“We have to vow to never allow anything to interfere with our friendship,” Edwina reiterated.
“Nothing will ever interfere with our friendship,” I stated unequivocally.
“Isn’t it amazing to think that the Prince is now the King?” Edwina mused, changing the topic. I knew that she was trying to search for something less anxiety-ridden.
“Yes. You know, I worry for him. He doesn’t appear to be happy. I’m not certain he wants all of the responsibility that goes with being the monarch. Have you heard any more rumors of L’Affaire Mrs. Simpson?”
“Oh, my Gosh, yes. Paris is fairly buzzing with that topic. I’m amazed at how ill-informed Londoners seem to be.”
“I believe you know more about it than we in England do. It’s because Fleet Street is keeping a lid on the whole affair.” The English newspapers had been maintaining a virtual blackout on news of the new King’s relationship with Wallis Simpson, the twice married American whom everyone assumed he was having an affair with. I suspected that was why he seemed so blue. “What of her husband?” I asked.
“The most recent jest I’ve heard is that ‘Ernest Simpson is only too happy to lay down his wife for England’.”
“Edwina! How dreadful! Can he really be such a ninny? I can’t imagine.”
It takes all sorts, I suppose. Apparently, in the beginning, Mr. Simpson was included in the house-party weekends and nightclub gaiety, but recently he isn’t even seen very frequently. She appears with the Prince... sorry... the King, alone.”
“Well, certainly, nothing can come of it” I daresay. He surely could never marry her, even if she were to divorce. It would never be allowed.”
“Right you are there,” Edwina responded. “It’s a bit sad, actually. I mean, if he truly loves her.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.” There was a woeful tone to my response.
“Oh Sophia, how stupid of me! I am dreadfully sorry to be so insensitive. What was I thinking?”
“It’s all right, Edwina. You cannot go through your life watching everything you say, for fear you’ll wound me. Please understand that I made the decision not to tell Spence about the baby, and not to marry him. I still believe it was the correct decision. The only one I could have made. Yes, it’s sad that things couldn’t have been different, but I’m glad that I shall have his child. I won’t ever be totally without him, don’t you see?”
Edwina crawled out of her bed and moved over to mine. She hugged me until my ribs hurt. “Oh Sophia! I am so amazed at your strength. It will work out. I’ll be there to help. You’ll have a lovely baby and all of this will have been worth it.”
“I know,” I murmured. Everything will be fine.”
Edwina returned to her own bed, and we whispered “Good Night” to each other. Before long, she was fast asleep, but I never closed my eyes.
***
At two-o’clock on the afternoon of 21 January, 1936, Lord Owen Winnsborough and I took marriage vows in the Chapel at Willow Grove Abbey It seemed an amazingly short ceremony. Perhaps that was because I was in a dazed state during the entire affair. After pledging to live together in ‘God’s Holy Ordinance’ until death parted us, in less than fifteen minutes we were husband and wife. I was a married woman... married to a man I did not love, and never would.
My wedding gown was white velvet. If I had allowed Mummy to have her way it would have been ivory satin, embroidered with thousands of seed pearls and covered with Alencon lace. Thank goodness, time did not permit such an elaborate design. Thus, I was able to have the dress I preferred. I also wore a Spanish mantilla veil, of lovely old lace, which had been given me by my Godmother when I was just a child. I carried a bouquet of white roses and lilies. Edwina and Annie were my two attendants, wearing deep primrose, velvet frocks, with long, draped skirts, loose-fitting bodices, and chiffon bishop sleeves. They carried white calla lilies and pink roses. It was a simple wedding, but top drawer. We adorned the chapel with rose and crème ribbons on every pew, along with large masses of roses at the altar. Owen looked as handsome as possible in his Morning Suit. However, I could not say that I felt anything special as I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm.
