“I did.”
“Then I won’t be a coward. I’ll face my mistake and my friends.”
VALERIE AND AUNT Anne stepped into the Bvlgari boutique, the cases of rings and necklaces sparkling beneath the showroom lights. Valerie recognized many of the matrons poring over the black trays of jewels offered up by the well-dressed jewelers. She’d been to dances, dinners, or cocktail parties at most of their homes during the Season. They all stopped shopping and stared at her the moment she and Aunt Anne entered.
Lady Windon, Elm’s sister, was among them. She scowled at Valerie, her vitriol enough to melt diamonds. The rest were merely curious or frowned with disapproval as they watched Valerie and Aunt Anne approach the main counter. Valerie hadn’t felt like running this much since her court presentation, but she kept walking, gaze forward, unwilling to let them cow her.
“Mr. Garrison, how kind of you to help us,” Aunt Anne said to the balding man behind the counter.
“It’s a pleasure to assist the Premier’s wife.” He said it a little louder than needed, reminding everyone who Aunt Anne was and that she wouldn’t be snubbed, and by extension neither would her niece. That was another lesson Valerie had learned over these last few months. Lineage and position did trump almost everything else. “What can I show you today?”
Aunt Anne turned to Valerie, silently giving her the lead. Valerie swallowed hard, aware that everyone was watching and that Lady Windon had abandoned her shopping in the middle of a purchase to storm out the door. Not everyone would accept Valerie, but soon it wouldn’t matter. There was a storm brewing in Europe that would sweep them all up in its furor, and little tiffs like this would pale in importance. Valerie smiled at the jewelry. “I’d like to see a collection of engravable gold charms.”
The jeweler fetched a tray of shining gold disks while everyone around them went back to browsing. There were sure to be many more scenes like this in the coming weeks, but she was ready for them. With Aunt Anne behind her, she’d endure it, and hopefully with Their Excellencies by her side.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Eunice, you came.” Valerie hurried down the corridor to meet her friend. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you or what this means to me.”
She’d been sitting on pins and needles waiting for Their Excellencies to arrive for tea in the White Drawing Room. The invitations had been sent but she hadn’t received a single reply, unless their silence was all the RSVP she was likely to get.
Eunice stood in the entrance hallway, a sailor hat perched on the back of her curled hair, her already wide blue eyes even wider with uncertainty. It slowed Valerie’s steps.
“I can’t stay. Mother will have a fit if she finds out I’m here. After those incidents with your stepmother and Lord Elmswood, she’s dead set against our friendship, but I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
“Fit as a fiddle.” Her emotions were another matter. If she’d thought spending the Season waiting for war or her past to rise up had left her twisting in anticipation and uncertainty, it was nothing compared to waiting for this tea. It was maddening, but she had no choice. There was no other way to know where she stood with her friends. “How are you?”
“As well as can be expected. Father is making plans for us to return to America. We won’t be in England much longer.”
“Then it’ll be off to university for you. How fun. You must write and tell me all about it.”
“I can’t.”
“Of course.” She didn’t need to say more. It was in the twisting of her hands in front of her. She’d defy her mother to say farewell but nothing more, it wasn’t her way. “I understand.” No matter how much it hurt.
“I’ve enjoyed these last few months, they’ve been like nothing I’ve ever done before. You and Your Excellencies were grand.” Her broad smile faded and she glanced at the door. “I wish I could stay.”
“I know.” Valerie slid a small velvet box out of her dress pocket and held it out to Eunice. “To remember us by.”
“I can’t.”
“I insist.” She pressed it into Eunice’s gloved hands, receiving a gentle squeeze of encouragement in return.
“Thank you. I hope all turns out well for you, I genuinely do.”
“It will, one way or another. Goodbye, Eunice, and good luck.”
With one last smile, Eunice let go and hurried out to the waiting car before Henry closed the black-lacquered door behind her.
Valerie wrapped her arms around her, the house chilly despite the warm July morning. This didn’t bode well for the rest of the day or what little remained of the Season.
“Don’t take it personally,” Marian said, coming up beside her, a pad and pencil with her as usual. “Ambassador Kennedy is in a right rage about war and in a panic to return to America, like a rat off a sinking ship.”
“Are we really sunk?”
“Never. Bruised, maybe, but not defeated.”
“No, we’re not.” Valerie motioned for Marian to walk with her to the Grand Staircase.
“I didn’t mean to listen, but I couldn’t help but overhear.”
“I don’t mind you eavesdropping.” It was better than Mr. Colville scowling at her. Everyone in No. 10 had heard the story. A few of the puffed-up secretaries made their disapproval known with little tut-tuts here and there but Valerie ignored them. If Lady Mosley and Lady Ravensdale could appear in society after everything they’d done, then so could she. “I hope you don’t hold what happened against me.”
“How could I, after everything you’ve done for me?”
“It wasn’t enough. I should’ve had you to tea, at the very least.”
“We both know that’s not possible.”
“It is if we say it is. Will you join me at the soda fountain at Selfridges tomorrow for lunch?”
