Seeking Love Page 7

“No,” said Marina, with a short laugh. “I will leave it until morning. Good night and thank you once more for a wonderful evening.”

  For a moment, Marina was sure that Simon was going to kiss her. She could see in his eyes that he would dearly love to take her in his arms – yet he held back.

  “Good night, Simon,” she whispered, feeling disappointed.

  *

  The next morning Marina showed Ellen the telegram from her father.

  “What do you think of this?” she asked, holding it out to her.

  Ellen took it and then slowly began to shake her head. “I could not say, miss, but perhaps he has had a change of heart. Your father is not a cruel man, he was simply overcome with grief.”

  “Yes, that is true,” agreed Marina, “but the wording is so strange and so devoid of any affection. If he meant me to come home for good, surely he would have said more?”

  “Ah, miss, you know men. They never say what is truly on their minds.”

  Marina looked at her, blankly. With so little experience in the ways of the world, she did not have a clue what Ellen was talking about.

  ‘I have so much to learn,’ she ruminated, ‘I am an innocent in so many matters. A man like Simon has so much to teach me.’

  Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of him and the disappointment of the previous evening seemed to melt away in the face of the more pressing matter of her father’s telegram.

  “Ellen, we must begin to pack at once. I do not know if we should take all our belongings with us as I have no idea when or indeed, if, we are returning to Paris.”

  “Then, perhaps I should only pack for a few days, miss? Just in case –”

  “Ellen, I am hoping that we will be going home for good. No, please pack everything.”

  “Very good, miss.”

  *

  Ellen had just finished the packing when Monique knocked.

  “There is a train to Calais at midday for the ferry,” she said, as she popped her head around the door.

  “That means we have an hour before we have to leave. Only an hour.”

  Monique came in and embraced Marina warmly. “You will soon be back, I do hope.”

  “Much will depend upon Papa’s humour when I reach home,” replied Marina. “I am hoping that he now wants me by his side and will welcome me with open arms.”

  “Now, come, join us for a little drink before you leave. We have the servants bringing in champagne.”

  “But it is too early in the day,” protested Marina. “It is never too early for champagne!”

  Even so, Marina eagerly ran downstairs some fifteen minutes later when Marie announced that the Solanges were waiting for her in the dining room.

  She hoped that she would be able to spend at least a few moments alone with Simon before she left. She wanted to know that she meant something to him.

  “Bon voyage, Marina,” shouted the Solanges, as she entered the dining room. The moment she stepped through the door corks popped noisily.

  Marina smiled and looked over to where Simon was standing. She noticed at once that he seemed preoccupied and that he stood some distance away from everyone else in the room.

  “Come, Simon. Have a glass of champagne to toast Marina’s journey,” said Monique, walking up to her brother and fondly touching his arm.

  “No, thank you,” came the curt reply.

  Monique raised an eyebrow and returned the glass to the tray untouched.

  “I do not know what is ailing my brother this morning,” she whispered to Marina, “he is behaving so strangely.”

  Marina’s heart sank as she waited in vain for a glimpse of the Simon who had courted her so ardently the previous evening. He did not even look once in her direction.

  She tried to ignore her feelings of desperation as the Solanges drank her health.

  ‘It is as if last night did not happen,’ she thought, as the time approached for her departure.

  All too soon, the butler came into the room to announce that the carriage was ready to take her and Ellen to the station.

  “So soon,” exclaimed Monique. “Tant pis!”

  She embraced Marina tearfully promising to write to her every day.

  But as she held her friend, Marina’s attention strayed over her shoulder to the distracted figure of Simon, who stood by the window, apparently oblivious to the fact that she was about to leave, perhaps for a very long time.

  “Please come again. You are always welcome,”

  sniffed Madame Solange into her handkerchief.

  Eventually Simon approached her and took her hand. “Goodbye, I hope you have a safe passage,” he said,

  before kissing her hand in an almost desultory manner.

  Marina withdrew her hand feeling quite upset. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Monique casting worried glances at her brother.

  “You will be back soon, I know it,” she soothed, taking Marina by the arm and leading her into the hall.

  However, Marina had the distinct feeling that something was going on of which she had no knowledge.

  She felt quite desolate by the time she climbed into the carriage. Everyone seemed to be in tears. However Simon did not come out to wave her off.

  “How odd,” commented Ellen, as they drove off towards the station.

  “What is?” asked Marina, fighting back her tears. “Monsieur Simon did not wave to you.”

  “He was probably busy,” answered Marina, casting her eyes downwards.

  “Well, I think it’s odd,” persisted Ellen.

  “I would appreciate you keeping your thoughts to yourself,” snapped Marina, quite uncharacteristically.

  Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted speaking to her loyal servant in such a sharp fashion.

  “I am sorry, Ellen,” she said, as they approached the station, “I am not accustomed to champagne so early in the day, it has made me quite out of sorts.”

  “No need to apologise, miss, I’m sure,” replied Ellen quietly.

  Marina felt that the journey ahead was going to be arduous in more ways than one.

  *

  It was, indeed, an dreadful crossing. The weather took a turn for the worse and a storm blew up tossing the ship from side to side.

