Love Holds The Cards

Chapter one ~ 1784-2

He walked into the marble hall noticing that the butler and three footmen were in attendance. It was something that would not have occurred to him on other days and it was because he knew now that he was unlikely to see such an array in the future that he counted them, wondering vaguely what their wages were and how much they actually cost him during the year.

“Bring me some breakfast.”

The words coming from his lips sounded harsher than he intended simply because he was so disturbed.

“Your pardon, my Lord,” the butler replied, “there is a young lady to see you in the library.”

“A young lady?” Lord Wynchingham repeated the question almost stupidly.

For a moment he thought that Cleo must be waiting for him.

The thought was incredible, but it crossed his mind that possibly she intended to give him back some of the money that he had spent so freely on her – the emerald and diamond necklace that had lost him eight thousand pounds, a diamond bracelet at five thousand pounds, pearls at three thousand pounds and at least ten thousand pounds on her carriages and horses.

He pulled himself together.

“A young lady,” he repeated. “What is her name?”

“She didn’t say, my Lord. She merely said that it was imperative she should see your Lordship.”

Lord Wynchingham turned towards the stairs.

“Tell her I am indisposed,” he began and then checked himself.

Perhaps, although it was a forlorn hope, this woman, whoever she might be, had news for him. It was unheard of that anyone should call at such an early hour, especially a member of the opposite s*x, and there must be a reason for it.

He would see her.

He walked along the passage to the library, which lay at the back of the house. The footman hurried to open the door.

As he entered the long book-lined room, which looked on to the small but exquisite private garden with its Grecian Temple and ornamental sundial, it seemed to Lord Wynchingham that the room was empty.

Then, at the far end and almost obscured by the chair she was sitting in, he saw a tiny figure.

For a moment he thought that it was a child who was waiting for him. But she rose from the chair and he saw she was in fact a girl wearing a muslin fichu around her shoulders and a chip straw bonnet over her fair hair.

Lord Wynchingham, walking towards her, realised that he had never seen her before in his life. She was a complete stranger.

Pretty. there was no mistaking that, but certainly no one of any consequence. His experienced eyes took in the full-skirted grey poplin dress that, unless he was much mistaken, had been home-made. The ribbons on her bonnet certainly owed nothing to Bond Street and the gloves her tiny hands were covered with were of the cheapest cotton.

“Are you Lord Wynchingham?”

The voice that asked the question was low and almost breathless. It was surprisingly a woman’s voice and had a quality about it that commanded attention.

“That is my name,” Lord Wynchingham replied. “You wish to see me?”

The girl curtseyed.

“I came especially to see you, my Lord,” she said simply. “I am Tina Croome.”

She paused, looking at him, and he realised that she had expected him to recognise the name, but it evoked no response.

“Tina Croome,” he repeated. “I am sorry. Should I know who you are?”

She made a little sound, half a laugh, half a sigh.

“Of course you should,” she answered. “I was christened ‘Christina’, but everyone has always called me ‘Tina’ because I am so tiny. But surely, surely you know who I am?”

She had the bluest eyes that he had ever seen in a woman. They were not the blue one expected to find allied with fair hair and a complexion of milk and roses. Instead they were dark blue, almost the colour, he thought, of the enamel that decorated some diamond and gold snuffboxes that his mother had collected and which stood in a cabinet in. the drawing room.

‘They will have to go,’ an inner voice taunted him.

“I apologise,” he said almost harshly, “but I am very occupied this morning, perhaps you will be more explicit. I am not very good at riddles.”

To his astonishment a suspicion of tears came into her eyes.

“Please, oh, please, don’t be angry with me. I know it was wrong, but I wrote and wrote and you never answered my letters.”

“You wrote to me?” he asked astonished.

“Of course,” she answered. “I have always written to you every Sunday. It was the day we were told to write letters home and, as I had no home, I naturally wrote to your Lordship.”

Lord Wynchingham put his hand to his head.

“I regret to inform you,” he said, “that I have not the slightest understanding of what you are saying. You are, I suppose, sure that you have come to the right house and that I am the person you are looking for?”

“If you are the Earl of Wynchingham, then I am looking for you,” Tina Croome replied. “Surely you realise, my Lord, that I am your Ward and that you have been paying for me to be at school for the last five years.”

Something stirred at the back of Lord Wynchingham’s mind.

“Croome,” he said. And then again, “Croome!”

The child in front of him, because she seemed little more, clapped her hands.

“You have remembered!” she exclaimed. “My father was Charles Croome and he saved your life. Do you recall that?”

Once again Lord Wynchingham put his hand to his aching head.

“Of course, I remember,” he said. “There was that skirmish in America, it was not really a battle, my horse was shot under me and I was knocked unconscious. If your father had not stood over me and kept the enemy at bay, I would not be here at this moment.”

“Oh, we discussed it so often,” Tina cried. “My father told me how brave you were, how you struggled to your feet and the two of you fought your way back to join the rest of the Company. My father admired and respected your Lordship which was why, when he was dying, he made me your Ward and left me in your care.”

“Yes, of course, I remember now!”

Lord Wynchingham could remember a letter arriving. He had read it through and then thrown it across the desk to his secretary.

