“I entirely understand, Miss Drummond.” The principal’s eyes are full of sympathy.
“Did you… did you know about him? About his vile reputation? About—”
“We did, Miss Drummond. We also knew you weren’t involved in any way whatsoever. We can assume you’ve risen to every challenge.”
“Not without sweat and tears. There were times when I didn’t know what to do next, when I made the wrong decision, when I put my trust in someone who didn’t deserve it.”
“But that’s in the past, Miss Drummond. It’s too easy to dwell on what’s happened, to ask, ‘What if I’d done things differently?’ You can’t change anything that’s happened. All you can do now is move on.”
The principal pauses.
“So how do you wish to continue with your life? What are your plans for your future?”
“I’d like to finish what I started… to go back to my books, take those exams again. My academic energies are burning bright… I’d like to return to Somerville.”
The principal clasps her hands. “I’d so hoped you’d tell me that, Miss Drummond! Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. If I don’t, I’ll always regret the missed opportunity. My Woodstock tea-room makes enough money to cover my College fees. My best friend’s now running it with me. It gives me time to study, get back to my books. I’ve got plans to use the tea-room as a showcase for local painters. And maybe to travel while I have a chance. I feel I could drive anywhere, see new places, breathe fresh air, meet new people. Take on new challenges.”
Miss Darbishire stands up. She moves towards the window to look out at the College gardens. Then she turns to look at Eleanor: a long, cool, appraising stare. “I’ll give you this, Miss Drummond. You have the courage and determination of someone older than your years.”
“Thank you.”
“And your mother? Will she let you make your choice?”
“My mother has married again. She and my stepfather are still on their honeymoon. Once they’re home, they’ll hardly notice my absence. I’m no longer my mother’s chief protector, for which relief much thanks.”
“You realise – and I must warn you – you may find it hard, returning to your studies after this extraordinary intermission.”
“It can’t possibly be as difficult as the year I’ve just had!”
“Perhaps not. But the world is changing around us with disconcerting speed. Because I’m a Wordsworth scholar, and I look after the welfare of Oxford students, people often assume I live in an ivory tower, that I know nothing about affairs outside my little life.
“That’s not true. I keep in close touch with friends in many different parts of the world. One of them spent Christmas with me. She’s just returned to her diplomatic work in Berlin.” Miss Darbishire pushes impatiently at her hair. “Her news from Germany is bleak. She thinks – and many agree – there’s going to be a Second World War. It’ll be dark and dangerous, far worse than the Great War. Its consequences for our country may be dire.”
“Then we must fight for its survival. My father was a pacifist. I understood his beliefs, but if push comes to shove I’d be willing to do anything for England.”
“Your studies might be interrupted by the war, Miss Drummond. Would that make a difference?”
“Not in the least.” Eleanor shrugs. “The past year has taught me you can’t predict the problems you might have to face. You can only deal with them on a daily basis as best you can.”
“By putting your shoulder to the wheel.”
“Exactly.” Eleanor realises she and Miss Darbishire are having a real conversation. They’ve forgotten they’re teacher and student. Instead, they’re two women talking together. And they have the experience to know what they’re talking about.
“What this country will need,” Miss Darbishire says, “are young women who can carry their weight alongside our men. Who can be clever, resilient, honest and strong.”
“I can be all those. Let me win back my place at Somerville and I’ll show you how.”
“I’m very inclined to.” Miss Darbishire’s eyes light up with her smile. “Are you ready, Miss Drummond? The long hours of study, those examinations, the competition, the new friends – and certainly new enemies – the energy and commitment you’ll need… Are you ready for all that and for a great deal more?”
“Yes,” Eleanor says.
She stands to shake the cool, steady hand of the Principal of Somerville College.
“Thank you, Miss Darbishire. Now, I’m ready for anything.”
Acknowledgements
I should like to thank Jennie Rawlings for her stunning jacket design; Darren Millward and Paul Downes for all their help; Captain Philip Moran for allowing me to write about his cottage in St Ives, Cornwall, as The Hideaway, and for reading an early draft; the principal, Dr Alice Prochaska, and the librarian and archivist, Dr Anne Manuel, at Somerville College, Oxford, for their hospitality and enthusiasm; Mark Ealey, Head Porter at Somerville College, for allowing Hermione to park and so much else besides; Hilary Johnson, close friend and editorial advisor; Susan Davis for an eye-opening editorial report; Sarah Quigley in Berlin for copy editing and proof reading; the magnificent Rachel Phipps at the Woodstock Bookshop, together with Merle and Janie, for always being there; Rupert Grey for his legal wisdom; Len Kehoe for his calm ways with my computer; my drivers, Nickie and Anton Rogan; and all my great friends in Woodstock and at the Bodleian Library in Oxford for their life-enhancing encouragement and support.
And of course I should like to thank the one and only John Forster, Archivist at Blenheim Palace, for having lunch with me more than seven years ago to discuss my ideas for The Choice, for allowing me to see the extraordinary visitors’ book signed by Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson in Blenheim Palace that history-making weekend in 1936, for driving me around Blenheim’s gardens, and for sharing with me his wealth of knowledge and his unique sense of history.
A few weeks ago, Jeremy Thompson, Managing Director of The Book Guild, told me he liked The Choice and offered me a partnership publishing contract. I owe him and his team a debt of gratitude so enormous that words fail me.
Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.
Valerie Mendes
31 October 2016
Woodstock
www.valeriemendes.com
The Choice Page 38