Seeking Love Read online

  In spite of herself, Marina felt a pang of disappointment that she no longer had Simon’s sole attention.

  ‘Really, what can be wrong with me?’ she asked herself as they left the Louvre and walked towards their waiting carriage.

  There was no denying that she was a mass of unfamiliar feelings.

  *

  The next few weeks sped past for Marina and gradually her feelings of restlessness subsided a little. True, she still longed to be home in London, but she gradually became accustomed to the Parisian way of life – even the late meals and even later nights.

  Monique had a glittering circle of friends, all of whom warmly welcomed her. They took her shopping, introduced her to more friends and generally included her in their day- to-day lives.

  “You seem to be happier,” commented Monique one day, as they returned from a hectic shopping trip for new hats. Monique had managed to persuade her to buy a lavender silk creation topped with an ostrich feather.

  “Yes, I do believe I am,” agreed Marina, clutching tightly onto her packages, feeling excited and wicked all at the same time.

  “And I will soon persuade you to change those mourning clothes.”

  “I – I am not sure that I am ready for that yet, Monique,” sighed Marina, almost wistfully.

  Now that the weather was becoming warmer and the sun shone so brightly, it was too easy for her to immerse herself in the Solanges social whirl and put aside all thoughts of her Mama’s death.

  “Ah, look, Maman has come to meet us,” cried Monique, as they settled down in a small coffee house near the Champs Elysèes. “Maman, cherie.”

  Marina felt quite envious as she kissed her mother on the cheek. Madame Solange was beaming – she had just come from a friend’s house nearby.

  “There is to be a grand ball,” she announced. “You are both invited and there will be music and dancing.”

  “And lots of charming young men?” asked Monique coquettishly.

  “Naturellement,” answered Madame Solange, “you may find yourself a good husband at such an event!”

  As mother and daughter laughed gaily together, Marina pondered whether or not she would like to attend the ball. Being around the Solange’s friends in small groups was one thing, but to be thrust in amongst the cream of Parisian Society was quite another.

  ‘I should feel like a dowdy mouse in my mourning,’ mused Marina, as the waiter brought them coffee and madeleines. ‘I shall have to feign a headache.’

  “I do hope that you will not disappoint Simon and not dance with him,” said Monique, suddenly. Marina almost jumped out of her skin as she was so deep in thought.

  She simply smiled politely in reply, as she did not wish to alert Monique to the fact that she was reluctant to attend the ball.

  Much later back at the Solanges’s residence, Marina walked into the library to find Simon sitting in one of the leather chairs, reading the newspaper.

  “Oh, I am sorry to disturb you,” she began, ready to turn around and walk out.

  “No, please,” he replied, rising to his feet, “it is I who am in your way.”

  “Not at all, this is your house,” protested Marina, drinking in his handsome features that made her heart skip a beat. “I came in here to find something to read. I know that your father likes English novels and thought I might find a good book.”

  “Papa does indeed have many titles by English authors and poets,” answered Simon, gesticulating towards a tall bookcase. “Shakespeare, Byron, Trollope, Dickens –”

  Marina advanced towards the bookcase, scanning the spines for something that would appeal to her.

  “Regardez,” said Simon, softly, taking down a book from a shelf above her head. Marina’s mouth went dry as she felt his arm brush hers. He handed her a leather-bound volume.

  “Collected Short Stories by Anthony Trollope”, murmured Marina. “I do not believe I have read it.”

  “Then I am glad that we have something here to amuse you,” said Simon, still standing so close to her that his sleeve brushed hers. “I would have been disappointed had you read everything in Papa’s English library.”

  Marina laughed as she looked around the room.

  “It would take me forever to work my way through this vast selection,” she remarked. “Your Papa loves reading, does he not?”

  “Yes, and I am ashamed to say that I do not have the same dedication to reading as he.”

  He turned his brilliant gaze to Marina and she felt as if she was melting.

  Suddenly feeling quite overwhelmed, she mumbled her excuses and left the library.

  Standing outside in the hall, she caught her breath and tried to calm herself.

  ‘What is happening to me?’ she asked herself. ‘I am not certain that I care for the way that this man makes me feel. I have no wish to become romantically involved with anyone at the moment and although he is keeping his distance, I wish that he was not quite so attentive.’

  *

  But Simon did not give up his gentle pursuit of Marina. She did indeed manage to feign a bad headache on the night of the Grand Ball and she could tell by his fallen face that he was upset not to have her company.

  The next day, he sent flowers to her room with a sweet note that said he hoped she was feeling much better and would she dine with him and Monique that evening.

  “Who are the flowers from, miss?” asked Ellen. “They are from Simon.”

  “I think the young gentleman is rather taken with you, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  Marina tucked the note away into a drawer and resolved not to look at it again that day.

  As she did, she found the note that Sir Peter Bailey had sent her.

  ‘I wonder what has become of him, he was a most intriguing gentleman – ‘

  All of a sudden a vision of his good-looking face flashed up in front of her eyes.

  She wondered if he had held his soirée and whether it had been successful. For a second, she wished she had been present.

  Realising that Ellen was talking to her, she brought her attention back to the matter in hand.