“Do what you can for the child,” he had said. “I gather Colonel Croome has left her no money. She had best go to school. Anyway don’t bother me with the details.”

His Solicitor had looked worried.

“I would just like to know, my Lord, how much.”

Lord Wynchingham had interrupted sharply.

“I told you, I want no details. Do what you think best. God knows, it’s bad enough that other people must saddle me with their children without my having to play Nanny to them.”

His instructions had evidently been carried out to the letter.

“I understood that you were at school,” he said slowly. “Those were the instructions I gave.”

“I have been at school for the last five years,” Tina replied, “but I cannot stay there indefinitely. Surely you must see that. I am too old – they don’t want me there any more.”

“You are too old?” Lord Wynchingham repeated.

Tina nodded.

“I am seventeen and a half.”

She said it as though it was indeed a prodigious age.

“And they can’t keep you any longer,” Lord Wynchingham echoed almost stupidly.

“Even if they would, I would not wish to stay,” Tina replied. “I am grown up. I want to see the world. I wanted very much to come to London and, of course – to get married.”

“Of course.”

Lord Wynchingham sat down suddenly in one of the wing armchairs. Tina sat herself opposite him arranging the folds of her full skirt with tiny meticulous fingers.

Lord Wynchingham cleared his throat.

“The position is a little difficult,” he began.

“Oh, I know that,” Tina interrupted. “I knew you might be angry at my coming without permission, but what could I do? I have been writing to you for the past six months explaining the whole situation. The only replies I received were from your secretary who always made excuses – ‘his Lordship is away’ – ‘his Lordship is very preoccupied with other affairs’.”

She mimicked the pompous tone, which was so like that used by his secretary that Lord Wynchingham could not repress a smile.

“So at last I decided to wait no longer,” Tina said. “I told the Headmistress that I had heard from your Lordship and you were willing for me to come to London. They were all very kind. In fact, in a way, I think they were sorry to see me go. I took the stagecoach and here I am.”

She paused a moment and then with her eyes shining and her hands clasped together, she said,

“It’s so exciting to be in London. And this house is magnificent, just the sort of place I thought you would own!”

She had the enthusiasm and excitement of a child.

Lord Wynchingham had the uncomfortable feeling that he was about to destroy a butterfly or shoot a songbird as he said,

“Unfortunately you cannot stay.”

Tina’s face fell.

“Oh, please,” she said, “please don’t send me back.”

She moved from her chair, crossed to where Lord Wynchingham was sitting and slipped down on her knees beside him.

“I beg you not to send me away,” she pleaded. “I am too old. The other girls will laugh when I tell them. I know it was a lie, but I could not help it. I told them that you had planned to introduce me to Society. In actual fact – ”

She hesitated for a moment and a soft blush stole over her cheeks.

“ – I even told them that you would present me to the Prince of Wales.”

Her skin was transparent and the colour came and went in a manner that he had never noticed before in any woman's face. But it was her eyes that held him, those vivid deep blue eyes, which he saw now were surrounded by thick dark lashes, a strange and unexpected contrast to the ripening corn of her hair.

Almost as if she knew what was surprising him, she took off her bonnet and flung it onto the floor beside her,

“Look at me,” she said. “I will not disgrace you. I am not beautiful, I know that, but I am pretty, indeed prettier than many of the other girls and, if I had fine clothes and my hair powdered, you would not be ashamed of me, I assure you, my Lord.”

Her small red mouth trembled and the blue eyes were suddenly suffused with tears.

“Your Lordship loved my father,” Tina whispered. “I always believed that you would wish to repay your debt of gratitude by helping me.”

Lord Wynchingham rose to his feet.

Never had he imagined in the whole of his life that anything could be so difficult to say.

Never had he thought that an explanation would seem as if he deliberately killed something that was beautiful and helpless.

“Get up, Tina,” he said.

There was a tenseness in his voice that surprised even himself.

“I have to talk to you and to talk sensibly.”

For a moment she remained kneeling, her little fingers clasped together, her face raised to his.

Then with a movement that he recognised as being as exquisitely graceful as anything he had ever seen on the stage, she rose to her feet and came towards him where he stood with his back to the fireplace.

“You are worried about something,” she said softly. “It’s not me, is it?”

“No, it’s not you,” Lord Wynchingham replied and then added as an afterthought, “You merely add to the troubles that are already in existence.”

“I am sorry,” she replied simply. “Tell me about them, perhaps I can help.”

“You?”

“I used to be able to help Daddy when he was quite desperate.” she answered. “I may not be clever. The Headmistress always said that I was not in the least clever, but I had ingenuity. Yes, ingenuity, my Lord, that is what she said about me.”

“It would need more than ingenuity to help me out of my difficulties,” Lord Wynchingham said wryly.

“My mother said two heads were better than one,” Tina remarked and made it sound as though indeed it was the wisdom of the ages.

“Your mother is not alive?” Lord Wynchingham enquired.

Tina shook her head.

“She died long before my father, when I was only nine. But I can remember her quite clearly.”

She paused for a moment and then, as Lord Wynchingham said nothing, she went on,

“Pray let’s not talk about me. I can tell you all about myself later. Let’s talk about you. What is wrong? What has happened to upset you.”