Marian chewed the end of her pencil, then stuck it behind her ear. “I’d be honored to.”
She gave Valerie a quick hug, then hurried off down the stairs leading to the Garden Room.
No matter what happened today, Valerie would come out of this with at least one good friend.
She climbed the Grand Staircase and stepped into the quiet White Drawing Room. The lace on the round table in the center ruffled with the breeze coming in through the windows. The Spode china with the turquoise border from her grandmother’s collection was laid out beside silver forks and the impressive silver tea service and plates of sandwiches and cakes.
“Eunice not staying?” Aunt Anne asked, searching the desk.
“No.”
“Well, that’s to be expected from some.”
“Perhaps all.”
Aunt Anne turned the cushions over on the sofa. “Don’t lose faith quite yet.”
Valerie slid her aunt’s spectacles off the side table and held them out to her. “What do you know that you aren’t telling me?”
“I paid a call on Lady Astor yesterday and we had a nice long chat.” She set the spectacles on her nose, tucking the ends behind her ears. “I reminded her that we’ve all made mistakes in our youth and that we shouldn’t be punished for them our entire lives. If we were, she’d still be married to Robert Gould Shaw instead of Lord Astor and a New York society hostess instead of an MP. She couldn’t argue with that line of reasoning.” With a little wave, she slipped out of the room, leaving hope in her wake.
What she should’ve left was patience. Valerie paced the White Drawing Room, sure there’d be a furrow in the rug by the time she was finished. She was about to ring for Mr. Dobson to take the food downstairs to the secretaries when Dinah, Katherine, and Christian filed into the room. No one rushed to hug or gush about how glad they were to see each other. Instead, they stood across the table from her, silent as if at a wake. It was preferable to them not coming at all. With the tea growing cold and her so excited that they were here, she wasn’t about to let them leave, not yet, not until she’d said her piece.
“All right, Your Excellencies, I’ve been an awful fool
and I’m sorry. I hope you’ll stay, but I understand if you leave and never have anything to do with me ever again. Either way, I want you to have these to remember me and our Season by.”
She plucked up the three velvet boxes on the table and stuffed them into their gloved hands. They exchanged surprised looks, the cat still holding their tongues until they opened the boxes.
“Good heavens!” Katherine exclaimed.
They each removed the gold charms on their delicate chain to reveal Their Excellencies engraved on the front and all of their first names in fine script on the back. Beside it was a small gold fork charm to remind them of the Buckingham Palace ones they’d stolen what seemed like years ago.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me this Season. I was quite alone when I came to London, but you were so friendly when everyone else was nasty and mean. I’ll never forget what good friends you were to me, all of you. I’m sorry I bitched it up, and I know your parents and such will have a great deal to say about whether or not you’ll have anything further to do with me, but if you could forgive me, if we could carry on as we were, it’d be ever so grand.” She clutched the back of the chair in front of her, digging her fingernails into the antique wood while she waited for them to say something, anything.
They looked at one another as if they’d talked a great deal in the car, but none of them was brave enough to repeat it here. Valerie braced for more reasons why the rest of her friends had to fob her off the way Eunice had. She’d done her best. It was up to them now.
Then Dinah broke into a smile that spread across Katherine’s and Christian’s faces. “We aren’t going anywhere, Your Excellency.”
They rushed at her, throwing their arms around her in a large hug, all of them crying and laughing as the chain of Dinah’s charm snagged Valerie’s jumper and Katherine’s tangled in Christian’s hair. When all the gold was free of hat pins and buttons, the girls slipped them around their necks.
“You didn’t really think we were going to abandon you?” Dinah straightened her necklace against her pale pink blouse. “Did you?”
“I didn’t know what to think, especially with your aunt drawing the curtains on me.”
“Oh, she climbed on her high horse, but your aunt pulled her right off of it.”
“Everyone is talking about the wreck.” Christian laid the charm over the top of the bow in her front collar. “You’re more popular than when you told off Vivien.”
“Come off it, I can’t be. The matrons at Bvlgari scowled at me.”
“No one gives a fig for what they think, not with all the chaps and debs taken with you,” Katherine said. “The charms are gorgeous.”
“Only the best for you lot.” She took Dinah’s and Christian’s hands, Katherine stepping in to complete the circle. “All the times you listened to me or stood beside me. You have no idea what it’s meant to me.”
“I think we do, especially when you let us carry on about our troubles and never judged us or made us feel bad,” Dinah said. “We need each other as much to face all the ridiculousness of society as whatever is waiting for us at the end of the Season. We’ll always be there for one another, won’t we, girls?”
Valerie squeezed her and Christian’s hands. “We will.”
They’d seen her at her worst and still believed the best of her. No matter what happened, they’d be together to face it, to encourage and hold up one another while offering shoulders to cry on. It was more than she ever could’ve asked or hoped for and she’d never take it for granted or risk losing this again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
September 3, 1939
I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at Ten Downing Street. This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.”