  Both Marina and Ellen were very sea-sick. By the time that they arrived in Dover, the pair were exhausted.

  “It is too late to get the train to London,” sighed Marina, as their luggage was loaded onto a waiting carriage, “we should find a hotel and stay the night. We will feel better in the morning.”

  Ellen instructed the coachman to take them to the best hotel in Dover while Marina settled down in her seat. It was not long before they were in their hotel room, preparing for bed.

  Both Marina and Ellen slept soundly that night. It was quite late by the time they arose from their beds and Ellen had to plead with the hotel manager to let them have some breakfast.

  “We should make our way to the station, miss,” said Ellen, as they finished their meal. “I have checked with the porter and there is a train at eleven o’clock.”

  “That means we should be home in time for afternoon tea,” declared Marina, brightening up. “I do hope that Papa will be at home when we arrive.”

  She felt much lighter as she waited in the lobby for Ellen to return while the poor porter and bell boy were struggling with their vast amount of luggage.

  They caught the train with plenty of time to spare, and Marina’s thoughts turned to Simon’s strange behaviour.

  Rummaging around in her carpetbag, she pulled out the bundle of letters that contained the note from him that had been attached to the flowers he had given her.

  Pulling off the ribbon that held them together, a rather crumpled letter fell out into her lap.

  ‘What is this?’ she queried, smoothing it down upon her lap. ‘Oh, goodness. It is that letter from Sir Peter Bailey inviting me to his soirée on the twenty-fourth.”

  She thought quic
kly, and then turned to Ellen who, for once, was travelling with her.

  “Ellen, what is the date today?”

  “It is the twenty-first, miss.”

  Marina quickly decided that if Simon was no longer interested in her, she would explore a new option.

  “I wonder if I reply today, whether the invitation will still stand?” she said out loud.

  “What is that?” asked Ellen, a little puzzled.

  “Sir Peter Bailey – I met him briefly before we left for Paris – he has invited me to a soirée at his home.”

  “I would expect he would be glad to see you, miss, if he wrote to invite you.”

  Marina felt reassured, but she remained curious over Simon’s behaviour and spent the rest of the journey wondering if she had misread his intentions towards her.

  At Victoria Marina waited nervously while Ellen found them a Hackney cab. London smelled and looked very much the same as when she had left.

  “It seems like only yesterday we were catching the boat-train to Paris,” she commented, as the Hackney cab sped off laden with their luggage.

  “I am glad to be back. My, I’m looking forward to some good honest toast and butter,” declared Ellen.

  Marina smiled to herself. Her faithful servant had hardly grumbled at all during their stay abroad, apart from bemoaning the state of French bread.

  “I do hope that Papa will be there to greet us,” said Marina quietly.

  “To be sure he will, miss.”

  “I wish I shared your certainty.” She sighed.

  It was not long before the Hackney cab arrived at Harley Street.

  It was late afternoon and Marina felt quite tired. She had still to recover from their storm-tossed crossing, while Ellen seemed as bright as a button.

  Almost on cue, Frome opened the front door and a strange young boy scurried out to bring in the luggage.

  “Who is that?” asked Marina, as she greeted the expressionless Frome.

  “The new hall boy, Miss Marina,” he answered, dourly.

  Walking into the hall, Marina looked to see if her father was at home, but there was no sign of him. Instead, she was surprised to see that the hall had been completely redecorated and that a new hallstand and two large ornate urns now stood at the foot of the stairs.

  “Frome, where is my father?” she asked, rapidly taking in the changes.

  “Out in his carriage, miss,” he intoned, “he will be returning shortly.”

  ‘Well, this is a fine welcome,’ thought Marina. It was then that Frome handed her two letters.

  As Marina looked at them, she noticed that they both appeared to have been written by the same person.

  ‘There is something familiar about this writing – ’ she thought, then dived into her carpetbag to bring out her bundle of letters.

  Sure enough, the handwriting on the letter from Sir Peter Bailey matched that of the two new ones.

  As she walked upstairs, she began to open them. They had been sent the week before, asking her once more to attend his soirée.

  ‘He is really quite insistent,’ she concluded, as she absentmindedly went to open the door of her bedroom. ‘I shall have to write to him today and let him know the reason for not replying is that I was away. He could not have heard Henrietta and me discussing my imminent departure.’ Looking up from the letters, she made way for Ellen who was attempting to carry in a large box containing the hats she had bought in Paris.

  “Goodness. Where on earth has that cheval mirror gone to?” she demanded.

  Marina took a good look around the room and her mouth fell open with shock.

  The long mirror that had always stood in the corner had disappeared and there was now a gap where it used to be.

  “And did you notice those two hideous urns at the foot of the stairs? I think the Master has quite gone mad! They are far too large for the hall and no doubt will get broken by that clumsy oaf of a new boy.”

  “Yes, I thought it was very strange. Papa has never been one for unnecessary ornaments and did not allow Mama to clutter up the house.”

  “Well, one thing is for certain, someone has been in this room and has moved things around. Why is the chest of drawers over there and what is that lamp stand doing by the window? Tch!”

