Seeking Love Read online

  He was as fair as Marina was dark, with a dashing moustache and twinkling blue eyes. Henrietta said he was a rogue and a ne’er-do-well – far more interested in playing cards and chasing around stage doors. He had never looked at Marina as more than an insignificant friend of his sister and now she was being forced to leave him behind.

  *

  Marina took no joy in saying her goodbyes to her friends. Georgiana had been quite beside herself and Lucinda refused to believe it until she showed her the tickets for the boat train.

  On the Thursday, Marina made herself ready to make her most difficult call to see Henrietta. They had met at school and had remained firm friends ever since.

  As she stood outside the house in Wimpole Street, Marina’s hand shook whilst pulling the knob on the bell.

  Her heart beat so fast that she could scarcely breathe as the familiar figure of Nicholls, the butler, loomed into view.

  “Ah, Miss Fullerton, Lady Henrietta is in the morning room, do come in.”

  Nicholls opened the door for her and Marina hurried inside. Henrietta was sitting doing some embroidery, her face a picture of concentration. Upon seeing her friend, she tucked her needle into the stretched silk and rose to greet her.

  “Marina. What a lovely surprise.”

  The two girls embraced and, almost before she could say anything, Marina felt tears pricking at her eyes.

  “Oh, Henrietta. I have come with very sad news.”

  “What is it – it’s not Monty?” asked the pale-skinned, fair-haired girl.

  “Please tell me that Monty is not dead.”

  “No, it is nothing like that,” began Marina, sinking down upon the sofa next to her and taking off her gloves. “I am being sent away.”

  Henrietta regarded her friend in disbelief.

  “What do you mean – sent away? I am afraid I do not understand. You cannot have done something wrong. Why, you are still in mourning.”

  Marina looked down at her black dress of rough silk with its simple crepe frill at the cuff.

  “No, it is nothing I have done. Papa has decided that he no longer wishes me to live with him and is sending me away to live with some friends of his in France.”

  Henrietta clasped her friend’s hand and sat mute with misery.

  “I think it is because I remind him so much of Mama,” continued Marina, “he cannot bear to have me living under the same roof as him.”

  The emotion became too much for her and she burst into tears. Henrietta did her best to comfort her friend, but she could not stop her from sobbing.

  Rising, Henrietta rang for Nicholls and asked for some tea to be brought at once. In a short while he appeared with a tray.

  “This is terrible – terrible,” muttered Henrietta, as she poured the hot liquid into a white bone-china cup, “have you tried pleading with him?”

  Marina took the cup and sipped the tea and it soothed her immediately.

  “Yes, I have. But Papa seems to have set his mind upon this course of action and I fear I cannot change his mind.”

  “Who will you be staying with?”

  “Some family friends – the Solanges. I have met them once before when we visited Paris years ago. They have a charming daughter called Monique. I expect she will keep me company, but, oh, Henrietta, I do not want to leave London and all my friends.

  The two girls stayed silent and simply drank their tea – united in misery. “What ho!”

  A loud voice and the sudden opening of the door shattered the peace as in bounded Albert, Henrietta’s brother.

  “Immaculate timing, as usual,” mumbled Henrietta, under her breath.

  “I say, Henny old thing, you didn’t tell me that Marina was visiting.”

  The tall, fair-haired young man stood, legs apart, hands on hips, in the middle of the morning room, a devil- may-care expression on his face. He seemed totally oblivious to the fact that Marina was deeply upset and hardly noticed that he had crashed into something private.

  “Only passing through!” he bellowed cheerfully.

  It was then that both Marina and Henrietta noticed that there was another person in the room with them. The man in question was around thirty and stood quietly in the doorway, smoothing down his golden brown hair, a look of discomfort playing around his handsome features.

  Henrietta immediately took everything in, including the way the stranger was staring at the distraught Marina.

  “So, to what do we owe the pleasure, Marina? I was dashed sorry to hear about your Mama, by the way. Rotten luck and all that.”

