Josofine had kept her big blue eyes fixed on him and he knew she was absorbing every word he spoke.
Looking ahead he added,
“What I am really saying in rather a roundabout way is that if you will marry me and make me the happiest man in the world, we will have the house and the grounds but not enough money to keep it as you will see it now.”
Josofine made a little murmur, but before she could speak he continued,
“I am not asking you to give me a decision now. But I want to spend this weekend believing I will not lose you and that you will be mine for ever.”
He drew in his breath before he finished,
“But it would be wrong to deceive you and let you think that it would be all plain sailing.”
They reached a pair of impressive iron gates that were much in need of repair.
He turned up the drive with its great oak trees on either side and then ahead Josofine had her first sight of Creswell Court with the bright sun glittering on a hundred windows and turning the Elizabethan bricks pink. It was breathtakingly lovely.
She gave a little cry of sheer delight.
“Is that really your home?” she asked. “Oh, how lucky you are!”
“That is what I have always thought myself until finance became so difficult.”
He did not speak again until they drew up outside the house and as they did so a man who Robbie thought vaguely he had seen before in the village came hurrying to the horses’ heads.
“Afternoon, my Lord,” he said cheerily as Robbie climbed down. “I be told to be lookin’ out for you and I’ll see to the horses.”
Robbie thought it typical of Wenda to remember that he would require someone to look after the horses.
He and Josofine walked up the steps and into the hall.
It was Robbie who gave a gasp of astonishment.
There were three footmen, who he had never seen before, wearing the family livery.
In the hall itself the pictures, the grandfather clock, the mantelpiece and the stairs were all shining.
It looked incredibly unlike the drab dusty old place where just a few days ago he had said goodbye to his sister.
Before he could say anything, Banks came hurrying from beneath the stairs. He was looking not only smarter than Robbie had seen him for many years now but in some strange way younger.
“It’s so good to see you, my Lord, and everything’s prepared as your Lordship wanted. If you’ll go into the drawing room, I’ll tell Mrs. Stevenson you’re here. I think madam would like to tidy herself after the long drive.”
Robbie realised that Banks was saying exactly what Wenda had told him to say.
“That is most kind of you, Banks, and perhaps a footman would take Madame Frazer’s luggage out of the back of the carriage.”
Banks snapped his fingers and one of the footmen hurried out of the front door and down the steps.
“Come with me into the drawing room,” Robbie invited Josofine.
Banks opened the door for them.
Once again Robbie gasped and found it difficult not to cry out with amazement at the transformation before his eyes.
Because he and Wenda never sat in this room, it always seemed drab and dreary and now everything was glittering.
The pictures were all by famous French artists and they seemed to catch the sunshine as it poured through the windows and reflected into the room.
There was a profusion of flowers and the china on the mantelpiece and on the tables was sparkling as it never had before.
“Oh, what a pretty room!” exclaimed Josafine.
“That is just what I was thinking myself!”
As he spoke, Mrs. Stevenson, dressed as she used to be long ago in rustling black silk, appeared at the door and Robbie noticed with a smile that she even had her silver chatelaine at her waist.
“Good afternoon, my Lord,” she intoned. “We’re all very glad to see you here and I hope you had a pleasant journey.”
“We did indeed and now if you will take madam to her bedroom, I have a few things to look to before my guests arrive.”
Mrs. Stevenson gave him a smile and nodded.
He knew she was aware that Wenda was in hiding and the guests would not know that she was in the house.
Josofine joined Mrs. Stevenson and as they started to walk back into the hall, the housekeeper said to him,
“You’ll find someone waiting to see you, my Lord, in the West gallery.”
“Thank you,” Robbie replied and before Josofine put her foot on the stairs he had started to run down the corridors which led to the gallery.
As Mrs. Stevenson had indicated, Wenda was there waiting for him, giving the last finishing touch to one of the pictures.
As he walked into the gallery, Wenda put down her duster and with a cry of joy she ran towards him.
“You are here! Oh, Robbie I am so pleased to see you.”
She flung herself against him and he kissed both her cheeks before he said,
“You are either a magician or a witch, Wenda. If you had lived in the Middle Ages, they would have burnt you at the stake! I have never ever seen such a marvellous rebirth as you have achieved in this house.”
“You have not seen it all yet,” purred Wenda, “and if only we had had a little more time, we could have done better.”
Robbie put up his hands.
“I know, I know, but it is absolutely astounding. I could not believe my eyes when I saw those footmen in the hall!”
“There are four of them and I think they will all be very good, but, Robbie, I have so much to tell you and I do suppose you have someone with you.”
“Yes, of course, and she is with Mrs. Stevenson at the moment, so tell me first if I can help in any way.”
“I am just hoping I have not forgotten anything, but Banks has been a tower of strength as you might imagine. Mrs. Banks is a bit fluttery, but I feel sure you will find tonight’s dinner delicious.”
