“That would be most pleasant. I should like you to meet the Solanges.”
She lifted her cup to her lips and, as she did so, she could feel her heart beating wildly. Sir Peter was smiling broadly.
‘It would certainly serve Simon right if a handsome man came calling on me,’ she thought, as she set down her cup.
“Thank you,” replied Sir Peter. Now, I have taken up enough of your valuable time – you will want to make ready for your departure, no doubt.”
“It was a pleasure,” murmured Marina, casting her eyes downwards modestly.
She rang for Frome to show Sir Peter out and felt sorry that he could not stay longer. She thought that there was much for them to talk about and she was certain that he was a fascinating man with many interesting stories to tell.
In a matter of moments Frome was in the room. Marina did not want these last precious few seconds to end, but she knew she had to let Sir Peter go.
“Thank you for being so hospitable and I do hope I will see you again soon in Paris,” he said, holding out his hand to her.
Marina took the well-manicured hand and noticed that it was large and square. She liked such hands as they showed a man of character and strength. She shook it briefly and then withdrew hers. It still felt warm from being in contact with his.
“Goodbye,” she said quietly as she tried to avoid his eyes.
“I hope it will be au revoir,” he added smiling.
Taking his hat and cane from Frome, Sir Peter quickly left the room. It was as if his presence lingered, however,
and Marina tarried in the room drinking it in.
Her reveries were eventually interrupted by Ellen, who came to look for her.
“Miss, your father has requested that you take luncheon with him and Lady Alice before we leave.”
“But do we have enough time?” asked Marina, puzzled at this latest turn of events.
“Frome says that we have had word that the boat train has been delayed for three hours. A messenger came from the ticket office while you were with Sir Peter.”
“In that case, I do not appear to have a choice, do I, Ellen?”
“I am afraid not, miss.”
Marina sighed. She wished fervently that the train had not been delayed and she also wished she had known before Sir Peter left.
‘Luncheon with Lady Alice,’ she thought. ‘I would rather be back on that ferry being seasick!’
She stayed in the library until Frome rang the gong for luncheon.
Smoothing down her dress, she walked to the dining room with a purposeful air. She would not be unpleasant to Lady Alice, but neither was she going to be her best friend.
The dining room door was open when Marina approached it and inside she could see the figure of her father standing over the table.
As she walked in, she noticed that Lady Alice was already seated and that her father was fussing over her. Seeing Marina enter, he laid a hand on Lady Alice’s shoulder as if to show who was the most important person in the room.
“Marina, you will remember Lady Alice,” he said, clearly a little uncomfortable.
“Yes, how do you do?” asked Marina, with a politeness that was quite icy.
“I am so glad to see you and sorry that you are not staying longer,” replied Lady Alice with a smile.
‘The nerve of the woman,’ thought Marina, as she went to take a seat at the table. ‘She is the one who is responsible for my sudden departure and now, she is sorry I am not staying!’
All of a sudden, Marina’s appetite vanished. She found it almost impossible to sit and eat in the same room as the woman who was the reason for her banishment.
“You are not eating, Marina?” enquired her father. “I had a large breakfast in my room, thank you.”
“But you cannot travel on an empty stomach,” put in Lady Alice.
“I travel better when I have not recently eaten,”
responded Marina stiffly.
There was a long silence while Frome removed the plates.
“I do hope that you will enjoy Paris,” began Lady Alice.
Marina shot her frozen look. She had no desire to converse with the woman and heartily wished that she would get on with eating her meal and not attempt to engage her in conversation.
“I am very fond of it myself,” Lady Alice continued. “Marina has made a great many friends there.”
Her father took up the conversation ignoring the fact that there was clearly an atmosphere in the dining room.
“She is very fortunate. I would much prefer to stay with friends than in some odd hotel. I find that I can never sleep in a strange bed,” replied Lady Alice, laughing a little too readily.
‘No, but you sleep soundly enough in my house,’
thought Marina murderously.
The meal continued in much the same vein. Lady Alice tried her hardest to engage Marina in conversation, but she refused to be drawn and sat there, her hands by her side, not eating a morsel.
After the pudding had been taken away, Marina asked for permission to be excused.
Her father coughed nervously and nodded his assent. To her horror, Lady Alice rose as she went to leave the room and attempted to embrace her. Marina stood as stiff as a board, while the woman kissed her cheek.
‘To think that Papa has trampled over Mama’s memory for that old crone,’ fumed Marina as she left the room.
She was heartbroken that her father had not seen fit to bid her farewell or to take the opportunity to reassure her that he still loved her.
‘It is quite clear that he no longer wants me, so I am really best off going back to France. At least the Solanges like to have me around. Madame Solange was inconsolable when I left.’
Outside in the hall, Ellen was waiting for her. She had just been to the kitchen to pick up a picnic basket.
“Best be prepared for the journey, miss. We do not want to starve. Frome said that you did not touch a crumb at luncheon.”
“I did not care for the company I was forced to keep,” stated Marina. “Now, Ellen, we must get ready to leave. I would rather loiter around Victoria station than stay here a moment longer!”