Mummy was radiant in deep cranberry silk, wearing the rubies that Papa had purchased after her last rage, which had been the dreadful November scene. In fact, she had been spectacularly happy for longer than any of her children could remember. Blake and Drew joked that they would have forced me into marriage long before, had they known the effect it would have upon our mother. Edwina said that the Somervilles needed to have more weddings in the family, which, in retrospect, became a rather ironic comment. Engraved invitations went out, emblazoned with the family crest, and glorious gifts began to arrive. Mummy resembled a shopkeeper keeping detailed inventory. She kept a white leather bound book in which she itemized each gift as it arrived, and assigned a number to it. There were hours spent arranging each, in just the proper manner, showing it off to best advantage. I received heaps and heaps of Sterling silver, Wedgwood china, Baccarat, Waterford and Lalique crystal. I spent the last week before the wedding staying current with ‘Thank You’ notes. In between, there were teas and dinners. All of this kept me far too busy to think about anything else, which was a blessing. Although the guest list was small…less than one hundred…I was amazed at the number of gifts. Even persons who only received Announcements, which etiquette makes clear does not require the recipient to send a present, sent one anyway. It was rather fun to see the boxes arrive all day long.
My trousseau was extensive, and I was careful to select only those designs that were not terribly form fitting, in anticipation of the change my figure was about to undergo. It would be necessary to camouflage my condition for as long as possible. Thank Goodness there was no indication whatever of the pregnancy yet. If I was fortunate that would continue for many more months. The dressmaker nearly lost her mind trying to assemble an entire trousseau in such short order, Mummy purchased fourteen peignoir sets for me. They ranged in color from virginal white, which Edwina and I secretly giggled about, to pink and yellow. My mother believed that a bride should have a negligee for every night of her wedding trip, and mine was to last two weeks. Edwina said that when she married she would have no sleepwear at all, and I quite believed her. However, Edwina would not be marrying Owen Winnsborough. With all of the grandeur, the whole affair seemed like a theatrical production, in which I was the playing the lead. Unfortunately, when the curtain came down I would have to continue playing my part. I wondered if there were other brides who felt the way I did.
After the ceremony, all of the guests, both sets of parents, the rest of my family, and Owen and I proceeded from the Chapel to the main house at Willow Grove for a splendid wedding supper. An awning made a covered way from the edge of the curb to the front door. At the lower end, Joseph, our chauffeur, stood opening automobile doors and giving return checks to the other chauffeurs and their employers. Inside the house the florist had finished, and an orchestra was playing in the Great Hall. Everything was perfection. We took our places in front of the elaborate arrangement of plants and flowers that had been prepared for us. I stood on Owen’s right, and the bridesmaids stood to my left. Owen’s mother also received next to my mother, while both of our father’s circled about speaking with the guests. After receiving congratulations and best wishes from all of our guests, we were seated at a large round table, along with our parents, bridesmaids, and groomsmen. A lovely meal was served in several courses consisting of Court Bouillon, Lobster Newburg, Supreme of Chicken, Peas, Aspic of Foie Gras, Celery Salad, Ices and Coffee. Of course, in addition, there were the finest champagnes. In the center of the Bride’s table sat an elaborately designed, iced wedding cake. It was banked with gorgeous displays of white lilies and roses. It stood four tiers in height. There was much laughter and lightheartedness, and even Owen joined in the revelry. I nearly forgot for a moment that I was pregnant, which was, after all, the reason we were all gathered togethe
r. I made an excuse about not feeling like drinking, in order to avoid anything alcoholic. My parents were beyond exuberance, and one would never have guessed that only a few months before, Mummy had been curled in a fetal position on the floor of the Drawing Room, throwing a horrific tantrum because of my desire to marry Spence.