  Henrietta glared daggers at her brother, but Albert was too busy helping himself to a custard cream from the tea tray.

  “Marina has come to say goodbye, Albert,” said Henrietta, through clenched jaws. “Oh, why is that?”

  “She is going away to Paris.”

  “Marvellous. Just what you need, I should have thought,” answered Albert. “I am certain that you will find it most agreeable. The French are superb at making one forget one’s miseries. We have French relations, as you know, and a spot of fresh air with them always sets one back on top.”

  “Albert, a spot of fresh air is hardly likely to bring Marina’s mother back,” countered Henrietta, a look of disgust at her brother’s tactlessness crossing her face.

  Marina was too shocked to know how to respond. She had always known that Albert was clumsy in the way he spoke and did not always think about other people’s feelings, but his gaucheness had shocked her.

  After a long silence, Henrietta took the initiative and steered the conversation.

  “Albert, you are very rude – you have not introduced your friend to us.”

  The man in the doorway cast a grateful look in Henrietta’s direction and pulled himself up to his full height. “Sir Peter Bailey, at your service,” he announced,

  bowing first to Henrietta and then Marina.

  “Oh, you’ve met him before, Henny – don’t you recall? At the Wiltshire’s party for New Year.”

  Henrietta gave the man a searching look.

  “I am quite certain that I would have remembered you, if that were the case,” she murmured.

  Coughing before he spoke, Sir Peter took up the conversation.

  “I am afraid that we were introduced, Lady Henrietta, but that I was rather preoccupied at the time having just endured something of a disappointment.”

  “How so, Sir Peter?”

  “I was engaged to a young lady who had broken it off just before Christmas, and so, I was not quite myself.”

  “She was a very foolish young lady, then, to pass up such a fine opportunity,” replied Henrietta, mischievously.

  Marina looked at her friend in disbelief. Henrietta was such a terrible flirt.

  She sometimes wished that she could be more like her, but she was far too shy around young men.

  She glanced at Sir Peter, hardly daring to look him in the face. He was certainly handsome, but he was far too old to be of interest.

  “And I hope you have found someone else to heal your broken heart,” continued Henrietta, quite shamelessly.

  Sir Peter coloured and looked down at the carpet. “Oh, but I have embarrassed you!”

  “Do be quiet, Henny,” put in Albert, suddenly glad that the attention had passed from him. “Peter, old boy – you’ll have to forgive my sister, but she is an incurable romantic. She’s always trying to match-make me with her friends –”

  ‘Goodness. I hope he does not think me in love with him,’ thought Marina, suddenly horrified and wondering what on earth she could ever have seen in him.

  “That’s the trouble with women,” blustered Albert, taking another biscuit, “they have no sense of what is really important in life. Now, I don’t think I told you all about the japes that Heinrich and I got up to at the Masterson Hunt, did I, Henny?”

  Henrietta rolled her eyes as her brother launched into a huge, long story involving hounds, foxes and a missing stirrup cup.

  She
cast an anxious look at Marina who seemed to be wilting under the verbal assault. Henrietta was well aware that her friend was still delicate after her recent bereavement and that the last thing she wanted was to hear tall stories of derring-do from Albert.

  “You must forgive us, Sir Peter,” interrupted Henrietta, clasping Marina’s hand in hers. “My friend has come to say her goodbyes before leaving for the Continent and we have much to catch up on.”

  “Of course,” replied Sir Peter, clearly mortified by Albert’s behaviour. “I have an appointment in Holborn this afternoon and should be on my way.”

  Albert paused mid-sentence and quickly composed himself.

  “Right-o,” he said, clearly realising that he had been a crashing bore. “I’ll see you out, old man.”

  Sir Peter turned to Henrietta and Marina and bowed to them.

  “Goodbye, I wish you well on your journey,” he said,

  gazing intensely at Marina.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled, unable to meet his eyes. Albert and Sir Peter left the room and, as soon as the door had closed, Henrietta stared long and hard at her friend.