Muffled tears from the few Garden Room Girls watching in the back of the Cabinet Room were barely audible under Uncle Neville’s somber voice. He sat at the end of the long table, a microphone in front of him, the BBC radio men and their equipment off to one side. Aunt Anne stood stoically beside Valerie, discreetly touching her eyes with her handkerchief. Valerie didn’t dare look at her for fear of bursting into tears. The horror Uncle Neville had worked so hard to spare them from had finally fallen on England. People looked to them to set the tone and they must be strong for him and the country. She glanced behind her to where Marian watched with the secretaries and ministers, as brokenhearted as Valerie.
“We have done all that any country could do to establish peace,” Uncle Neville continued, crushing disappointment undermining his dignified voice. “But the situation in which no word given by Germany’s ruler could be trusted, and no people or country could feel itself safe, had become intolerable. And now that we have resolved to finish it, I know that you will all play your part with calmness and courage.”
The light on the table in front of him went out and the room was engulfed in an onerous silence.
They were at war.
Uncle Neville rose. Heads turned to follow him as he walked through the gathered officials and ministers in distinguished defeat. No one said anything as he left, his slender body silhouetted by the light from the hallway. Mr. Colville, Sir John, and the government gentlemen studied their feet or exchanged looks laden with shame. They should go after him, support him, give him the courage to fight on and face this as he’d inspired them to do since Munich. Instead they left him to walk the hallway carrying this alone.
Valerie rushed out to follow him. “Uncle Neville?”
He turned and faced her, the sadness in his eyes making her halt. “I failed, Valerie, you and England.”
“It’s not your fault.” She threw her arms around his thin waist and held him tight. “You did everything you could.”
He raised his arm to embrace her, resting his cheek on her head. “It wasn’t enough.”
“But you tried. That’s more than most others have done.” Especially Father, her mother, and all the other disappointing people who’d never been there for her. They no longer mattered. Their selfishness and shortcomings had made her face hers and given her the strength to endure difficulties instead of crumbling beneath them, exactly as Uncle Neville would do.
He held her at arm’s length, the fatherly gaze she adored replacing the heavy weight of the world in his eyes. “Your faith means a great deal to me.”
As his and Aunt Anne’s did to her. It didn’t matter what all the rest had done. They’d helped her and forgiven her and it’d made all the difference.
“A GENTLEMAN FROM the War Office is asking for you, Miss de Vere Cole,” one of the new secretaries said as Valerie came downstairs. She was on her way to tea with Their Excellencies to celebrate Christian starting work at the Halifax bomber factory in Cricklewood next week. Dinah was training to drive mobile canteens, while Katherine had joined the Red Cross.
“Who is it?” There wasn’t anyone there in need of her. It’d been two weeks since the declaration of war, and everyone still held their breath waiting for things to begin. The “Phony War,” they were calling it, but no one expected the lull to last. There’d be fighting and destruction and hardship, and all they could do in the meantime was prepare for it.
“I don’t know.” He hurried off, another of the new staff members who’d flooded into Downing Street over the last week. There were so many, it was difficult to learn their names.
Valerie stepped into the entrance hall, coming up short at the sight of Elm. “What are you doing here?”
She hadn’t seen him or Richard since the night of the accident. It’d seemed best to leave all that nasty business behind her, no matter how much she missed their charm and wit.
“I’m working at the War Office and had some
letters to deliver. I wonder if you’d walk out with me for a moment.” He turned his hat in his hands, his right arm hindered by a sling.
“I’d like that.”
They stepped outside, blinking at the bright September sunshine as they strolled along the pavement away from Whitehall where the usual crowd gathered. It wasn’t policemen holding them back but soldiers in their drab uniforms. Valerie instructed Mr. May to wait for her. She’d only be a few minutes before she needed him to drive her to Selfridges. Despite weekly lessons with the chauffer, she still wasn’t confident enough to manage the hectic London streets alone.
“What are you doing at the War Office?”
“Intelligence work. I had to resign my commission in the Coldstream Guards. I’m not likely to see active service with this injury.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, it’s my fault. I should’ve known better that night.” He played with the fraying edge of the sling. “I miss my regiment and regret having to give it up, but I enjoy the work at the War Office and the chance to do my part. They say I could have quite a career there, a future. It’s more than I thought I’d have before.” He stopped and faced her. “I’m sorry for what happened, all of it. My family has expectations for me. Mother had spoken to Lady Ravensdale before the party, something about you and France. She’d told me before I left for Cliveden that I wasn’t to see you again. I was mad at her and the world. I shouldn’t have caught you up in it, but dealt with it like a man. If things had been different . . .”
“But they weren’t.” It stung that he hadn’t been willing to fight for her, but in the end it was for the best. Dinah had said he was too involved with himself to care about anyone else, but he’d cared enough for her to not lead her on when he’d known there couldn’t be anything between them. Even if his parents hadn’t objected, the Season was one of the few things they’d had in common. It wasn’t a strong enough bond to have weathered the fury of his parents or the weight of his lineage. She’d enjoyed his company, but it was the title, rank, and attention that had dazzled her the most. Not the stuff of a solid and enduring union.
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