Seeking Love

CHAPTER ONE - 1897-1

CHAPTER ONE - 1897“No, Papa! You cannot mean this!”

Marina Fullerton stood in the drawing room in front of her father with her eyes fast filling with tears. Even though she was trying her best not to show her emotions, she was shaking all over.

“My mind is made up, Marina, and I think it will be best for both of us.”

“But to go away from here, so soon after Mama’s funeral. Who will put flowers on her grave each week and tend to it?”

As she looked up at her father, she could see that to argue was futile.

Although only twenty years old, tragedy had already blighted Marina’s life. Six awful weeks earlier, her beloved mother had suddenly been killed in a tragic riding accident.

She had been staying at the country estate belonging to an ageing relative who was ill, when she decided to go out for a ride on an unfamiliar horse. The stable boy had warned her mother that the horse was a trifle feisty, but, being a highly competent rider, she had ignored him.

She had been cantering along a hillside when a sudden shot from a nearby farmer’s gun had alarmed the horse. He bolted and she lost control. She fell off into a ditch as the horse plunged through a hedge.

It was only because one of the ostlers had accompanied her that she was found as soon as she was. Sadly, her neck was broken and she had died instantly.

Marina remembered only too well the day that she had returned from a pleasant afternoon with her friend, Lady Henrietta d’Astuges, to find the servants weeping and the curtains in the drawing room ominously closed.

She had thought she might die from grief and had found no comfort in her father, who had locked himself away until the day of the funeral.

Marina had been forced to carry on and deal with all the arrangements as her father sat in his study and drank heavily.

When he finally emerged, the day before the funeral, he was a changed man.

Although always strict, he now was cold and distant. Every attempt Marina had made to bridge the widening gap between them was rebuffed.

She had never felt so alone in her life – and it was only through the support of her dear friends, Henrietta in particular, that she had kept on going.

And now, only moments earlier, her father had stood there and told her that he could not bear to have her, his only daughter, around the house any longer.

Marina’s heart was breaking as her father turned his back on her and regarded the pale green walls.

She wished fervently that her tears would move him, but it was quite clear that he could not even bear to look at her.

She had often been told that she was the image of her mother and now, it would seem, it was counting against her.

After what seemed like an age, Sir Henry Fullerton turned around and, without meeting her imploring gaze, answered her. His voice was clipped and cold – his ice-blue eyes were without expression or warmth.

“Putting flowers on your Mama’s grave will not bring her back, Marina. No, you must start your life afresh and a stay in France would be most beneficial. You were always weak on languages and now you will have the perfect chance to improve yourself.

“To this end, I have contacted a good family whom I have known for years. Monsieur and Madame Solange have written and expressed their willingness to give you a home for the foreseeable future. You should be grateful for such an opportunity.”

“But, Papa,” implored Marina, falling to her knees, “I do not understand why I cannot stay here with you. Surely you will need me more than ever now that Mama is no longer with us?”

Sir Henry’s expression darkened and Marina realised that she had taken one step too far. If there was one thing her father hated above all else, it was to be challenged once he had made up his mind. His fierce temper was not something she enjoyed provoking.

“Daughter, do you dare to question my wisdom?” he fumed, his words heavy with threat.

Although he had never laid a finger on Marina, she had grown more and more frightened of him and his unpredictable moods during these past few weeks She had seen the way he snapped at the servants – even Frome, their butler, who had been her father’s manservant long before he had married her mother – and how testy he was with Monty, the family dog.

The poor, faithful, flat-coated retriever had found himself totally neglected by his Master and even now, was being walked by Jonas, the footman, as her father appeared to have lost all interest in him.

“No, Papa,” she replied, after a long silence.

“Then, I am glad to hear it. You will leave for France next Friday. I will make all the travel arrangements. Ellen, your maid, will be travelling with you as chaperone. It would not be seemly for a young girl to go alone.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Very well, I have said all I wanted to. You may go.” Marina slowly rose from the floor, feeling utterly miserable.

She gave her father one last imploring glance, but he would not meet her eye. He stood by the window that looked out over Harley Street and did not turn round.

Sadly, Marina turned the brass beehive handle of the drawing room door and left, her heart breaking all over again.

‘He dismissed me as if I was no more to him than a servant,’ she moaned to herself, as she climbed the stairs up to her room. ‘I do not know what I have done to deserve this.’

Waiting for her in the room was Ellen, who had been her nurse when she was a small child and now that Marina was grown up had stayed with the family, tending to her every need.

Marina was not old enough to have a lady’s maid, but Ellen performed most of the duties that one would have undertaken.

“Miss Marina. You have been crying. What is wrong?”

The motherly maid came rushing up to her as soon as Marina set foot inside the dusty-pink bedroom. Ellen was Irish, through and through, and did not think twice about hugging her young charge.

“Come and sit down on the bed beside me, miss, and tell me what on earth has happened.”

“Oh, Ellen!” cried Marina, bursting into tears again. “Papa has abandoned me!”