  Ellen let out a huge sigh and bustled over to the offending article. Picking it up, she carried to the place where it had originally stood and plonked it down with a satisfied grunt.

  “There. I shall have words with Mrs. Baines about the liberties that have been taken in here. Someone has been poking their nose in where it is not wanted.”

  Marina smiled at Ellen, but she knew she was right. Somebody had been interfering and she did not like it either. It made her feel odd to think that someone had been in her room.

  She went and sat on her bed and once more took out the letters that Frome had given her from Sir Peter.

  “He is quite insistent that his soirée will not be complete without me,” she said, re-reading them both. “I must confess that it is very flattering to be so wanted by such a good-looking gentleman, especially when I have been apparently rejected by Simon Solange.”

  Ellen watched her Mistress as she looked at the letters and could not resist adding her opinion.

  “Well, miss. If this Sir Peter is as handsome as you say, I would not be wasting my time wondering about other silly gentlemen who do not know when they have struck gold. If you write a reply now, I could run it down to the Post Office.”

  Marina smiled gratefully at her ‘It is as if she can read my mind, sometimes,” she thought fondly. ‘Mama was like that – she always knew what I was thinking and if I was in trouble or sad. What would I do without Ellen in my life?’

  “Thank you, Ellen. I will write to him after I have seen Papa. We cannot take anything for granted until I have found out what is at the root of all these changes around the house.”

  “If you ask me, miss, he is trying to rid himself of painful memories. Did your Mama not choose all the furnishings and colour schemes herself?”

  “Yes, she did,” remembered Marina. “Mama loved to decorate and was never happier than when she had just found the perfect ornament for a room. That missing cheval mirror used was hers.”

  “Yes, I remember, miss,” replied Ellen, with a tinge of sadness in her voice. “When I first came to work for your mother and father, it used to stand in their bedroom. I think she brought it with her from her childhood home. It had been her grandmother’s, if I remember rightly.”

  “Why, yes,” murmured Marina. “I do believe that is what she told me.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying, miss, your father will not easily rid himself of memories by throwing out a few sticks of furniture.”

  The mood was broken when a knock came at the door. It was Frome, wearing the same expression as usual.

  “Your father has returned, Miss Marina. He is in the library and is waiting to see you, if you would make your way there at once.”

  “Good luck, miss,” said Ellen, hugging her Mistress tightly.

  “Thank you, Ellen. I must confess I am a little nervous.”

  “I am going down to see Mrs. Baines at once,” bristled Ellen. “I do not like it one bit when furniture is moved around without my knowledge. Most unsettling.”

  “I agree – now, I should go. Papa will be waiting for me.”

  Marina’s heart was beating hard as she walked downstairs.

  She paused for a second before opening the library door to smooth her hair and compose herself.

  Opening the door, she could see her father standing, reading a letter. As he sensed her entry into the room, he barely looked up.

  There was no word of greeting and no sign of affection. Marina felt quite deflated.

  “Ah, Marina, you will no doubt have noticed a few changes around the house since you were last here and I want you to know that things are now very different. However, I deemed that the changes were necessary and I find that they are ve
ry welcome to me.”

  “Yes, Papa, I see that you have had the hall redecorated –”

  “Please do not interrupt, daughter,” he snapped, much to Marina’s surprise. “That is not what I meant.”

  She hung her head so that he could not see the tears welling up in her eyes. Marina suddenly felt very scared indeed. What could he be referring to?

  “Yes, Papa,” she murmured, her mind whirling.

  “Now, since your Mama left us, I have come to the conclusion that a man is not meant to live alone –”

  ‘He is about to say how sorry he is to have sent me away!’ Marina thought, hopefully.

  “ – and I have to tell the truth, I have found my current situation quite unbearable. It is not enough to have just my daughter around. I need a woman to care for me of my own age. So, with this is mind, I have summoned you back from Paris to inform you that I will shortly be marrying again.”

  Marina let out a small cry – she could not help herself.

  ‘Replace Mama! What madness is this?’ she thought, horrified and quite unable to prevent the tears from falling.

  ‘Papa must be crazed with grief for that is the only explanation for such a turn of events.’

  She was about to open her mouth to protest but her father simply raised his hand and shot her a look that begged no interference with either words or gestures.

  “I hear from Monsieur Solange that you had a most agreeable stay in Paris and so I think it would be best if you returned there as soon as possible. Before the wedding, if you can arrange it. My new bride, Lady Alice Winwood, has no wish to be a stepmother and I want to spend time alone with her. Moreover, her wish is my command.”

  “No! This cannot be. Forced out of my own home!”

  she cried, getting up.

  “Sit down, daughter. I have made up my mind and no one will change it,” he replied sternly.

  ‘But I thought that Lady Alice was just a friend. This is all so sudden. She does not know me, so why is she being so cruel? I would not be in the way as I have my own life. All I ask is that I can stay here in my own home.’

  Marina wanted to run to her father and throw herself down at his feet, but as she regarded his angry expression and tense posture, she realised that he had detached himself from her and that any entreaties on her part would be futile.