Love at the Tower (12 page)

He allowed Robina's hand to rest on his for a few moments.

‘Papa does still love me. And Mama too,' thought Robina, blinking back her tears.

She felt a strong surge of emotion as they sat there and finished their meal together.

They talked about the house and the renovation and then he asked her about the Earl.

“Have you relinquished your post at the Castle?” he asked as the peach tart was served.

“No, Papa, but there is a family problem that he has to resolve and so I am not required for a few days.”

“Ellis?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“I count myself most fortunate that I do not have a wayward son such as he, but I am still concerned over this matter of your attitude to Lord Drury.”

Robina flushed red with embarrassment.

Upsetting her stepmother was one thing – but how she hated Papa to be angry with her.

“I am so sorry, Papa, but I cannot marry a man I do not love.”

“Love may grow, Robina. I know he is not in the first flush of youth, but he is a good man with considerable means. You would have a very comfortable life with him and I should not have to worry about you.”

“But Papa, do you not wish me to be happy in the same way that you and Mama were?”

He looked fixedly into the far distance and avoided meeting her gaze.

She could see he was recalling all the sweet days he had spent with her Mama. After a long pause he seemed to check himself and answered,

“You are too romantic, Robina. I have come to believe that it is much better to marry someone you are not much in love with, then if anything happens to them, it would be a great deal easier to bear.”

She was about to answer, when Newman entered and announced that Sir Herbert had a visitor.

“Ah, a little earlier than I had expected,” he sighed, “will you please excuse me, my dear?”

Robina nodded and watched sadly as he left.

‘Why does he deny me happiness in this way?' she thought, feeling terribly let down.

She had had such high hopes of persuading him to see things from her point of view and she had failed.

‘It would seem that losing my Mama has made him so jaded towards the very notion of romance. I must resign myself to leaving for France.'

*

Saturday morning dawned, fine and warm.

Robina put on full mourning and spent time looking at her mother's photograph before she went down to breakfast.

‘A whole year without you, Mama,' she whispered, as she looked into her mother's smiling eyes. ‘It does not seem possible.'

Downstairs her father was in a solemn mood. He barely acknowledged her as she entered the dining room.

Laura was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is Stepmama?” asked Robina, as she sank down into an armchair. The bombazine-crepe dress rustled as she made herself comfortable.

“She is out again – yet more charity work,” said her father with an exasperated tone creeping into his voice.

“She must feel as if she is intruding on our grief, so I expect that is why she removed herself.”

Her father did not reply.

Newman came in and Robina noticed that he was wearing a black armband over his jacket. She smiled at him and acknowledged this small show of thoughtfulness.

‘Mama was very fond of Newman. She was a good judge of character and would be most touched to see him honouring her memory in this way.'

Immediately after breakfast, Newman came in and announced that the carriage was ready for them.

Robina donned a black cape and waited in the hall as Newman brought out the floral tributes from the kitchen.

“They have survived quite well, miss,” he said in a quiet respectful voice, as he carried them to the carriage.

“Yes, they have,” she agreed, gazing at the mound of white carnations that made up her father's tribute.

The arrangement she had chosen was a small posy of yellow roses – she had always given such a bouquet to her mother on her birthday.

The phaeton had been highly polished so that one could see one's face in its shiny black doors and Robina noticed that black had replaced the dark red curtains.

She climbed in and waited for her father to join her.

Her mother was buried in the local churchyard in an elegant tomb with four columns to resemble a Greek temple.

St. Matthew's Church was at the edge of the village and it was where Robina had been christened and confirmed.

She had not felt able to face any of the services at the Church since she had returned from France, as there were too many memories attached to the place.

As the phaeton pulled up at the Church, she hoped that the Vicar would not reprimand her for not attending his Services.

She need not have worried too much, as he said a prayer, gave a blessing and then disappeared to leave them to their memories.

Robina marvelled at the fine carving of the tomb and the inscription that was simple yet poignant.

She laid her posy behind the railings and waited for her father to rest his wreath of carnations against it.

They stood for some moments in silence – Robina did not meet her father's eyes for she knew that she would see tears there.

She wanted to weep and wail as a wave of grief hit her, but she restrained herself.

She could not, however, prevent a single tear from coursing down her cheek.

‘I do so wish I had a friend I could confide in,' she reflected, as they stood by the tomb.

She immediately thought of the Earl.

‘I just wish he would summon me to the Castle,' she thought, as they made their way across the churchyard to where the phaeton was waiting for them.

As they pulled away, Robina took the opportunity to ask her father about something that was troubling her.

“Papa,” she began, hoping he would hear her out, “I am still finding it difficult to understand why you felt that you had to marry again so soon after Mama's death.”

He sighed heavily as if he did not wish to answer the question, but after a while, he responded,

“I was so very lonely after your Mama died. It was as if my entire world had collapsed. She was everything to me and I found it so hard to cope without her. When Lady Wolverton appeared, it was as if your Mama had sent her from Heaven.”

“But Papa, you had me! Surely if you had kept me at home instead of sending me off to Paris, I could have comforted you?”

“Robina, you completely fail to understand, you are my daughter and I have need of a wife!”

She could not help herself – hot tears scalded down her cheeks.

“Furthermore, whilst we are on the subject, I would ask you to be more pleasant and amenable to Laura. She is a sensitive woman and she feels as if you are not accepting her. She only has your best interests at heart and I think it is very kind of her to search for a suitable match for you.”

“But Papa – ”

“No, Robina, I will not hear the same arguments. You must promise me that when Lord Drury comes to dinner again you will be compliant with our wishes. You must at least let him call on you and pay you court. If you find him utterly disagreeable, then we will have to discuss the matter further at that point. If you love me, then you will do this small thing for me.”

