Love at the Tower (3 page)

‘This would not be to Papa's taste,' she reflected, as she took off her hat and gloves. ‘It is far too ornate. Papa is much fonder of Chinese antiques.'

“Hello, miss. Did you enjoy a pleasant journey?”

She spun round to see the familiar face of Newman, the butler, before her.

She sighed with relief.

“I am so pleased to see you, Newman!” she cried, “Nanny said that some of the servants had left and I would have hated it if you had been one of them.”

Newman allowed himself a wry smile.

“It would take more than a few of your father's ill tempers to persuade
me
to leave Trentham House, miss.”

Robina felt cheered immediately.

Perhaps things would not be so bad.

Nanny was still here and so was Newman.

“And my father – is he at home? I am eager to see him!”

It was all too obvious by the look upon Newman's face that there was something amiss. He gazed down at his highly polished shoes before answering.

“I am not certain as to his whereabouts at just this precise moment, miss.”

Robina was aghast.

“Surely he knew of my return home this evening?”

“Of course, miss. That is why he asked Nanny to fetch you and not one of the footmen.”

“You must know where he is, Newman. You know everyone's movements before they even know where they are going themselves. Is he not waiting for me?”

He sighed and gave Robina an almost pitying look.

“Sadly I am no longer privy to all of Sir Herbert's engagements.”

Robina stared at him as if she could not understand the words.

‘What on earth can he mean?' she said to herself. ‘How can our own butler not know where the Master of the house is?'

She took off her coat and handed it to Nanny.

She did not know if she should run to the library or whether to go upstairs to knock on his bedroom door.

“You must be so tired, Robina,” suggested Nanny. “Why don't you go up to your bedroom and I will ask for a tray with some supper to be brought to you.”

Nanny could plainly see the turmoil raging within her, but she was powerless to help. Sir Herbert had made her promise that she would not say anything about the new arrangements until he had spoken to her himself.

“But I want to see my Papa!” she answered Nanny with her voice getting shriller.

“You will see him in the morning,” said Nanny in a soothing tone, but Robina was in no mood to be placated.

She turned and grabbed Nanny by the shoulders, her fingers digging into her arms.

“Where is he, Nanny? Do you know? Why won't anyone tell me where he is?”

A noise at the top of the stairs made her look up.

With much hope in her heart that it was her father, she glanced up to see the figure of a woman in evening dress come slowly down the stairs towards her.

“You must be Robina – welcome home,” mouthed the woman with very little warmth in her voice.

Robina could only stare in disbelief at the apparition walking towards her.

The woman was dressed in a green velvet dress in the latest style with large puffed sleeves decorated in black lace and dainty ribbon shoulder straps.

Around her neck glittered a necklace of enormous emeralds and she wore matching earrings. There was also an obsidian brooch set in gold at the front of her dress that was almost as large as a pullet's egg.

Robina's first impression was that she was terribly overdressed and that, although very beautiful, she was no longer a young woman.

“Who – who are you?” she stammered, unable to take her eyes off the glittering figure who stood only feet away from her.

“Your father will explain everything to you. Now do hurry, he is waiting in the library – he has some news for you I am certain you will want to hear.”

Robina's heart hammered in her chest.

Her mouth felt dry and the prospect of seeing her father suddenly did not seem half as appealing.

“Come along,” said the woman, beckoning for her to follow as she walked towards the library, “we are about to have dinner, rather late, I am afraid, and I know that he wishes to speak with you before it is served.”

Mutely she allowed herself to be led to the library.

‘Who is this woman who makes me feel a stranger in my own home?' she pondered, as she entered the library.

Her father was standing by the desk, looking rather healthier than he had the last time she had seen him. His cheeks had filled out and he had lost the haunted look that had blighted his face.

“Robina, I am so glad you have come home again,” he began, only meeting her eyes for a fleeting moment.

‘There is something not right here,' she mused and did not know whether to approach him or if she should stay where she was.

She waited for him to speak, but the silence seemed interminable.

The strange woman in the evening dress crossed the room and went to her father's side.

There was something in the way that she looked up at him – in mute adoration as if he was the centre of her world – that made Robina feel sick to her very stomach.

Her head spun and she grasped hold of a chair to steady herself. Not only was she feeling tired, but she was disorientated.

After speaking only French for so long, she was not certain that she really understood just what was happening, as her father continued,

“Robina, my dear, there is something I need to tell you and I do want you to be very happy for me,” he said at last, taking the woman's hand.

As Robina stood facing her father and the strange woman, it was if she was hearing what he was saying from a very long way away.

“Robina,” he resumed, “I know how much you love me and know that you would want me to be happy. I have to confess that since your dear mother died, I have been very lonely.”

Robina opened her mouth to protest that had he not sent her away, then he might not have found himself in that unenviable state, but the words would not come.

“Laura has been a great comfort to me and I don't know what I would have done without her counsel and her company. So when I tell you that we were married just two weeks ago, I am certain that you will be pleased for me and will embrace your new stepmother and welcome her to Trentham House.”

“No! It cannot be!” she cried, throwing her hands up to her face. “Mama has barely been dead a year – it is too soon.
Too soon
!”

“Now, my dear, is that any way to greet your new Stepmama?” chided Laura, looking at Robina as if she was just a petulant small child.

“Papa,
how could you!
” she shouted, throwing him a hurt look before turning and running out of the room.

Tears blinded her as she ran upstairs.

Unable to see where she was going, she plummeted into Nanny who was carrying a large bundle of laundry.

“Robina. What on earth is the matter?”

“Oh, Nanny. Did you know that Papa had married
that
woman?”