As the carriage finally pulled away from the house, Marina could not help but take a long look back at its elegant windows and tall columns.
“I wonder if this will be the last time I ever see it?” she said, quietly.
“Goodness, no,” exclaimed Ellen, “do not think like that. Once your Papa has come to his senses, he will send for you – you wait and see.”
Marina gave her a kindly look.
“That is what you said the last time he sent us away, Ellen. I wonder what Mama would say if she could see the changes that Lady Alice has wrought.”
“We did not even have time to visit your Mama’s grave,” added Ellen.
“It is too far to go to the cemetery, Ellen,” replied Marina, who was still gazing out of the window as they rolled down Oxford Street. “I have left instructions with Frome to have flowers sent once a fortnight. Papa will have to foot the bill.”
The two women fell silent. Ellen fussed with her bag while Marina watched London whiz by outside.
‘It is no use being regretful,’ she told herself. ‘My life here is over for the time being. It is to France that I must look for my happiness.’
Even so, she could not prevent tears from falling as the carriage sped past Buckingham Palace. Snapping down the carriage blind, she shut the outside world away from her view.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Marina did not feel like chatting with Ellen on the journey to Dover.
Sir Peter’s unexpected visit to Harley Street that morning had unnerved her and she thought about him as they sped along the bumpy road to the port.
‘He is even more handsome than I first thought,’ mused Marina, ‘and he is also a very thoughtful man. I feel as if I could trust him with my life.’
The very notion quite shocked her as, if she was honest with herself, she had ne
ver felt that degree of safety with either Albert or Simon.
‘There are precious few people I could really trust. Ellen, of course, and Henrietta. Even Papa betrayed me in the end by choosing that awful Lady Alice over me. I have heard men laugh at others who come under the influence of their wives, but I had never imagined Papa would bend to the will of a woman!’
“It looks like we’re in for some rain, miss.”
Ellen was peering out of the carriage window up at the darkening skies overhead.
“I do hope not, Ellen,” murmured Marina, pulling her thin coat around her shoulders.
But the closer to Dover they drove, the more the skies turned black and full of angry-looking clouds. By the time the carriage was pulling into the harbour, the wind had begun to blow and the rain was lashing down. The poor coachman was drenched and the horses were steaming.
“Goodness. I wonder if the ferry will be sailing.” said Ellen, making ready to dash to the ticket office. “I will run and find out.”
Marina sat huddled in the back of the carriage while Ellen braved the elements. Ten minutes later she returned with a grim look on her face.
“There are to be no sailings until this storm has blown over,” she announced. “The clerk said that it was likely that nothing would leave until the morning.”
“Stranded in Dover, yet again,” sighed Marina. “Let us proceed to that hotel that we stayed in last time. We had better hurry as I am certain that everyone else who is due to sail will have the same idea.”
When they arrived, there was a queue at the reception desk. Fortunately, as Marina had a good deal of money at her disposal, they were able to secure one of the more expensive suites.
“I wonder if the coachman will be staying overnight in Dover or braving it back to London?” said Ellen, as they followed the porter up to their suite.
“I gave him two pounds and told him to find an inn with a stable. Those poor horses have had enough of this weather.”
“But they’re only horses, miss, that’s what they are meant to do.”
“I am sorry, Ellen, but I would not take a horse of mine all the way back to London in this weather. I do not hold with this idea that horses are mere beasts – even though one was responsible for the death of Mama, I still love them.”
“I am surprised to hear you say so, miss. If a horse had killed my Mama, I would not be feeling well disposed towards the whole nation of horses!”
“Then that is where you and I differ, Ellen. It was not the horse’s fault it was unruly. It had bad masters, it is as simple as that. Someone should have prevented that horse from even leaving the stables.”
The pair fell silent as the porter began to unload their luggage into the suite. It was pleasant enough and Marina felt certain that they would be comfortable.
She suddenly felt the need to write to Sir Peter. But as she went to sit down at the desk, she immediately felt foolish.
‘Why would I want to send a letter to a man I hardly know and what would I say in it?’ she admonished herself.
‘Marina, you are being a perfect fool. What has possessed me?’
*
The storm blew fiercely all night and, when Ellen came to open the curtains the next morning, it was still raging outside.
“Heavens. I would not be at all surprised if we will not be sailing this morning,” exclaimed Ellen. “I will go down to the port and find out when the next sailing might be.”
“Thank you, Ellen.”
Marina had her breakfast brought to the room, ate it in silence and then decided that she would like a change of scenery. Ellen had been gone for over an hour and she was becoming worried.
Downstairs in the hotel lounge, the conversation was very much on the state of the weather. Marina sat on her own and eavesdropped on others as they discussed the likelihood of there being any sailings that day at all.
At last, Ellen came into the lounge, out of breath and looking grim-faced.
“Ah, miss, I thought you might be in here. I am afraid I have bad news – there will be no ferries out of the port until this evening at the earliest.”
