Theresa And The Tiger

Chapter One ~ 1869-1

Chapter One ~ 1869The flowers on the grave were already beginning to fade.

Theresa picked one or two of the dead carnations from the wreaths and told herself that tomorrow or the next day she would take them away.

Her mother had always hated dead flowers and she herself felt as if something beautiful had died every time she looked at one.

She put the little bunch of primroses that she had picked earlier in the morning on the head of the grave and remembered how her mother had always said every spring,

“The snowdrops are beginning to show and so are the primroses! The winter is nearly over and is it not lovely to think that the sun will soon be warm and we shall be able to spend a great deal of time out of doors?”

The lilt in her voice had made Theresa feel that it was more exciting to be out of doors than inside and she knew now that what she would miss more than anything else were the walks with her mother in the woods.

She would miss too the rides they took together over the fields and she remembered the times when she was small when they would picnic by the stream and afterwards she would swim in the cool clear water.

It was not only the things she could remember that were so painful, but the knowledge that she was now alone!

The one person she had loved, the one person who had understood what she was trying to say, who always gave her new ideas and what she thought of as new inspirations, was dead.

‘Oh, Mama, how could you have left me?’ she asked. ‘How am I to do without you?’

It was hard to hold back the tears that came to her eyes, but her mother had always said that it was wrong to be anything but dignified and controlled in public.

“In your position, my darling,” she said, “you have to set an example to other people. Always remember that if you cheapen yourself and behave badly or commonly other people will follow you.”

Theresa, looking down at the grave and thought that there were very few people who would look on her as somebody of importance and follow her example,

Ever since her father had left them and gone to live abroad she and her mother had stayed very quietly in the old Dower House to which generations of Dowagers had retired once their sons had inherited Denholme Park, which was always known in the village as ‘The Big House’.

Theresa had often thought that the Dower House, which was a fine example of Queen Anne architecture, was far lovelier than the Big House, which was a mansion of grey stone erected on the site of an earlier house by her great-grandfather.

It was huge and ponderous and, even when run by an army of servants, uncomfortable.

The Dower House always seemed to be filled with light and laughter when she and her mother were together.

But only she knew how miserable and unhappy her mother had been when her husband finally left her and how the dark lines under her eyes in the morning made Theresa know that she had cried all night.

Her mother tried hard not to show how miserable she was or how much she missed the man she loved.

Only when Theresa was much older, in fact just before her mother died, had she spoken to her confidentially and she understood much that had mystified her before.

“Your father married me because I was very rich,” her mother had said. “I did not realise it at the time, but because he was so handsome and dashing I fell head-over-heels in love with him.”

She drew in her breath before she went on,

“Oh, my precious, be very careful who you give your heart to. And to a woman it is an agony beyond words to love while knowing one’s love is not returned.”

There was so much pain in her mother’s voice that Theresa had clasped her fingers together until the knuckles showed white.

But she did not say anything and her mother had continued,

“Be very very careful to be certain that you are loved for yourself before you agree to marry any man, however charming and however persuasive. Money can be a joy or a curse!”

She was silent for a moment before she went on in a low voice,

“And yet, if I had my time over again, I would feel that, even for the short time your father appeared to love me and we were happy together, it was worth all the suffering that came afterwards.”

There were a thousand questions that Theresa wanted to ask her mother, but she knew that the moment of confidence had passed and it would be a mistake to press for more.

But gradually it all came together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and many of the things that had seemed incomprehensible when she was a child began to make sense.

She had to rely on little bits of information dropped by her relations on what she herself remembered from years past and, of course, inevitably the gossip of the older servants who found it impossible to keep their feelings to themselves.

“It’s a cryin’ shame, that’s what it be, the way ’er Ladyship’s been treated.”

“’Andsome is as ’andsome does is what I always says and his Lordship’s downfall be ’is looks. No woman can resist ’im!”

There were dozens of other such remarks that remained in Theresa’s memory until she had been old enough to realise that her father’s philanderings with other women had started soon after he and her mother were married.

First came his mysterious visits to London, which he referred to as ‘business affairs’, and then there were his journeys to Paris.

It was several years afterwards before Theresa heard his visits there described as ‘an orgy of extravagance with the most expensive charmers’.

She did not then know what that meant.

But soon, as the scandal of what was happening in the gayest City in the world percolated through to England, she heard about the beautiful women who attracted wealthy gentlemen from all over Europe and forced them to lay their fortunes at their feet.

