seemed to be consuming her at the thought of this Jourdan, who apparently despised her sex and made use of it simply for his own pleasure before discarding it like an unwanted suit of clothes.

‘You know, of course, that Hassan’s father as outright ruler was free to choose which of his sons would rule after him?’ Philippe asked Danielle.

She hadn’t known, but rather than betray this she nodded and waited for him to go on. In spite of her reservations about letting Philippe confide in her, her curiosity about her stepfather’s family could not be denied.

‘Sheikh Ben Ibn Ahmed had four sons, of whom Hassan was very obviously his favourite, and would undoubtedly have succeeded him had it not been for the fact that he himself had no sons. With three jealous brothers to contend with Sheikh Ibn Ahmed felt that a man without sons to come after him was not the right choice for ruler of Qu‘Har. Nevertheless Hassan was his favourite son, so after consultation with his advisers, the company which controls Qu‘Har’s oil production and revenues was set up, with Hassan as head of it for his entire lifetime. His choice was a wise one, for under Hassan the company has diversified and grown, and its profits are used to benefit not only his family, but also their people. You may, or may not know that Hassan’s ancestors belonged to a small tribe renowned for their ferocity and independence. It was one of my ancestors who persuaded the Sheikh to have his sons educated abroad, by the way, and that is where the connection between Hassan’s family and mine comes from. My father says that Hassan has more than repaid whatever his father might have owed my grandfather in the volume of business he puts our way…’

‘But you don’t agree?’ Danielle asked shrewdly, noting the discontent suddenly marring his handsome features.

‘He has been generous,’ Philippe agreed grudgingly, ‘but he could be more so. A seat on the board of several of his companies, for instance. It would cost him little, and do much for us.’

As Danielle knew that her stepfather believed that men must earn their way in life by merit, she wisely refrained from answering. Philippe was charming when he had a mind to be, but he did not have the same dedication to work evidenced by his father and hers, and she suspected that as a young man who enjoyed the sophistication of life in Paris, Philippe also wanted the wealth to match his ambitions. She knew that Philippe found her attractive, but she also knew that when he married it would be to a girl of his own class from a wealthy background, a calm and placid Frenchwoman who would turn a blind eye to her husband’s other affairs. She could never do that, Danielle acknowledged, a little surprised by the force of her own feelings. When and if she married it would be to a man who loved her as intensely as she loved him, a man who would make her his whole world, just as she would make him hers. She smiled a little sadly. Such men were few and far between. Even her stepfather, who adored her mother, had outside interests which excluded her.