“Yes, I did, dear, but I could not tell you. It was not my place. I don't agree with this hasty marriage any more than you do, but it has happened and so we must get on with life.”

“But how could he? It is far too soon after Mama's passing.”

Nanny ushered her into her room and put down her pile of laundry. She took a handkerchief from the dresser and handed it to her.

“Your father has been very much happier since her Ladyship came into his life and you want your Papa to be happy, don't you?”

“Yes, of course, but why did he have to send me away? If he had not done that, then perhaps he would not have felt it necessary to seek comfort elsewhere.”

“My dear, men are not the same as us – they are not very good at being on their own. Whereas when a woman's husband dies, as my dear own Jack did, we are able to carry on without a man around, but men need a woman to care for them – and I am not talking about a daughter!”

“Oh, Nanny! When Papa invited me home again, I did not think for one moment that I was going to feel as if I was an intruder in my very own home. This new woman – where has she come from? I did not see her at the house when Mama was alive.”

“I believe she was married to one of your father's friends, who had died tragically a year before your Mama. Lady Wolverton, as she was then, went to Europe after the funeral and came back a year later to find your Papa was in the same boat.

“They were two lonely souls and then they found each other. Your Papa was so unbearable before she came into the picture – you should be grateful to her!”

“Nanny, don't say that – it makes me feel sick!
I
should have been enough for Papa and if he was lonely, he should have brought me back from Paris.”

“My dear Robina, he found it too painful to look at you. Do you not know how like your Mama you are?”

“But Mama had grey eyes and I have brown,” she replied, wiping hers with a soggy handkerchief.

“It doesn't matter to your Papa, you are the very image of her.”

“I don't understand – ” sniffed Robina.

“You will when you fall in love,” answered Nanny, mysteriously.

“Oh, I shall
not
fall in love with anyone.”

Nanny laughed fondly.

“You have been saying that ever since you were a little girl. But you will one day, you wait and see.”

“I cannot imagine that there is a man out there that would make me want to ignore my own child!”

“It happens, dear, it happens. Now dry your eyes. Your father will probably be upset that you were not more welcoming to her Ladyship. She can do no wrong in his eyes. Although I have to confess that no one can replace your Mama in my heart, this Lady Wolverton, as she was, has made him a happy man. Now it is late and I must take these downstairs for the morning. Good night, Robina.”

“Good night, Nanny, and thank you.”

“You will forgive me for not telling you about your Papa's new wife?”

“Of course, Nanny.”

But Robina felt passionately that she would never understand why her father needed to remarry if she lived to be two hundred.

‘Papa cannot love me any more otherwise he would not have married her. He must have deliberately kept me in France so that he could enjoy her company without the encumbrance of me around. Will he come to the cemetery with me on Saturday or will he drag that woman with him? Surely he would
not
?'

She walked to her window and peeped through the curtains. Outside it was very dark and she wondered what changes her stepmother had wrought in the garden.

‘It must have been she who was responsible for the phaeton and that huge clock in the hall!'

She undressed and climbed into her bed – she was exhausted.

She thought of her stepmother and father enjoying an intimate dinner together.

‘I hope I spoiled their appetites,' she grumbled and then immediately despised herself for being so ungenerous.

She still loved her father but this – this woman!

It was some hours before she eventually fell asleep. All she could think about was the strange new woman now living under the same roof.

*

The next morning, Robina feigned a headache and asked for breakfast in her room.

She was just taking the top off her first egg, when Newman knocked and came into the room.

“Excuse me, miss, but the Master wishes to see you in the library.”

Robina put down her spoon and hesitated.

“Very well. Will you please tell him that I shall be down as soon as I have finished breakfast?”

“Yes, miss.”

In the cold light of morning she bitterly regretted having behaved so hysterically the night before. She knew that her father could be an unforgiving man and she would have to throw herself at his mercy.

Fifteen minutes later, breakfast hastily eaten, she was downstairs knocking on the library door.

“Come in,” came her father's deep voice.

She entered and threw herself down at his feet.

“Oh, Papa!” she howled, “I am so sorry for the way I behaved last night. Please,
please
forgive me!”

She dared not look up – she gazed at his shoes and noticed with some pleasure that he was wearing the handmade leather shoes that her mother had given to him a few Christmases ago.

After what seemed like an age, her father took her by the chin and raised her face up to his.

“Don't kneel down on the floor, Robina, I expect that you were simply overtired from your journey and then you were overwhelmed by my news. Get up, please.”

She rose up and her father took her hand.

“Oh, Papa, I missed you so much,” she whimpered, as she tried not to cry.

“And I missed you, Robina. But you have to realise that my marriage to Laura is no reflection on my love for you. I was lonely and she helped me through a bad time.”

“Why did you not ask me to return home?”

He sighed and toyed with a jotter on his desk.

“I am afraid I cannot explain my reasons to you, but I want you to know that I thought of you every day.”

“But I am your daughter and my place is with you.”

Her father looked up as if to say something just as his new wife came into the room.

“Ah, my dear, there you are. Good morning to you, Robina. I trust you slept well?” she said coolly.

‘She speaks as if I was a guest in my own home,' Robina fumed to herself. She noticed that her stepmother did not wait for an answer to her question.

She was behaving, in fact, as if Robina was not in the room.

“Darling, I do hope you will be here for luncheon as I have asked Mrs. Bailey to prepare your favourite soup and there will be fresh peaches for pudding.”

Robina looked at the way she caressed her father's arm as she spoke to him – and in front of her!

‘Mama would never have made such a spectacle of herself!' she thought.