Love at the Tower Read Free

hole.
    She tried to scrabble up the sides of the deep trench, but kept on sliding.
    The trench seemed to grow deeper and deeper –
    She shouted as the gravediggers started to shovel spadefuls of earth into the hole – but they did not hear her.
    â€œHelp! Help!”
    Robina awoke with a start and grabbed hold of Nanny’s arm tightly.
    â€œWhat is it? There, you were having a bad dream.”
    Nanny stroked Robina’s hair and patted her hand.
    Robina felt sick. She had been repeatedly having the same dream ever since she had first arrived in Paris and each time, she was convinced that she was about to die – suffocated in her own mother’s grave!
    â€œI was dreaming about Mama’s funeral. It is always the same awful dream.”
    â€œYou have not seen the monument, have you? It is a beautiful angel gazing up to Heaven flanked by pillars. Your father commissioned a top architect to design it and one of the best masons in London carved out the figure. It bears your mother’s likeness – ”
    â€œI would like to see it,” murmured Robina, deep inthought.
    She had not been to her mother’s grave since she had left for France. It had still been a heap of earth when she last saw it and the first anniversary of her death was now looming.
    It was nearly ten o’clock when the carriage finally turned into the driveway of Trentham House.
    Robina’s heart began to beat faster.
    How would her father receive her?
    Would he fling his arms round her and embrace her or would he merely nod and cough in that self-conscious way that he often lapsed into on emotional occasions?
    The carriage pulled up at the front entrance and a footman came to open the door.
    Robina did not recognise him, but vaguely remembered Nanny saying that some of the old servants had left because of her father’s ill temper.
    â€œGood evening, Miss Melville,” he said, “welcome home.”
    â€œAnd you are?”
    â€œHarrington, miss.”
    â€˜It will feel so strange without Mama,’ she thought, as she began to slowly walk indoors.
    As soon as she was inside the hall, she noticed it.
    Where the large Chinese vase had once stood, there was now an enormous French clock. Robina knew it was from Paris, as the Lamonts had something rather similar in their drawing room.
    â€˜This would not be to Papa’s taste,’ she reflected, as she took off her hat and gloves. ‘It is far too ornate. Papa is much fonder of Chinese antiques.’
    â€œHello, miss. Did you enjoy a pleasant journey?”
    She spun round to see the familiar face of Newman, the butler, before her.
    She sighed with relief.
    â€œI am so pleased to see you, Newman!” she cried, “Nanny said that some of the servants had left and I would have hated it if you had been one of them.”
    Newman allowed himself a wry smile.
    â€œIt would take more than a few of your father’s ill tempers to persuade me to leave Trentham House, miss.”
    Robina felt cheered immediately.
    Perhaps things would not be so bad.
    Nanny was still here and so was Newman.
    â€œAnd my father – is he at home? I am eager to see him!”
    It was all too obvious by the look upon Newman’s face that there was something amiss. He gazed down at his highly polished shoes before answering.
    â€œI am not certain as to his whereabouts at just this precise moment, miss.”
    Robina was aghast.
    â€œSurely he knew of my return home this evening?”
    â€œOf course, miss. That is why he asked Nanny to fetch you and not one of the footmen.”
    â€œYou must know where he is, Newman. You know everyone’s movements before they even know where they are going themselves. Is he not waiting for me?”
    He sighed and gave Robina an almost pitying look.
    â€œSadly I am no longer privy to all of Sir Herbert’s engagements.”
    Robina stared at him as if she could not understand the words.
    â€˜What