Wenda smiled at him.
“You can start right away. You will find my tools inside the toolshed, but be careful to put them back every evening and whatever you do, don’t break them.”
“I’ll take real care of ’em, I promise you that.”
Donson went off joyfully in a way that she knew had always annoyed Mr. Hatton as it told the world that he was pleased with life.
He had the type of temper which was very much up or down and she could imagine all too clearly what he must have felt when Mr. Hatton dismissed him.
She had often thought he was difficult, but he got more out of the estate than anyone else could. They had so few men and so many acres requiring attention.
Wenda went into the house and straight upstairs to her bedroom.
She opened the drawer where she kept her mother’s jewellery.
She seldom if ever had a chance to wear it, but she often looked at it and fondled it as it made her remember how beautiful her mother had looked when she went out to dinner with her father or attended a local Hunt Ball.
She could quite understand when she was told how her mother had been acknowledged as one of the most beautiful women in Society.
As soon as her father had seen her, he had fallen head over heels in love with her.
The daughter of the Duke of Netherton, she had been expected to make a distinguished marriage and then to everyone’s great surprise she had married Lord Creswell with his fine family tree but very little money.
There was little doubt that because he was just so handsome and so charming nothing mattered to either of them except to be together.
As the years passed they became poorer and poorer, but it never troubled them.
They laughed whenever things went right and when things went wrong and they were blissfully happy not only with themselves but with their two children.
There was little doubt that Robbie was as good-looking and as intelligent as his father and Wenda was an adorable beautiful baby looking like a small round angel.
She grew up as the years passed to look more and more like her mother.
Unfortunately by the time Wenda should have burst upon London Society, her father was dead and her mother died very shortly afterwards.
Wenda had always believed that it was impossible for them to be apart and she was sure that when they were dead they would find each other again.
Her father had caught a virulent disease at the time when he was inspecting foreign ships entering the Port of London from the East at the request of the Government.
There had been stories of drugs smuggled ashore for large sums of money as well as other articles banned by Parliament and it was in China Town in the East End of London that Lord Creswell had inspected a ship from China and discovered a large amount of drugs and untested foods.
To prove to himself they were right in arresting the Captain of the ship he had tasted the foods himself and in doing so contracted an Eastern disease for which there was no cure.
He died in a few days, leaving his wife prostrate with grief.
Five months later Wenda had found her mother dead in bed when she called her at eight in the morning. She thought at first that she was sleeping as she looked so happy with a smile on her beautiful lips.
And it seemed impossible that she would not open her large eyes and laugh as she always had.
It was fortunate that Robbie was at home rather than in London as he so often was since leaving Oxford and he had taken over everything including the running of the estate and Creswell Court.
Although Wenda was six years younger than him, she managed to help him in many ways that no one else would have been able to do.
It was together they discovered how many debts there were.
Their father had happily enjoyed life with the wife he loved and he had actually spent as little time as possible at Windsor Castle at the beck and call of the Queen.
Her Majesty had sent her deepest condolences and was obviously upset at the news of their father’s death, but that did not help them to pay his huge debts.
It was only by selling everything that was saleable with the exception of the family jewels that now belonged to Wenda, that Robbie managed to put the house and the estate more or less in order.
He had been here, there and everywhere – from the time he rose in the morning until nightfall.
It was only in the last year when he had gone to London that Wenda realised how much depended on him.
Now missing him desperately she tried to make the house look as beautiful as it had always been and to be a happy place for him when he did come home.
‘If only we had a little more money,’ she sighed as she looked in the drawer at her mother’s jewellery.
The collection consisted of gifts at different times from the husband who loved her.
There was a brooch her mother had received from her parents as a wedding present and because there was no sentiment attached to it, Wenda was now prepared to sell it rather than the beautiful pieces her father had given her mother as a sign of his love on her birthdays.
Wenda thought that as the diamonds in the brooch were fairly large and a good colour, she should therefore obtain a good price for it.
In which case she could not only pay Donson’s wages, but would perhaps be able to afford someone extra in the house.
It was impossible for Banks, the old butler, who had been with the family for over thirty years and his wife who was the cook to manage the house as well.
So Wenda employed two women who came in from the village and they cleaned the part of the house Wenda and Robbie used.
But there were a great number of rooms which were closed and remained untended, unless Wenda herself saw to them and as she could not bear things not to be exactly as her mother had wanted them, she spent a great deal of time brushing, dusting and washing.
And this included the large number of pictures that were really valuable and the silver which filled the pantry safe.
Just a few items which they used when Robbie was at home were kept shining by Banks, while all the George III collection stayed at the back of the safe covered with green baize to protect it from tarnish.
‘I will go to St. Albans tomorrow,’ thought Wenda, taking the diamond brooch from the drawer, ‘and see what the jeweller there will offer me.’
