Love at the Tower

by Barbara Cartland

  Robina knew that she was utterly powerless.

  As her father seemed uninterested in her feelings, there was really nothing she could do.

  ‘If I go against him, then I will risk losing his love altogether. I want to be a dutiful daughter, but how can I when that path leads to utter misery for me? If I was his son, would he be seeking to force me into marriage?’

  But if she had been a son, perhaps Robina would not have had the same struggle with her stepmother for she would not have been considered as a rival for her father’s affections.

  ‘Such is the lot of mere women,’ she reflected and, not for the first time, she wished she had been born a boy.

  Robina stayed by the fountain for some time, lost in thought.

  She did not see her stepmother going out in the new brougham.

  *

  Later she decided to write to Hortense Lamont.

  She went up to her bedroom, pulled out a sheet of paper from the drawer and began to write in French.

  In the letter she asked if she could come and stay indefinitely should her situation not improve.

  ‘There, it is done! If necessary I will voluntarily remove myself to France. I shall take Nanny with me and we shall find ourselves a small apartment to live in.’

  Nanny. Where is she?

  Robina realised that she had not seen Nanny for a couple of days.

  She rang for Molly and asked her,

  “Molly, where is Nanny? Is she ill?”

  “I don’t know where she is, miss.”

  “Would you go and find her, please? I wish her to keep me company.”

  The girl looked confused and Robina suddenly felt fear gripping her heart.

  “Is Nanny well? Has something happened?”

  “No, miss,” muttered Molly, “I will go to find her.”

  “Thank you,” answered Robina, a little unnerved by their discourse.

  But Nanny did not appear and Molly returned with some excuse about Nanny having to go back to the village for a while.

  And there was still the letter to Hortense to post.

  She could not possibly trust Molly with the task, so she decided to take the letter to the Post Office herself.

  She put on her hat and gloves and ran downstairs.

  ‘I’ll ask Charles to make the new brougham ready,’ she thought as she walked towards the stables.

  The courtyard was a hive of activity as usual.

  Jack was busy with a barrow of straw, while Charles was supervising the grooming of her stepmother’s horse.

  “Good morning, miss,” he called and waved.

  “So, has my stepmother taken poor Pearl for a ride, yet?”

  “No, miss. We’re about to put her out to the field so she can have a gallop. It’s a shame as she’s a sociable horse and likes us humans.”

  “Perhaps I should take her out. Tell me, Charles, can she pull the brougham?”

  “Not really, miss. She’s not too suited to it. But she be a fine mount for a lady.”

  Robina stroked the dapple-grey mare fondly.

  “If you’re wantin’ to go out today, miss, why don’t you take her? The Mistress won’t notice.”

  “I had come to ask for the brougham – ”

  “Oh, it won’t be possible, miss. The Mistress took it out earlier.”

  “Oh, she did not mention she was going out when I saw her earlier.”

  “Gone into the town, no doubt,” suggested Charles, picking up a bridle. “Shall I get the phaeton ready for you instead?”

  “No, saddle up Pearl. She shall not linger unloved in her stall any longer.”

  “Right you are, miss. She’ll be thrilled to be taken out good and proper like.”

  Robina felt a delicious sense of wickedness. If her stepmother refused to exercise her horse, then she would.

  “I hope Firefly will not be too jealous!”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about him, miss. He’s out in the field with Peony and Hercules. They’re busy eatin’ the clover and chasin’ each other.”

  Robina laughed.

  She jumped up on the box and mounted Pearl. She could sense that the mare was excited at the prospect of a ride out.

  “There’s a good girl,” crooned Robina, patting her neck. “Come on, we shall let you stretch your legs.”

  Very soon she was galloping down the drive. Pearl was not as solid as Firefly, but she had a sure step and was surprisingly swift.

  Robina took her across the fields and up to a small wood on the outskirts of the village.

  Pearl plunged through the green canopy without a second thought and Robina laughed out in delight as they passed through a wide thicket.

  “It’s a pity Stepmama does not take you out more often. You are a brave little horse.”

  Remembering her letter Robina turned Pearl around and headed towards the village.

  On the way she passed by The Three Oaks Inn and saw, to her utter amazement, the new brougham standing outside.

  ‘How peculiar! Why is Stepmama visiting the inn?’

  However, she did not linger in case her stepmother appeared and saw her, so she urged Pearl on and they rode into the village.

  She posted the letter and even though a part of her wanted to ride past the inn again, she refrained from doing so.

  ‘My Stepmama is up to something, but I dare not confront her about it. I shall have to find out through some other means.’

  By the time she returned, all manner of theories had occurred to her.

  ‘Was Stepmama meeting Lord Drury at the inn? Or was it some another man? If she is deceiving Papa, then I must endeavour to uncover evidence of it. Surely he would send her packing if he found her to be unfaithful to him?’

  Much as she realised it would hurt him, she secretly wished her stepmother’s virtue to be questionable – would that not make things a great deal easier for her?

  She returned Pearl to the stables and as she slipped in through the French windows, she heard her stepmother’s voice in the hall.

  ‘So, she is back,’ thought Robina, as she stood in the shadows in the corridor by the stairs.

  “Newman, please don’t allow anyone to disturb me, I am going to take a nap once I have had luncheon in my room,” she heard her say.

  ‘Perhaps I shall have a chance to speak with Papa,’ Robina told herself, as she emerged from the corridor.

  The dining room was ready for luncheon.

  “Good afternoon, miss,” Newman greeted her brightly as she entered.

  “What is for luncheon?” she asked in anticipation as the long ride had made her feel hungry.

  “Cold chicken and a selection of vegetables.”

  “And for pudding?”

  “A peach tart, miss.”

  Robina sat down and gleefully awaited her father’s entrance.

  She did not have to wait for long as he entered the room a few moments later.

  “Ah, Robina!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. “I am so pleased that you and I will have the opportunity to talk. Laura is a little tired after a morning of charity work in the village. I think it depresses her to see such poverty.”

  Robina was quite taken aback.

  She could not see her undertaking any charity work in The Three Oaks Inn!

  “Did she say what she was doing precisely? I often find myself with time upon my hands and perhaps I could join her,” she said carefully.

  “Oh, I think it is tending the sick and looking after the children whose parents are forced to leave them so that they can go out and earn money.”

  “I did not realise that there were so many waifs and strays in the village.”

  “‘If you look, so ye shall find’ – is that not what the Bible taught us?”

  Robina merely smiled in reply.

  So her stepmother was not being truthful!

  Even if her father believed this stuff about feeding stray children, she did not! There was indeed a charity for the poor run by the Churc
h, but usually the helpers visited nearby villages.

  “I have ordered my floral tribute for your Mama’s grave,” said her father suddenly, “it is being delivered this afternoon along with your own.”

  “When shall we visit the cemetery?”

  “I have ordered the phaeton to be ready for us after breakfast. Laura will not be coming with us as I told her it would not be necessary.”

  Robina smiled at him gratefully.

  “I have asked the Vicar to attend us and say a few words. It will be a simple reading and a blessing.”

  Robina reached out across the table and touched her father’s hand.

  “Thank you, Papa,” she said in a low tearful voice. “That is a wonderful thing to do. I am certain that if Mama is up in Heaven looking down on us, she would be pleased to be remembered in this way.”

  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 ag
ain 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!’