  “Well, you certainly made an impression.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Sir Peter. Did you not see the way he was looking at you?”

  Marina shook her head, miserably. All she was thinking was that Albert had ruined her last few precious moments alone with her best friend.

  “You are a goose, Marina. I would not be at all surprised if that is not the last you’ve seen of that particular gentleman!”

  “But how could that be, Henrietta? I am about to be packed off to France for Heaven only knows how long! And in spite of what your brother said, I cannot just shrug off the fact that Papa no longer wants me and Mama is dead.”

  Marina burst into tears again. Squeezing her hand, Henrietta tried her best to comfort her.

  “Darling Marina, my brother is such a fool. You are not still harbouring silly fantasies about him, I hope? Much as I love him, he is not worth bothering about. He has his head in a horse bag most of the time and is completely oblivious to anyone’s finer feelings –”

  “No, no, I have long since given up any foolish ideas about Albert,” replied Marina, wiping her eyes, “it is just that I do not want to go to France. The Solanges are very nice people, but I wish to be close to my home, my friends and Mama’s grave. I cannot do that if I am in Paris.”

  “Dearest, your Papa is not quite in his right mind at the moment – he is torn with grief. I am certain that once you have been away for a few weeks, he will realise the error of his ways and send for you.”

  Marina shook her head.

  “I am not so certain, Henrietta. Papa has become so distant since Mama died and I know that my presence irks him.”

  Leaving Wimpole Street, Marina felt as if she was never coming back. The two girls were both in tears as Marina waved from the corner of the street before disappearing into Harley Street.

  She walked quickly back home and soon was waiting for Frome to open the door for her.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Marina. You will forgive the disruption to the hall, but preparations are being made for your departure.”

  Marina soon saw that the hall was a jumble of trunks and boxes. She cast her eye over them and suddenly, saw something that looked very familiar.

  Walking over to an open box, she saw that it contained some of her mother’s possessions.

  “But what is this?” she asked, picking up a white- leather glove. “These are not my things – these are Mama’s.”

  “The Master has requested that all those articles were to be disposed of, Miss Marina. I could not say whose they are.”

  Marina looked at Frome in disbelief. Had her father taken leave of his senses?

  “You are certain that Papa asked for these items to be thrown away?”

  “Quite certain, Miss Marina.”

  All the blood seemed to drain from Marina’s head as she regarded the sorry mess of handkerchiefs, linen and costume jewellery.

  “Where is Papa?”

  “In his study, miss,” replied Frome, without a hint of emotion.

  Marina did not hesitate. Without taking off her hat and gloves, she walked quickly down the passage that lead to the study. She knocked and then, without waiting to be asked to enter, walked in.

  Her father was seated at his desk, writing. He looked surprised.

  “Papa, I fear that there has been some mistake. I have just intercepted Frome with some boxes containing Mama’s things. He is under the impression that they were to be disposed of. I came to you at once, naturally.”

  “There has been no mistake, I ordered them to be taken away.”

  “But Papa. It is too soon after Mama’s death.”

  A dark look crossed her father’s face. He looked at Marina in such a cold fashion that it made her blood run cold.

  “If you were the kind of obedient daughter I brought you up to be, you would not be questioning my decisions,” he said in a strangled voice.

  “But Papa –”

  “Do not go against me, daughter,” he shouted, the veins in his forehead throbbing, “I have made my decision and it is not for you to ask why. It is just as well that you are leaving tomorrow for I can see that you are becoming too much of a handful. A spell in France, where they understand what a daughter’s duty is, should benefit you no end. Now, we shall have no further discourse on this matter before I do something I will regret. My word is final.”

  Marina looked at her father in horror. The way he had spoken to her was so cruel, so unfeeling. There were no words of love and no reassurances. Just an icy demeanour and harshness.