Then she thought it was a silly thing to do – surely it would fetch more in London.
Therefore she should wait until Robbie came home and seek his advice and in the meantime she would have to overdraw a bit more from the bank to pay Donson’s wages.
Slowly she put the diamond brooch back into its case and then as she looked at the other cases, she could not help wondering how soon they too would have to go.
‘Surely there must be something else to sell,’ she told herself.
But she knew it was a stupid remark.
Her father had sold everything he said was saleable when they began to be hard-up.
A list of everything that was entailed lay on the desk in the library and Wenda knew her father had sat up late night after night going through it to see if something saleable had been overlooked.
Three Trustees had been appointed to inspect the house at various intervals and they would, she was quite certain, not miss one object on the long list.
She closed the drawer of the dressing table.
The best thing she could do would be to write to Robbie to tell him he must come home as soon as possible.
She had something special to ask of him, but she thought he would not be too pleased at being called back.
Yet she knew it would be a mistake to make their overdraft at the bank any bigger than it was already – the Bank Manager had in fact been very kind in allowing them to overdraw as much as they had.
“I well know the difficulties you are up against, my Lord,” he said the last time Robbie saw him. “And I will do my best to help you, but you know as well as I do it is a great mistake to
run up large debts you cannot repay. It is something your father always tried not to do.”
Robbie knew this was true, though he had not been very successful, but then his father had had things to sell.
He had also been lucky for several successive years in having excellent harvests and these had paid for all the expenditure on the estate.
Last year’s harvest however had been a bad one and although there were hopes that this year’s would be better, they were considerably short of labourers on the estate.
‘I must get in touch with Robbie,’ Wenda thought as she went down the stairs.
Then to her surprise she heard the sound of wheels and horses moving in the courtyard and she wondered who it could possibly be so early in the morning.
If they were neighbours coming to call, they usually came at teatime as was correct and she was not expecting anyone wanting to see her until after breakfast.
As she heard the carriage draw up outside the front door, she then hurried downstairs as Banks would be in the kitchen and not dressed correctly to receive a visitor.
Then before she could reach the door it opened and as she descended the last of the stairs, she gave a cry of astonishment and delight.
“Robbie! Robbie! I was just thinking of you.”
Her brother came into the hall and taking off his hat tossed it down on a chair.
“Why have you come home so early? And how is it possible you are here just when I need you?”
The words seemed to tumble out of Wenda’s lips.
Her brother kissed her as he said calmly,
“One thing at a time. I will tell you what it is all about, but first I am hoping there is breakfast for me.”
“Of course there is, Robbie. I will go and tell Mrs. Banks you have arrived and she will be thrilled to see you, as naturally I am.”
Her brother did not answer her and she noticed him looking up in what she thought was a strange manner at the pictures in the hall.
Then she hurried along the passage to the kitchen to find Mrs. Banks cooking her breakfast and Banks in his shirtsleeves laying the tray to carry into the breakfast room.
“Who do you think has arrived?” Wenda asked as she opened the door. “His Lordship!”
“His Lordship!” Banks exclaimed. “At this hour!”
“Yes, and I was just thinking how much I wanted to see him. But he is here and needless to say, Mrs. Banks, he is hungry.”
“If he’s come all that way from London this early, then the poor young gentleman’ll be nothin’ else, but he’ll have to wait a moment while I cooks some more eggs and bacon for him or you can start him off, Miss Wenda, with what I’ve cooked for you.”
“That is a good idea. Bring it in, Banks, as soon as it is ready and I will wait for the second serving if I can get to it before Robbie eats that too!”
She laughed and the servants who loved them both were laughing with her.
She went back into the breakfast room and found Robbie, to her surprise, holding a silver dish in his hand. It was always filled with fruit when in season, but otherwise remained as an ornament on the sideboard.
“It’s so wonderful to see you,” sighed Wenda. “It really was strange that I was just praying that I could be in touch with you and tell you I needed your help.”
“And I want yours, Wenda, but I was brought up to say ‘ladies first’, so you tell me what your trouble is.”
“As you can guess, it’s to do with money.”
Robbie groaned almost theatrically,
“How could I think it could be anything else?”
“I will tell you what has happened, Robbie.”
She sat down putting her elbowss on the table and resting her chin on her hands.
“You may be angry with me,” she began, “but I am sure what I did was right.”
She told him as quickly as she could, so as not to bore him, how she had met Donson when she was coming back from the stables and how he had told her that Hatton had sacked him.
Robbie did not speak so she continued that it would be impossible for the two boys to find another cottage for their disabled mother.
Wenda was breathless as she finished and waited apprehensively for Robbie to reply.
“Of course you were right to keep him, Wenda.”
She gave a little cry.