  “Will you tell Monsieur Simon that I would be happy to have dinner with him and Monique this evening, Ellen? Is my black silk gown pressed and ready?”

  “I will make certain that it is, miss.”

  As Ellen left the room, Marina walked over to her bedroom window that overlooked a quiet street. The May blossom was out on the trees and the day was fine and warm – she longed to go out for a walk, but thought that if she did, then perhaps Simon would ask to come with her. Certainly, he seemed to appear at her side whenever she left the house.

  ‘He is most persistent,’ she mused, ‘yet he has behaved impeccably at the same time. I can feel myself becoming enthralled by him slowly but surely. I do believe that I would not be adverse to him making overtures to me.’

  Marina shocked herself as she formed these thoughts. Did it make her any less the lady for thinking such things, she wondered? With no mother to guide her, she felt confused and alone.

  The day passed quickly and before she knew it, it was time to get ready for dinner. As the Solanges dined late, at nine o’clock, she had a long nap in the afternoon, but when Ellen came to wake her at half-past six, she felt terribly groggy and wished she had not given in to sleep.

  “Come along, miss, your bath has been run and you do not want the water to get cold,” chided Ellen, as she tried to hurry her into the bathroom.

  “Oh, I am so tired and I feel a little sick,” complained Marina, yawning.

  “You will feel better once you have had your bath.” Reluctantly she dragged herself into the bathroom. Ellen appeared to be even more excited than Marina – she danced around the room, humming to herself – much to Marina’s amusement.

  “Anyone would think that it was you and not I going out tonight,” remarked Marina, as she admired Marie’s skilful handiwork in the mirror.

  “That is because tonight could be the one that Monsie
ur Simon proposes!”

  “Ellen!” cried Marina, shocked at her outburst. “Monique will be with us so there is no chance of anything like that happening.”

  “Ah, but a little bird tells me that Miss Monique is suffering from a bad headache and will not be accompanying you,” said Ellen, smiling at Marie.

  “Who has been telling you such nonsense?” demanded Marina, a little testily.

  “Mademoiselle, c’est vrai,” intervened Marie, unexpectedly. For the girl had never so much as uttered a word to Marina in the time she had been in Paris.

  Marina stared at Marie, as she understood all too clearly what she had said.

  “See, I am telling the truth,” crowed Ellen, triumphantly. “Miss Monique is in bed with a headache and it is just yourself and Monsieur Simon who are going to dinner tonight.”

  Ellen folded her arms for emphasis and wore a determined look on her face. Even if her Mistress did not care for romance, then she certainly did!

  At that moment Monique’s maid entered the room. She said something in rapid French to Marie, bobbed a curtsy and left.

  “Mademoiselle Monique, she say she not go tonight,”

  explained Marie in halting English.

  “But I cannot go on my own with Simon,” cried Marina, feeling suddenly very nervous. “That would not be the done thing!”

  “Stuff and nonsense, miss,” countered Ellen, taking Marina’s evening cloak out of the wardrobe, “you are in Paris, now – not London!”

  There then came a knock on the door.

  ‘Oh, who is that now?’ thought Marina, crossly.

  Marina turned round to see Monique standing in the doorway with a beautiful pale-lemon gown in her arms.

  “I thought you would like to wear this. I am certain that your Mama would not mind if you dressed up for one night. Besides, the Saint Georges is a very smart place and I would not want you feeling out of place on Simon’s arm.”

  Marina gasped as she held up the dress. It was certainly very lovely.

  “I cannot,” she whispered.

  “Yes, she can,” came in Ellen, taking the dress from Monique who looked far from ill.

  “Now, I am going back to my room. Please enjoy yourself tonight, Marina, I am certain it is going to be a very special night.”

  With that she winked and left the room.

  “Hurry up, miss, we will have to get you changed if you are not to be late.”

  Marina allowed Ellen to undo her black dress and she stepped into the lemon gown.

  “Oh, miss. You look so beautiful,” exclaimed Ellen. “Oui, très belle,” agreed Marie, who was smiling from ear to ear.

  “Come along, Monsieur Simon will be waiting for you. I would not be at all surprised if tonight is the night he proposes.”

  “Ellen!” called Marina, shocked at what her maid had said.

  “I have seen the way he looks at you, miss. I would wager that Mademoiselle Monique has deliberately made it so that you are left alone together. Come, Monsieur will be waiting.”

  She threw the delicate beaded wrap around Marina’s shoulders and guided her out of the room.

  Marina could hardly think because she was so excited. An evening alone with Simon!

  As she descended the stairs, she could see him waiting for her. He looked up and his face flushed with pleasure – Marina knew what he was thinking.

  “I am overwhelmed by your beauty,” he said, as he took her hand and kissed it. “The coachman is waiting.”

  Marina felt as if she was walking on air as they stepped into the carriage.

  All the way to the restaurant, Simon continued complimenting her and telling her how proud he would be to be seen with her.

  “This is the finest restaurant in Paris and I will be the envy of all with you by my side,” he murmured, looking deeply into her eyes.

  She did not know how to respond, but her heart was urging her on.