At first what they said about her father was only a whisper when it seemed to Theresa, playing with her toys and later reading her books in a corner of the drawing room, that the conversation invariably came round to Paris and what was happening there.

“Of course with the Emperor giving a lead, what can you expect anybody else to do but follow him?” was one remark and another,

“It is said that La Païva, who is the most expensive of them all, wears two million pounds worth of jewellery!”

Theresa could not understand exactly what was meant by ‘the most expensive’, but, when her father returned from Paris the first time, she had heard her mother crying bitterly and saying as she did so,

“Why should you take my money to spend on those creatures? They would not be allowed to flaunt themselves in any civilised Society!”

She had not heard any more, but the next time her father went to Paris her mother did not cry but only walked about the house with a pale face and tight lips.

Theresa was therefore aware that her father had once again taken with him a large sum of money to pay for his extravagances.

Now, as she thought of what her mother had suffered over the years, Theresa looked down at the grave and said very quietly,

“I will never marry!”

It was a vow and she knew that she would keep it. Never would she allow herself to be humiliated and suffer the agony her mother had suffered.

Things became very much worse in the last few years when her father was seldom at home.

There was a woman in London who attracted him greatly and despite the whisperings and gossip it was a long time before Theresa learnt that the lady in question was the wife of one of the most distinguished men at Court.

That her father was in love was to her unmistakable.

When he came home and she now guessed it was only because he needed more money, there was a dashing raffish look about him.

There was also a light in his eyes that she was old enough to be aware denoted an excitement like a lion in pursuit of his prey.

She did not understand what it really meant because she was so innocent, but there was something aggressively masculine about him.

Although she disapproved of the way he treated her mother, she found it impossible not to admire him and not to enjoy the bittersweet fact that he was there with them.

“Don’t go away, Papa,” she pleaded the last time she had seen him. “Stay with us! I want to ride with you and when you talk to me it is very exciting for me.”

Her father had looked at her and said,

“You are growing up, Theresa, and very soon you will be a beautiful young woman.”

It was as if he had only just realised it for himself and Theresa answered,

“That is why it is so important for you to be with me, Papa.”

“I wish I could, my dear,” he had answered, “but I am not the right person to sponsor a debutante as your mother will tell you and a great many other people as well!”

He spoke with a note of regret in his voice, but then his eyes brightened again as he said,

“We all have our own lives to lead and you will find that you have to lead yours. Don’t let people impose on you, but be yourself.”

“I want to do that, Papa,” Theresa replied, “but there is so much for me to learn and Mama and I are very quiet here.”

Her father looked around the drawing room and said in a voice that Theresa did not understand,

“It is too small, too restricting. I have always disliked being a big fish in a small pool. I want to be out in the open sea, doing what I want to do in my own way.”

He spoke violently.

Then, as if he knew that Theresa was looking at him with a puzzled expression in her large eyes, he said,

“Forget me, dearest child. I am no good to you and you will be better off without me.”

“Oh, no, Papa!”

He had kissed her and then driven away in a new phaeton in which he had come down from London.

His hat was at an angle and he looked so smart and at the same time so debonair that she could understand the old butler shaking his head as he watched him disappearing down the drive.

“His Lordship were always a lad!” he said as if he spoke to himself.

Theresa had gone to find her mother, but she was not in the drawing room and she guessed that she had gone to her bedroom to lock herself in and cry despairingly.

That was the truth and it was only some weeks later that her mother admitted that her father had left them forever.

“Do you mean to say, Mama, that he is never coming back?” Theresa asked. “How can he do such a thing?”

“He has gone to live in France,” her mother replied in a hard voice that seemed to be torn from her lips. “He has found somebody rich enough to look after him so that he no longer needs me and I doubt if we shall ever see him again.”

“Oh – Mama!”

Tears had come into Theresa’s eyes and while she fought for control she heard her mother say as if to herself,

“It is the women who are left behind who suffer.”

After that she had refused to mention her father again and, although Theresa hoped that he would write to her, there was never a letter for her or a present even at Christmas.

She did, however, hear snatches of information about him from various relatives who called to see them more out of curiosity, she thought, than because they wished to help her mother.

“I hear they go everywhere with the Prince Napoleon and even the Emperor himself when the Empress is not present! Can you imagine our dear Queen sanctioning such outrageous behaviour?”

A year later Theresa had just come into the drawing room as somebody was saying,

“It is true! She has left him! But he is consoling himself with one of the most flamboyant and notorious courtesans in the whole of Paris. He gives parties for her that, it is said, exceed the orgies of the Romans! Where can he possibly find the money?”