“Yes, Papa,” answered Robina, feeling torn.

She did indeed love her Papa, but did it have to be at the expense of her own happiness?

“Good, I am glad that you have seen sense at last,” he said with a satisfied air.

By the time they reached home, Robina was feeling very downhearted.

‘Papa's love seems to be dependent upon me doing as he says,' she thought, climbing down from the carriage. ‘I cannot do anything that would jeopardise it.'

As they entered, Newman approached Robina.

“Excuse me, miss, but a letter has come for you.”

“Is it from the Earl?” she asked eagerly.

“I believe so, miss. It bears his crest.”

Her hands were shaking as she took the letter.

“Thank you, I will read it upstairs,” she said, trying to control her sudden excitement.

Upstairs she closed the door firmly and took off her hat, gloves and cape.

She sat in her armchair and ripped open the letter.

“
Dear Robina,

I am so sorry I have found it necessary to keep you away from the Castle these past days. I am not at liberty to discuss the reasons at length in this letter – suffice to say that my brother plays a part in it.

I am also mindful of the fact that this weekend is the anniversary of your mother's death, but I would ask that you return to the Castle at your earliest opportunity, as there is a matter of some delicacy that I would discuss with you.

Kind regards, Robert Hampton.”

‘Now here is a fine thing!' she mused. ‘This letter poses more questions than it provides answers. I will make my way over to the Castle first thing on Monday.'

She put the letter between the pages of a book and lay down on the bed for a while with her thoughts whirling.

‘What can Ellis have done now? I had thought he had surpassed himself by attempting to assault me. I can only think that the young lady whom he compromised has put in an appearance – or perhaps she is engaged and her fiancé has challenged Ellis to a duel!'

All kinds of wild ideas ran through her mind as she lay there.

‘But it is all conjecture until I visit the Earl. I must wait until Monday to see what the mystery behind this very strange missive might be.'

In fact Monday could not come soon enough.

*

She felt grateful that the weekend passed peacefully enough. Her stepmother made no mention of Lord Drury and her father seemed almost affectionate towards her.

On Monday Robina decided to leave for the Castle a bit later than usual and was glad that she did, for just after nine o'clock, a delivery man brought the new riding habit she had ordered just before she had left France.

As Molly brought in the box, Robina could not wait to open it. She dismissed the girl and eagerly cut the string.

Tearing off the lid and several layers of tissue paper she saw her new riding habit in a deep wine colour.

“Oh! It is so lovely,” she gasped, as she shook the jacket from the box.

Running to the mirror she pulled it on and admired her reflection. The dark colour suited her fair skin so well and made her brown eyes appear chestnut-coloured.

The jacket fitted her perfectly and emphasised her slender figure. She held the skirt up to her body and saw that together the effect was stunning.

‘I shall wear it today,' she decided, unhooking her skirt and slipping into the new one.

She hoped she would not be too warm in the jacket, but thankfully the weather was not as fine as last week.

Running downstairs in a great state of excitement, she completely forgot her riding gloves. She was halfway to the stables before she remembered them.

‘Goodness. I cannot possibly ruin my hands again by not wearing them.'

She remembered the last time she had done so – the night she had flown Trentham House to avoid Lord Drury – and that she had given herself blisters that had only just healed up.

She turned back towards the house and ran upstairs.

She opened her bedroom door and was shocked to see that Molly was there, rummaging through her chest of drawers in a way that did not suggest she was rearranging them, but searching for something.

“
Molly
! What are you doing?”

She looked up and her mouth fell open in surprise.

“Oh, miss. I-I was looking for some mending.”

“In my private drawers that you know you are not allowed to touch?” questioned Robina.

“I am sorry, miss. I must have forgotten.”

“I think you had better leave the room, Molly. I am in a hurry so we shall speak of this later.”

Molly hung her head and left the room.

Robina was furious.

‘How dare she! She must have been put up to it by my stepmother.'

Robina found her gloves and went back downstairs, unsure as to what she should do.

She could reprimand the girl, for certain, but how could she confront her stepmother? She had no firm evidence that it was she who was at the bottom of it all and she may say that as Mistress of the house, she was entitled to look there.

‘I will have to deal with this matter later,' thought Robina firmly, as she approached the stables.

*

As soon as she was riding Firefly, she forgot about Molly's sly behaviour and began looking forward to seeing the Earl once more.

On arrival at the Castle she noticed that the builder's cart was parked at the side of the Castle next to the Tower.

Men were mixing cement and carrying hods full of bricks up the winding stairs.

‘Things are clearly well underway,' she thought, as she dismounted Firefly and walked towards the Earl who was standing at the base of the Tower in deep discussion with the foreman.

“Ah, Robina,” he cried, with his eyes lighting up. “Can we meet by the stable field in fifteen minutes? I am certain that you will enjoy looking at my horses. I have a new Arab stallion I would very much like you to see.”

“Oh, very well,” replied Robina, a little taken aback that he had not asked her into the Castle.

She wandered off towards the stables and found the Head Groom.

“His Lordship has told me that I may view his new acquisition.”

“Aye, miss – come this way.”

“This be Saladin,” he said, indicating a handsome white stallion in the stall next to Firefly.

“My goodness. He is so beautiful!” cried Robina, putting her hand out to stroke the horse's nose.

“Better horse you won't find in the whole County,” boasted the Head Groom before disappearing.

Robina admired the stallion for a few moments and then, having made sure that Firefly was not getting jealous, she made her way to the nearby field.

She enjoyed watching the horses running free and the Earl had a lush green field exclusively for their use.