“All I can say, Wenda, is thank you, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me too soon. Something may well go wrong at the last moment. By the way no one knows yet who your special guest is.”
“That is just what I was going to ask you and it is clever of you to have kept it a secret.”
“I was tempted to tell the Bankses, but they will all be thrilled later tonight because however secret the Prince intends it to be, you know just as well as I do they will all recognise him.”
“Of course they will, but once he is behind closed doors it will be hard for anyone to suspect he is here until the weekend is nearly over.”
He then looked intently round the gallery and all the pictures had been cleaned and the parquet flooring was bright with polish.
“You really have been brilliant. How many people did it take to do all this, Wenda?”
“I have not dared to count them all, Robbie. But I think in the end nearly everyone in the village has given a hand one way or another.
“And by the way there are four men in the stables and Mr. Wentworth has been simply marvellous about the Racecourse.”
“Surely we cannot ride on it in any comfort. I was hoping His Royal Highness would have forgotten about it, although he did mention it when he suggested he came here as a guest.”
“You told me that was what he wanted,” Wenda said. “If you recall, Mr. Wentworth had some connection with the Grand National.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well he retired to the next village to us. So I went to see him and almost on my knees asked for his help.”
“And he actually agreed to help?”
“He was delighted to do so, because I think he is bored having nothing to do now he is over seventy.”
“He can hardly have restored the Racecourse in a few days.”
“He said it was impossible, but with the aid of half-a-dozen men they have put up some new jumps.”
“Jumps!” cried Robbie.
“I am sure it would amuse
His Royal Highness to watch his friends racing over the jumps even though the ground is not particularly even.”
Robbie put his arms round his sister’s shoulders.
“All I can say, Wenda, is that you are a genius and you should not be wasting your talent here in the country.”
“I must admit I was frightened we might not be in time for you, but I have never enjoyed myself more. I felt I was a General giving orders to a very large Army!”
Robbie laughed because he could not help it.
“You are such a clever girl and I only regret that you will not hear the compliments His Royal Highness and his friends will pay you even though you are anonymous.”
“At least the house looks fairly respectable, but if you had given me a bit longer I could have done marvels.”
“I am not complaining about the miracle you have performed. I am only telling you, Wenda, I think you are magnificent and it is most unfair that you cannot come into dinner so we can all toast you.”
Wenda laughed.
“I will be very busy in the kitchen with my sleeves rolled up making the French dishes Papa always enjoyed.”
“And I will certainly enjoy them too if only because you have made it all possible.”
Robbie kissed her cheek and declared,
“I have so much to tell you when there is time. But for goodness sake keep out of sight otherwise the guests will be inconveniently curious about you.”
“They are not likely to go into the kitchen or the scullery and if they did, they would hardly expect to find your sister and chatelaine of Cresell Court on her knees scrubbing the floor!”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Wenda, I hope you have found someone to do that!”
“Of course I did. I am only teasing you. In fact I myself have concentrated on the pictures and they really do look different.”
“They do indeed,” Robbie agreed, “and I am going to take the lady I brought with me round the house before the rest of the party arrive.”
“Don’t show her the kitchen, because that is where I will be and I’m sure if she is French, as you told me when you sent me the guest list, that she will fully appreciate the Fragonards and the Bouchers if none of the others.”
“She will enjoy them all, I am sure.”
He wanted to tell Wenda how much Josofine meant to him. But he thought it would be a mistake at this stage.
Wenda picked up her polish and took off her apron, which was already smeared from working on the picture frames.
Because he was afraid Josofine might be looking for him, Robbie hurried back the way he had come.
He found as he had expected that she had taken off her hat, tidied her hair and was in the drawing room.
“I have been waiting for you,” she said, “and please show me your pictures before the others arrive. If they are as beautiful as the ones here, they must be fantastic.”
“That is what I hope you will think, so come along with me, Josephine.”
He took her first to the East gallery just in case they should bump into Wenda coming away from the West gallery.
The East gallery had been cleaned up the same as the West gallery.
He showed her first a picture he thought was one of the best at The Court and his father had always said one of the most valuable in the whole collection.
It was ‘The Mystical Marriage of Saint Catherine of Alexandria’ painted by Hans Memling.
Robbie always thought that it was most attractive and yet when he looked at it now he saw that Josofine was far more beautiful than Saint Catherine.
She was thrilled with the painting and as he took her round the East Gallery, she shuddered at the macabre ‘Portrait of a Man’by Antonello da Messina and stunned by Raphael’s picture of ‘Saint George and the Dragon’.
“How can you be so lucky?” she asked, “to own all these beautiful pictures, Robbie?”
“As I have explained, it is only for my lifetime.”
“They are so beautiful,” enthused Josofine.
“But not as beautiful as you – ”
She looked at him and it was impossible for either of them to look away.
Slowly he put out his arms, then pulled Josefine gently towards him.
“I love you,” he told her, “and you are so lovely. There is no picture of a woman or a Goddess in the whole wide world as exquisite as you.”