“There, there, what nonsense is this? You’ll be missing your Mama, that is all.”

“No, Ellen. Papa does not want me any more. He has told me.”

“Your Papa loves you very much, Miss Marina –”

“Then why is he sending me away to France?”

Ellen pulled away from Marina with a look of horror on her face.

“Surely you are mistaken. Your dear Mama has just left us. Why would he not want you by his side?”

Marina’s slender frame was shaking with sobs, her face wet with tears.

“Nevertheless, it is true. He has just told me that I am to leave next week for the Continent and that you are to accompany me. Has he not told you of his plans?”

It was now Ellen’s turn to look shocked. “No, he has not, Miss Marina.”

“I do not think that Papa can love me anymore, Ellen,”

whispered Marina, her voice choking with emotion. “Nonsense!”

“So why is he sending me away?”

Ellen hugged her once again, a perplexed look on her broad, ruddy face.

“That I don’t know, Miss Marina. But to be sure, he’s not in his right mind, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Could he not have sent me to the country, even? We have many relations in Suffolk and I should not have minded a long stay there. But France! I will not be able to visit Mama’s grave or see my friends. It is as if he is sending me into exile for looking like Mama.”

She began to cry once more.

“Perhaps Papa will change his mind,” she sighed, in between sobs.

“Perhaps he will,” replied Ellen.

But no sooner were the words out of her mouth than Mrs. Baines, the housekeeper, knocked and came into the room.

“Ah, Ellen. There you are. I have come to tell you that you will shortly be leaving for France with Miss Marina. Sir Henry has kindly given you permission to have the afternoon off to go shopping for whatever you will both require for the trip. Frome will give you the money after lunch.”

Silently she left the room with a nod of her head towards Marina.

Marina stared at Ellen, miserably.

“So,” breathed Ellen, after digesting what Mrs. Baines had just told her, “your Papa meant what he said after all.”

“I did not doubt it for an instant. Papa is not a man who is prone to flights of fancy.”

“I had better check your travelling clothes at once, miss, and I must make a list of what we will need.”

Turning to look at the photograph of her Mama that stood on the nightstand, Marina wished fervently that she had not died and that she had not been so foolish as to ride such a dangerous horse – ‘Mama! Oh, Mama!’ she wept to herself. ‘Why are you not here – alive and well. You would not have allowed Papa to send me away as if I was a servant.’

*

The next day, Marina’s father called her to his study and informed her that she would be leaving on Sunday.

“You had best say your goodbyes to your friends,” he added, as he handed over the tickets to the boat train, “you will not be seeing them for a long while –”

“Yes, Papa,” muttered Marina, feeling tears beginning to prick at her eyes.

She regarded the tickets in her hand and wished she could fling them into the grate where a small fire burned.

“The Solanges are good people, Marina, and you will enjoy their company. Monsieur Solange is very cultured – you will learn much from him. I trust him implicitly.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Now, leave me, I have to pay a call on a friend and shall be going out very soon. Do not expect me back for dinner as I shall dine at my Club.”

Marina turned around and left the room, the tickets burning her palm.

She went upstairs and made a list of the people she wanted to see and then crossed off the ones whom she would not have time to visit.

‘Georgiana is at home this afternoon, so I shall call upon her. Lucinda, I can visit tomorrow and Irena on Thursday. That just leaves Henrietta and Albert.’

Marina gazed at her reflection in her dressing table mirror. Her cheeks burned as she thought of her best friend’s brother, Albert. She had long had a soft spot for him and had even fancied herself to be in love with the young man.

He was as fair as Marina was dark, with a dashing moustache and twinkling blue eyes. Henrietta said he was a rogue and a ne’er-do-well – far more interested in playing cards and chasing around stage doors. He had never looked at Marina as more than an insignificant friend of his sister and now she was being forced to leave him behind.

*

Marina took no joy in saying her goodbyes to her friends. Georgiana had been quite beside herself and Lucinda refused to believe it until she showed her the tickets for the boat train.

On the Thursday, Marina made herself ready to make her most difficult call to see Henrietta. They had met at school and had remained firm friends ever since.

As she stood outside the house in Wimpole Street, Marina’s hand shook whilst pulling the knob on the bell.

Her heart beat so fast that she could scarcely breathe as the familiar figure of Nicholls, the butler, loomed into view.

“Ah, Miss Fullerton, Lady Henrietta is in the morning room, do come in.”

Nicholls opened the door for her and Marina hurried inside. Henrietta was sitting doing some embroidery, her face a picture of concentration. Upon seeing her friend, she tucked her needle into the stretched silk and rose to greet her.

“Marina. What a lovely surprise.”

The two girls embraced and, almost before she could say anything, Marina felt tears pricking at her eyes.

“Oh, Henrietta. I have come with very sad news.”

“What is it – it’s not Monty?” asked the pale-skinned, fair-haired girl.

“Please tell me that Monty is not dead.”