  Without saying another word, she left before her tears started to flow freely. Running upstairs, she was forced to duck the footmen carrying trunks containing, no doubt, more of her mother’s clothes.

  Ellen was emptying drawers as Marina rushed into the safety of her room.

  “Miss,” cried Ellen, seeing her so distressed.

  “Leave me, Ellen. Please,” cried Marina, throwing off her hat and prostrating herself on the bed.

  Hot, angry sobs rent the air as she cried and cried into her pillow,

  ‘Nobody wants me. Not even my own Papa. Oh, Mama. How I wish you were here to protect and love me. I miss you so very much!”

  And with that, she sobbed even louder, her fingers clawing at the lace on her pillowslip until she had made small holes in it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Marina awoke the next morning with a very heavy heart.

  “Come along, miss, it might not be so bad at all,”

  trilled Ellen, as she bustled around the room checking that everything was packed. “I have heard that Paris is a beautiful city.”

  “Yes, it is,” sighed Marina, sitting up in bed, “but I don’t think that I could enjoy it even if I tried.”

  Ellen gave her Mistress a sad look and snapped shut the lock on the last trunk.

  “There, that’s all done now,” she announced, with some satisfaction.

  Marina felt as if she had nothing to look forward to.

  ‘Mama has gone, Papa does not want me and now I am being bundled off to France as if I was unwanted luggage.’

  Hot tears began to course down her cheeks. She felt too miserable to even get up out of bed.

  Just then, Ellen came back into the room carrying a tea tray.

  “Oh, miss. You must not upset yourself,” she cried,

  setting the tray down.

  “I cannot help it, Ellen. I wish Mama were here. She would speak to Papa and make him see sense.”

  Marina felt utterly helpless.

  “Today I will start my new life,” she whispered, as Ellen poured her tea, “and yet I feel as if I have no future.”

  “Come now, miss,” soothed Ellen, “your father has not said that you are never coming back, just that he wishes to be on his own for a while. To be sure, once he has had time to grieve for your Mama,
he’ll be sending for you to come home.”

  Marina sipped at her tea and felt a little better.

  “I hope you are right, Ellen, because at the moment, I feel as if nobody wants me.”

  *

  Unfortunately, Ellen’s optimism was a little premature.

  After breakfast, they started to say their goodbyes, but when Marina asked Frome where her father was, he replied,

  “He has gone out, Miss Marina. He left early this morning to visit Lady Alice Winwood.”

  ‘Why would he want to go visiting that woman, when his own daughter is leaving the country? So, Papa has not seen fit to bid farewell to me,’ sighed Marina, in a tone of despair.

  She remained silent as her luggage was loaded onto the waiting carriage.

  “I wonder if I shall ever return to this house?” she ruminated, as she stood outside and looked up at the elegant white façade.

  “Of course you will, miss,” answered Ellen, brightly. “The driver is ready to leave, Miss Marina,”

  interrupted Frome, soberly.

  Marina wondered if the man ever laughed or smiled. He always wore the same dour expression.

  Without saying another word, she climbed mournfully into the carriage.

  “I do believe I would not care if we never arrived in Paris at all,” said Marina, gloomily.

  “You must not talk like that, miss. I should feel responsible if anything should happen to you.”

  “Then, you would be the only one who would care. It is quite apparent that Papa does not share your concern.”

  “Do not take it to heart, miss. I am just glad that he allowed me to come with you – even if it is strange that he did so, don’t you think?”

  Marina thought for a while and had to agree. There would be only Mrs. Baines and the kitchen maids left at Harley Street with Ellen gone and even though she would not be there to need attention, Ellen’s duties were more numerous than just taking care of her.

  Very soon they were speeding past green fields and through sleepy villages. Marina looked out of the window yet she did not take in the views. She was too lost in thought.

  ‘I feel so lonely,’ she said to herself, ‘and the only person I have to confide in now is a servant. I know I should not talk to Ellen in such an indiscreet way, but who else is there now that Papa has sent me away?’