“That is what I want you to think,” she whispered.
Then he was kissing her.
Kissing her at first gently then more demandingly, as if he was afraid of losing her.
How long they stood there in the gallery Robbie had no idea.
Suddenly there was the sound of someone running along the passage.
As they moved apart one of the new footmen burst in through the door.
“Mr. Banks says will you come at once, my Lord?” he gasped breathlessly, “because your guests be arrivin’.”
“I am coming right now,” Robbie replied.
He took hold of Josofine by the hand and drew her out into the passage.
It was not long after three o’clock and it surprised him that any of the party should turn up so early.
And then he saw Banks rushing out of the drawing room and there was an expression on his face of agitation, at the same time of excitement, and it told Robbie who it was who had come so early.
There was no need for Banks to say anything. He just opened the drawing room door.
As Robbie ventured in still holding Josofine by the hand, he saw the Prince of Wales standing in front of the fireplace looking at a picture by Boucher.
Seated in one of the armchairs and looking very elegant was the Duchess of Manchester.
Releasing Josofine’s hand Robbie walked quickly across the room and he had almost reached the Prince of Wales before he turned round.
“I welcome Your Royal Highness to my home,” he breathed, “and I apologise for not being on the doorstep, but I did not expect Your Royal Highness quite so early.”
“I would like to see your pictures before the other guests arrive,” the Prince of Wales replied. “And I am already entranced with this Boucher which I would like to possess myself.”
“It delights me to hear you say so, sir.”
Then he turned back as Josofine had just reached him.
“May I present Madame – ”
Before he could actually say her name to his sheer astonishment he heard the Prince exclaim,
“Josofine! What are you doing here?”
“Mon Parrain, mon cher Parrain!” Josofine cried. “I did not expect you and it is wonderful to see you!”
As she spoke she almost threw herself against the Prince and he kissed her on both cheeks.
Robbie stared at them in amazement.
Josofine had spoken in French and Robbie knew that Parrain meant Godfather.
Then he asked himself how could she possibly be the Goddaughter of the Prince of Wales?
“I did not know you were in England,” the Prince was saying. “Why did your father not notify me?”
“I am here,” Josofine replied, “because I have run away. Oh, dear, my wonderful Parrain, please help me. I wanted to ask you to do so, but was too frightened in case you sent me home.”
If Robbie was now looking astonished, so was the Prince of Wales.
Josofine was looking up at him beseechingly and he took her arm and sitting on the sofa pulled her down beside him.
“Now start at the beginning,” he said, “and tell me exactly what is happening and why you are here.”
Before Josofine could speak the, Duchess, as if she felt she was being neglected, rose from her chair.
“As I can see I am not wanted,” she said, “I think I will go up and rest a little after the journey. It was quite a long drive from London and I really am a little tired.”
“Of course, of course, if that is what you must do,” the Prince of Wales blustered, but he was still gazing at Josofine.
“
Forgive me, please” Robbie came in quickly, “for not greeting you as I should, but I was astonished that the lady with me is already known to His Royal Highness.”
“That is obvious,” sniffed the Duchess.
They walked towards the door and Robbie opened it. To his relief he saw Banks standing outside and with him was Mrs. Stevenson.
“Oh, this is my housekeeper, Your Grace,” he said to the Duchess. “Do allow her to take you upstairs to your room and when you have rested I want to show you some of my pictures that I believe could rival those in your own beautiful houses.”
The Duchess smiled at him and because she was really a charming and sweet person, she responded,
“I should love to when all the drama is over.”
They both laughed and then she walked away with Mrs. Stevenson and Robbie hurried back into the drawing room.
He had missed the start of Josofine’s conversation with His Royal Highness, but as he joined them she was saying,
“Papa was determined I should marry him simply because he and Mama thought it very smart for me to be a reigning Princess. But I hated him from the first moment I saw him – ”
“I can very easily understand that, my dear,” the Prince of Wales remarked soothingly.
Robbie pulled up a chair near to them and sat down.
“You are now hearing all the secrets, Your Royal Highness, that have been kept from me. I only know that Josofine is now pretending to be a married woman and she arrived alone in London knowing no one.”
“Why on earth did you not come to me,” the Prince of Wales asked Josofine. “You know I would have been delighted for you to stay with me at Marlborough House.”
“I was scared that you would think Papa was right and that I should marry that dreadful Prince.”
“What Prince?” Robbie asked because he could not prevent himself.
“Prince Frederick of Gurenburg,” Josofine replied.
“A fella I’ve always disliked,” the Prince of Wales came back sharply. “And, of course, Josofine was quite right. He would be only marrying her for her money.”
“Her money!” Robbie exclaimed as if he could not help it.
The Prince looked at him almost rebukingly.
“You must have known that Josofine’s mother had an American mother, who was an heiress in her own right and was given an annual income of forty thousand pounds a year by the Emperor Napoleon III when she was married to Antoine de Noailles, Duc de Mouchy.”
Secret Love Page 9