  Overhead, the stars were bright as they arrived at the Saint Georges. They were shown to their table by the manager himself, who made a tremendous fuss of Marina in impeccable English.

  Simon nodded to a few tables as they waited for the menus to be brought.

  “You know many people in here tonight?” asked Marina, a little nervous. She was aware that all eyes were upon her.

  “A few,” he replied with a studied nonchalance. “Friday is a popular night to dine out in Paris. We shall have champagne, of course –”

  He clicked his fingers and within seconds, a waiter was at the table.

  Marina delicately broke off a piece of baguette and ate it. Looking around the room, she was secretly pleased that Monique had persuaded her to wear the gown.

  ‘I should have looked like a weed in a field of flowers if I had worn my black silk,’ she thought gratefully.

  The champagne arrived and the waiter made a great show of pouring it into two glasses.

  Simon picked up his glass and raised it to Marina.

  “To you and your incomparable beauty,” he declared, looking at her with his brilliant blue eyes.

  Marina blushed and took a sip. She marvelled as the bubbles coursed down her throat and almost immediately she felt light-headed.

  Simon continued to pour compliments in her direction. So much so that Marina’s heart felt full.

  ‘Am I falling in love with him?’ she wondered, as he put the best pieces of the lobster onto her plate, ‘is this what it feels like?’

  “A toi, ma belle.”

  Simon once again raised his glass and drank her health. Marina felt as if she had touched Heaven, as he had eyes for no other save for her.

  She even wondered if Ellen had been right about a proposal, but, much later, when Simon called for the bill, she chastised herself for thinking such foolish things.

  “That was a wonderful dinner, thank you.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, ma cherie. Shall we leave?”

  A soft breeze was blowing as they stood outside waiting for their carriage.

  Marina shivered a little and suddenly felt very tired and not a little disappointed.

  In her heart of hearts, she did wish that Simon had made a declaration of love for her at the very least –“Come, the carriage is here.”

  Simon’s melodious voice interrupted her thoughts.

  He helped her into the carriage and then sat very close to her. She could not help but notice that he seemed a little distracted.

  ‘Perhaps he has someone else on his mind,’ she said to herself, ‘and he is only being kind to me.’

  At last, the carriage drew up outside the Solanges’s house and Simon jumped out and helped her as she stepped down onto the pavement.

  She could see that most of the house was in darkness and that everyone was most likely in bed.

  “I shall have to be very quiet so as not to disturb Ellen. I do hope she has not waited up for me,” she said, as the butler opened the front door for them.

  “Mademoiselle Fullerton,” he said in a low voice. “I am glad you have come home, as this came for you not long after you left this evening. Mademoiselle Monique wanted to come after you, but her father would not allow her.”

  He handed Marina what looked like a telegram. She held it in her hand, her heart racing.

  ‘What if it is bad news?’ she thought, staring at the writing on the envelope.

  She began to shake so much that Simon was forced to take her arm.

  “Marina, what is it?”

  “I do not know,” she answered quietly, “it appears to have come from home.”

  “You must open it, cherie. Do not be afraid, we are all here to help you.”

  Marina took a deep breath and ripped it open –.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Marina thought that her heart would jump right out of her mouth as she opened the telegram.

  “No, I cannot read it!” she said, suddenly. “I could not bear it if it was more bad news.”

  Just then, Monique appeared at the top of t
he stairs, tying her dressing gown belt, her hair all awry.

  “Ah, I thought I heard you come home. Cherie, I have been so worried – the telegram, it is from home, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Yes, but I am too afraid to read it. Take it, Monique, you do it for me.”

  “No, cherie, it is private. I cannot do that.”

  “But I want you to.”

  Marina held out the telegram to her friend. With a sigh, Monique took it and read it quickly.

  “Well?” asked Simon, impatiently.

  “It is from Marina’s father, but I do not understand –”

  “What does it say? You must tell me at once,” Marina implored her.

  Monique shook her head and then began to read it out loud,

  “Please come back to London at your earliest convenience. There is no emergency, but you are required at home. Sincerely, Papa.”

  “What a very odd telegram,” said Simon, taking Marina’s hand. “What can it mean?”

  “I have no idea. It cannot be that Papa is ill, or that someone has died. Otherwise he would have said so.”

  “Then why must you leave us?” asked Monique, yawning. “If it is not an emergency, then I do not understand the urgency.”

  “Papa is a very forceful man, as well you know, Monique. When he has made his mind up that something has to be done, I must jump at once to his wishes.”

  “But you are having such a good time. It seems a pity for you to leave now, when you have made so many friends.”

  Marina touched her friend on the arm.

  “Dearest Monique, I shall be back. Perhaps Papa has had time to reconsider his position and has realised that it is best that I am at home with him after all.”

  Monique yawned again and turned to leave.

  “I am going back to bed, cherie, we shall talk about this more in the morning. I shall ask my maid to find out the times of the boat-train to London. Good night.”

  Simon took her hand gently.

  “Marina, do you want to have a brandy with me or will you retire?”

  “No, thank you, I think I shall go up to bed. I will need to ask Ellen to begin packing at once.”

  “Surely not at this late hour?” he replied, a surprised look on his face.