***
Twenty-four hours later, on the night of my marriage, I found myself in a suite of rooms at the Half Moon Hotel in Bath, with a man I scarcely knew. I was uncomfortably aware that physical demands were soon to be made. I’d tried to prepare mentally for the inevitable. Owen was far from sober when we arrived. He’d drunk a rather large quantity of champagne at the reception, which was undoubtedly de rigour for a newlywed man. I might have been more able to face the realities of the night if I were equally intoxicated. My condition prevented that. There was a bottle of champagne in our suite when we arrived. Opening it, Owen poured each of us a glass. Then, he proposed a toast, and held me in his arms for a moment, giving me a pathetic sort of kiss, with his lips closed. I pretended to take a small sip, and set my glass down. I waited for a more passionate kiss, but none was forthcoming. Believe it or not, Owen had never kissed me at all, up to that moment. I didn’t know what he expected of me. I bit my cheek to keep memories of my intimate moments with Spence from roaring back. Perhaps Owen was being considerate, not wanting to frighten me. Perhaps he simply respected me enormously. I decided that the best course of action would be to go to the bath, and prepare for what would surely follow. I walked across the lovely parlor to where my overnight case rested, and removed the first of my fourteen-peignoir sets. It was the white lace creation, festooned with pink rose buds.
Once in the privacy of the bath, I began to quiver. I was suddenly terribly nervous, and more than a little frightened. Although I’d had sexual encounters with Spence, and was pregnant, I still felt naive and uninformed. Naturally, the fact that I was not in the least attracted to my husband didn’t help matters. In addition, I definitely knew that I had to make Owen believe it was the first time for me. Mummy had taken me aside the morning of the wedding, and asked me if there was anything I needed to know. I told her that I didn’t believe so. She told me that I was to just lie still and let him do what he needed to do, and that it would be over quickly. She said that sometimes it felt rather good. I almost burst out laughing. Poor Mummy had obviously never enjoyed the passion that came with a love like I’d experienced with Spence. I ran the bath, filling the tub to near overflowing, and poured in my lavender oil. It felt heavenly to soak in that delicious tub, and it did help me to relax. I tried to envision my naked body as I imagined Owen would, and I was satisfied that he would be pleased. I was not vain, but knew that I could be quite desirable. Spence had proven that to me. The pregnancy had given me quite voluptuous breasts, but I still had a tiny waistline. In addition, my skin was creamy and smooth.
Stepping out of the tub, I rubbed myself dry with the soft, fluffy towel waiting on a nearby warmer. It felt wonderfully snugly. Then, I slipped the nightdress over my head and examined myself in the mirror. I did look rather fetching. I fluffed my curls, added a touch of lip rouge, and put a dab of perfume behind each earlobe and on the pulse points at my wrists. It was imperative that Owen find me irresistible. I was about to conceive his child! I was occupied in the bath for nearly an hour. During that time I assumed that Owen was doing whatever it is that men do to prepare for a wedding night. Perhaps he was relaxing in the parlor, or pretending to relax, so as not to make me nervous.
When I emerged, I felt very ready for what lay ahead. Not anxious nor eager, but ready. However, all of my carefully made plans went awry when I saw Owen stretched atop the white cover on the bed. He was still clothed in his formal attire, snoring loudly and lying at a diagonal angle, with an empty champagne bottle on the nightstand. I did not know how to react. On the one hand, I was relieved, for it appeared that I could simply curl up and go to sleep, undisturbed. On the other hand, I felt like bursting into tears. I had to consummate the marriage... time was of the essence. I suspected that Mummy, in the same circumstance, would have had a rage. However, I knew better than to start my marriage off in such a fashion, and besides, I was not temperamentally given to rages. At first, I thought he might awaken shortly, as it seemed likely that he had dozed off for just a moment. After all, I realized that it had been a long, tiring day. The previous night he had celebrated with his male friends until the wee hours. I decided to let him rest a bit longer.
Wandering into the parlor, I settled myself upon the camelback sofa. At first, I considered placing a telephone call to Edwina, but then remembered that my friend’s plans had been to return to Bury St. Edmunds directly following the reception. She was undoubtedly still en route. As I sat there trying to decide what to do, and feeling a bit frightened, I experienced a strange fluttering in my abdomen. My hand flew to my mid-section, instinctively and protectively. I did not know what to make of such an odd sensation. Then, I realized that I was feeling life for the first time. Spence’s child was reminding me of its presence at precisely the proper moment. It was a never-to- be- forgotten occurrence, and it brought reality home with colossal force. I had no more qualms about what I must do. I resolutely walked straight to the bed chamber and gently shook Owen until he awakened. He came round slowly, but finally realized where he was and who was rousing him. I quickly helped to undress him, which he was quite incapable of doing for himself, and I pulled the covers back, made him get under them and slipped in beside him.