“Oh, dear. I had hoped we would be in Paris for dinner,” sighed Marina, “and now it appears unlikely. Perhaps I should let the Solanges know that we will be arriving tomorrow.”
“But miss, they do not know we are even on our way. As far as they are concerned, you were going home for good.”
“Then it is essential that I inform them of our plans. Go up to the suite, Ellen, and I will send a telegram. I am not looking forward to a long day spent in the hotel.”
Ellen nodded and left the lounge. Marina got up from her chair and made her way to the concierge’s desk.
“Good morning, miss. Can I be of service to you?”
“I would like to send a telegram to Paris, please.”
He took out a sheet of paper and handed it to Marina. Seating herself at a small desk near the wall, Marina quickly wrote,
“Arriving back in Paris tomorrow, Wednesday. Will be staying indefinitely due to unforeseen circumstances. Best wishes, Marina Fullerton.”
‘There, that should be sufficient,’ she said to herself. Taking it back to the concierge, she thanked him and then turned to go back upstairs. Emerging into the corridor,
she bumped straight into a very flustered Ellen. “Miss! Miss. We have been robbed!”
“I beg your pardon?” said Marina, not quite understanding what she was telling her.
“The room has been broken into while we were out and it looks as if the thieves have taken something out of your trunk.”
“Oh, no! My jewels! I did not put them in the safe last night as we were so tired.”
Marina ran to the room and sure enough, she could not find her bag of jewellery anywhere.
“Are you certain that you packed them in the trunk?”
she asked Ellen, frantically.
“Yes, miss. I hid the bag in with your gloves.”
Marina looked aghast at the trunk. The drawer containing her gloves was pulled out and had clearly been rifled through.
“Then they are gone,” said Marina, in a quiet voice. Sinking down onto an armchair, she felt as if the whole world was against her.
“It is all my fault, miss,” wept Ellen, tears running down her ruddy face. “I did not lock the door of the suite when I left.”
“No, Ellen, it is my fault as I was the last person to be in the room,” replied Marina. “I could not remember seeing you take the key and I did not want to lock you out. You must go downstairs and alert the manager at once.”
Ellen bobbed a curtsy and ran out of the room dabbing at her eyes.
Marina felt sick. Although she did not own a great many jewels, she had now lost the pearl pendant that her grandmother had given her.
It was not long before the manager arrived, apologising profusely.
“Of course, I have called the Police,” he informed her. “I am afraid that will not bring my jewels back,”
sighed Marina, “and in any case, we will be leaving as soon as the storm abates and will not be returning to England for some time.”
“But you will want to give them details, surely?”
“I have lost so much of late, I confess that the loss of a few baubles is trifling in comparison. If the Police arrive before we leave for our ferry, then I will, naturally, co- operate, but I do not intend to linger in Dover on the off- chance of recovering my jewellery.”
The manager bowed and left the room. Ellen went over to her Mistress and patted her arm.
“You are upset, miss?”
“Yes, Ellen, but we must put this unfortunate incident behind us. Did you find out at what time the boat leaves?”
“Half-past five, miss.”
Marina got up and strode over to the window to look at the weather outside. Deep inside, however, her heart was full of sadness.
*
The weather cleared up that afternoon and the ferry did indeed sail at the ap
pointed time. Marina went up on deck to watch the white cliffs of Dover as they vanished over the horizon.
‘Goodbye, England,’ she whispered, as the sun sank in the sky. ‘I wonder when I will return.’
The crossing was relatively calm and swift, and, before she knew it, they were boarding the sleeper train to Paris.
Marina slept fitfully on the long journey. She had many disturbing dreams about their luggage being stolen and her cabin was being broken into.
As a result she was awake when the Steward brought her coffee in the morning.
“I do hope that the Solanges received my telegram,”
she said to Ellen, as they reached the station.
“Of course, they will have,” assured Ellen, “but it is very early and so we must not expect them to be waiting for us.”
“You are right. Perhaps we should wait awhile before we arrive at the house. None of them likes to rise at the crack of dawn.”
She smiled to herself as she remembered how, at the Solange’s house, she was always the first one down to the dining room.
‘Simon was usually the first one to join me,’ she thought, her face softening with the memory. ‘I wonder if he will be here to meet us.’
But the thought made her feel slightly uneasy. She did not wish to reopen old wounds and as he had been so distant the last time they had seen each other, she rather hoped that he would not make the effort.
‘Eight o’clock,’ she sighed, as a nearby Church bell struck the hour.
Walking along the platform, Marina’s heart was beating so fast that it made it difficult for her to catch her breath.
Would Simon be waiting for her, having had a change of heart?
Perhaps Monsieur and Madame Solange, overjoyed at the prospect of her return, had made the effort?
Or would she find that Roux, the surly coachman, would be waiting for them, furious that he had been called into service so early in the day?
But Marina and Ellen left the platform and found themselves once more on the station concourse with no reception of any nature waiting for them.
“Do you think that the Solanges will come for us?”
asked Ellen anxiously.
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