“Oh, Robbie, I was hoping you would say that. But I was so worried you would be cross with me.”
“How could I say anything else? Papa would have turned in his grave if we had turned out Mrs. Donson with nowhere to go except the workhouse. I am told conditions are harsh there and the inmates are fed abominably.”
“I heard that too,” said Wenda. “Papa did not make a fuss about it in case they asked him for more money than he had given them already.
There was silence and after a moment she added,
“You were unable to give them anything yourself last year, so I doubt if you complained they would listen.”
“We are not going to send anyone to the workhouse if I can help it. At the same time I must have some money, Wenda, and at once.”
Wenda gave another cry.
“Oh, Robbie, how can you ask for money like that? Unless it’s a very small sum. I will pay Donson myself when I sell this brooch.”
“What brooch, Wenda?”
“It is a brooch of Mama’s and I have been looking at it upstairs. I don’t want to sell any of Mama’s jewellery. It is absolutely all, as you know, that I possess. But if I am to pay Donson, I want you to sell the brooch for as much as you possibly can.”
She saw he was listening and added quickly,
“Of course what we get for it will have to be kept for his wages week after week.
“I have another idea,” Robbie answered.
“I have not even asked you why you have arrived so early and unexpectedly. What has happened in London? You are not in trouble, Robbie?”
“No, nothing like that – very much the opposite, but what I have to tell you may be a bit of a shock.”
Wenda looked at him somewhat uneasily.
“I think I told you that I was so thrilled when a little while ago the Prince of Wales invited me to Marlborough House and I have been there a number of times since.”
“Oh, Robbie, how exciting for you! I am longing to hear what Marlborough House is like inside.”
“It is very large, very comfortable and very rich!”
Wenda’s eyes were shining as he answered.
She worried about him when he was in London and because he was so good-looking he might be taken up by the wrong set that her parents had so disapproved of.
Living quietly in the country she had nevertheless heard about the strange behaviour of some of the younger members of Society which would have surely shocked and disgusted her father and mother.
And now with her elbows still on the table and her small pointed chin resting on her hands, she asked eagerly,
“Tell me, tell me all about it, Robbie, and of course about the Prince of Wales.”
“That is just what I am going to do. I expect you know, as I do, what a miserable time he has because he is not permitted by Queen Victoria to take any part in the affairs of the country.”
“Yes, Papa used to talk about that and it seems so extraordinary that now he is so much older she still will not let him help her.”
Looking back Wenda recalled that her father had often been voluble on how the Prince of Wales had been educated and brought up in the wrong way.
Whenever he was summoned to Windsor Castle, he nearly always returned with some story about the Prince and inevitably it concerned the worry he was to his mother.
What had happened was that Queen Victoria and Prince Albert had decided their son should be an absolute model of Victorian morality and were determined that his education should be different from the way in which their predecessors had been brought up.
The result of this was that the Prince of Wales was guarded by Tutors,
lectured by Professors and subjected to long sermons from Bishops.
At Cambridge he was scrutinised, watched over, and cut off from all the other undergraduates, in case they might pollute him into behaving as they did.
Even when he joined the Grenadier Guards, he was not allowed to undertake the duties of an ordinary Officer or mix with his comrades and the other Officers were sorry for him constantly under such close supervision.
One of the young actresses who was taken up by the Grenadiers was a pretty girl called Nelly Clinton and they smuggled her past the General supervising the Prince and into his quarters.
He found her waiting for him as a birthday present when he went to bed!
The future King of England quickly learnt the facts of life and his brother Officers believed they were really doing him a favour. They had no idea of the calamity they were bringing down on his head.
Unfortunately, like many of her successors, Nelly Clinton was only too well aware of the honour conferred on her and as invariably happens in such circumstances, she talked and boasted proudly of her conquest and it was only a question of time before what had happened found its way back to Windsor Castle.
Lord Torrington, a Gentleman-in-Waiting, who was known as a gossip, thought it his duty to inform Prince Albert that his son had been sleeping with an actress and from that moment the Prince’s life had become what any other young man would have called ‘a complete hell’.
The Prince was made to apologise over and over again to his father and write countless letters of penitence to his mother.
Eventually they had both forgiven him, but Prince Albert had not been well for some time.
After seeing his son he complained of headaches and catarrh and he could not sleep because he had pains in his body.
On the 2nd December 1861 he collapsed and twelve days later died. The cause of his death was typhoid.
But the Queen was convinced that if it had not been for the terrible behaviour of her son, her beloved Albert would not have passed away.
She had absorbed a very rigid idea of morality from her German husband and to her therefore the Prince’s small escapade with the pretty actress was not a ‘youthful error’.
He had fallen by the wayside and it confirmed her worst fears for the future of the British Monarchy.
Secret Love Page 2