Our wedding night bore no resemblance whatsoever to my passionate afternoons with Spence. Nor had I expected that it would. However, I was surprised at Owen’s almost total lack of enthusiasm. I’d always been led to believe that men were bonkers about sex. At first, I assumed that the excessive amount of alcohol consumed, coupled with fatigue, accounted for his lackluster performance. In this role, as in so many others I’d had to undertake, I was a consummate actress. I need not have worried about whether he would guess that I was not a virgin, for he seemed much more concerned with himself. However, for some reason, I felt as if he too might be acting. The entire deed was over very quickly, which suited me perfectly. The important thing was that from that day forward I would be able to claim Owen as the father of my child.
We continued to the south of France for the remainder of the wedding trip. If I’d been dreading the thought of frequent sexual demands, I need not have worried. Owen did not touch me again during the entire fortnight. No matter how inexperienced and naive I may have been, I was not a total fool and knew that his behavior was abnormal. I was not about to question him though, since I was actually quite relieved at his behavior, or rather the lack of it. Each night I disappeared into the opulent gold and marble appointed dressing room and bath in our splendid suite, and when I emerged, Owen was fast asleep. Thus, we settled into our routine of pleasant day trips to quaint, medieval villages, high in the hills overlooking Cannes and Nice. My favorite was St. Paul de Vence, and I bought a lovely painting of the town. We took shopping expeditions to elegant boutiques along the Promenade Des’Anglais, consumed sumptuous dinners in fashionable restaurants, took long strolls along the seawall, and then quietly returned to our suite at the Paradise Cay in Cap d’Antibes and retired. It was quite nice. Owen treated me with great deference and was even somewhat affectionate in public. Strangely, he did not act as though there was anything inappropriate about his behavior. I wondered if perhaps no one had ever explained to him about the physical side of marriage, which was preposterous. I was grateful we had consummated the marriage on the first night or I would have been beside myself. As it was, I was actually able to relax. It had been a long time since I’d been able to do so. In such a fashion the wedding trip ended and we returned to England to set up housekeeping at Winnsborough Hall.
CHAPTER EIGHT
March, 20-July20, 1936
An Expectant Mother
I began practicing the intricacies of managing a massive country house. There w
as such a large staff at Winnsborough Hall, that it took me quite a good bit of time to learn everyone’s’ names and duties. I had a social secretary who saw to the writing and acceptance of invitations, as well as entering into an engagement book every appointment made for Owen and me, whether it was an afternoon tea, lunch, dinner, dress fitting or doctor’s appointment. She also audited all bills and drew the checks for them. Her name was Audrey Evans, and she was highly capable. Of course, we had a housekeeper, whose name was Mrs. Whittaker. She had been with the Winnsboroughs since Owen was a child, and was of immeasurable help to me. In no time at all, we found that we worked very well together. She had charge of the appearance of the house and of its contents; the manners and looks of the housemaids and parlor maids, as well as their work in cleaning walls, floors, ornaments, pictures, furniture, books and taking care of the linen. Besides Mrs. Whittaker, the most important member of the staff was our Butler, Morris. He had charge of the pantry and dining room, engaged all footman and was in charge of their work and appearance. Then there was Mary, who was in charge of the kitchen, and the undercook. In spite of all of this assistance, I still found that I had plenty to keep me occupied and I also found that I greatly enjoyed the freedom and independence that came with being married, even though my husband was not who I’d dreamed he might have been.
Willow Grove Abbey: A Historical World War II Romance Novel (The Somerville Trilogy) Page 12