Willow Grove Abbey: A Historical World War II Romance Novel (The Somerville Trilogy)

by Payne, Mary Christian

  “Do you think you’ll ever really get over him?”

  “Oh, I’ll move on. I guess I already have, really. I cannot imagine falling in love that way again. Everything about Spence was my absolute ideal. If someone had given me paper and pen, and asked me to list all of the traits I was searching for in a mate, my completed list would describe him.

  “Well, I must admit that he is an attractive man. Of course, I never knew him well, but he seemed smashing. I would probably change only one thing about him, if he were to match my ideal man.”

  What would that be?” I asked. “Spence is so perfect in my eyes, I cannot imagine changing anything about him.”

  “He’d be older. I prefer older men.”

  “But, Spence is older. He’s seven years older than I am.”

  “No…I mean quite considerably older. Perhaps twenty or even thirty years older.”

  “I’ve never known that about you, Edwina. You have never been involved with someone that much older. Or have you?” I grinned.

  “No, not really. I’ve had crushes. You know what I mean. Sometimes there are impediments that cause difficulties.”

  “What sort of impediments?”

  Edwina looked down at the table and her eyes darted to the right and left. I’d never felt that she kept secrets from me, but the thought crossed my mind just for an instant. “Oh just things,” Edwina answered, twirling her glass in her fingers. “An older man will sometimes think that a younger woman shouldn’t become involved with him. Sometimes he will be too set in his ways... or married... or something.”

  I laughed. “Edwina. If I know you, there isn’t any impediment that you couldn’t overcome.”

  Well, there really are some,” she smiled.

  Next, we moved to the topic of the moment. People in cafes all across the globe were obsessed with England’s new King Edward the Eighth, and his paramour Mrs. Simpson. It was fast becoming the most astonishing story. Apparently, the couple had embarked on an eastern Mediterranean cruise aboard a yacht called the Lady Nahlin. Photographs of the King, who looked like a young boy with his untidy golden locks and a tanned, bare chest, flanked by the notorious American divorcee, were appearing daily in newspapers and magazines worldwide. I was astonished at how little I actually knew of the story. Paris whispered appalling and titillating tales, and Edwina was the perfect person from whom to learn all of the details. Because she had recently returned to classes at Esmod International, she was up-to-date on all of the gossip. She described how, at a remote spot near Dubrovnik, visited on the cruise, the local militia had been summoned to handle the crowds. I was enthralled by the story. In fact, I was so wrapped up in Edwina’s recitation that I was completely unaware that we were no longer a party of two. A third person was standing next to my chair. Edwina stopped speaking and her face drained of color.

  “Edwina, what in heaven’s name is the matter? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” I remarked, while turning my head in the direction toward which Edwina’s eyes were riveted. Then, my heart felt as if it were doing a somersault, and I literally gasped for air. As difficult as it was to believe, there stood Spence. I was speechless.

  He spoke first. “Well, Sophia and Edwina. I thought that looked like you, and yet it seemed inconceivable that it could be. Don’t the damnedest things happen? I’m in Paris for a two-day medical meeting. I don’t normally attend these fool things. Now, who should I meet but the two of you. This is incredible.”

  “Yes…incredible,” I echoed.

  ”Unbelievable,” repeated Edwina.

  “Serendipity?” Spence stated.

  “What?” Edwina asked.

  “Serendipity. That’s what this impromptu meeting is. It refers to something that’s meant to be... predestined... fate. I believe we spoke of this once, Sophia,” he answered, looking at me with those flinty, direct blue eyes.

  “That’s an interesting word,” Edwina said. “I’ll have to remember it.” She smiled and played with a lock of her hair.

  “How are you Spence?” I asked, almost frightened to look at him, for fear my feelings would show.

  “I’m quite well, Sophia. And you? You’re looking well.” He smiled again, and my chest tightened. He turned to Edwina. “I assume you’re still in school here, or have you finished by now?” he asked.

  “This is my second year, Spence. I’ve just begun my second year.” Edwina was repeating herself, which meant that she was as nervous as I was... something rare for my always-poised friend.

  He turned back to face me. “And what brings you to Paris, Sophia?”

  “I’ve been visiting Edwina... on holiday... visiting... sightseeing.” I sounded a fool. My thoughts were all a jumble, and I could not seem to regain my composure. I wanted to say to him that I was in Paris because I’d just borne his child... a beautiful, little girl named Isabella, who had his eyes and his mouth.

  Edwina finally found her manners, but I wasn’t at all certain how I felt about what happened next.

  “Won’t you join us, Spence?” she asked.

  “Thank you, Edwina. Yes, I’d be delighted. I’ve a train to catch in a matter of hours, but I should love to buy you ladies a glass of wine.” With that, he pulled out an empty chair at the table, and seated himself to my left. I was terribly conscious of his presence, and of the warmth spreading across my face. He ordered another bottle of wine, and I looked helplessly across the table at Edwina. The waiter brought the wine and poured it. Spence settled back into his chair.

  “I heard that you’d married, Sophia,” he commented, in an offhanded fashion.

  “Yes, Last January, actually.” My insides were churning.

  “To Lord Owen Winnsborough, is it?”

  “Yes... Owen and I knew each other from childhood.”

  “I believe I read the announcement in the Times. So then, is your husband accompanying you on this visit?”

  “No,” I answered, almost too quickly. “No... This is just a ‘girls’ get together.”

  Edwina interrupted at that juncture. “Sophia was widowed in July, Spence.”

  “Oh... oh, I am sorry, Sophia. I didn’t know... hadn’t heard.”

  “I figured everyone in Great Britain had heard,” I replied, looking down at the table

  “Was it an accident? He was so young,” Spence asked.

  Yes... well, we aren’t certain. He was found in the Thames.”

  “My God... I had no idea. What an awful turn of events.”

  “Yes,” answered Edwina. That’s why Sophia is here with me in Paris. Just getting away from all of the sadness and upset.” I flashed her a look and kicked her under the table. I didn’t want Spence to know of Isabella’s birth. Thank goodness, she wisely understood, and said nothing more.

  “Are you living in London, then?” he asked me.

  “No, I’m at Winnsborough Hall, the family country estate. However, I do have a flat in London, and that’s where I eventually plan to settle.”

  “I see. And when will you be returning to England?”

  “I’ll probably leave here sometime late this month or early in December. I suspect I shall spend the holidays at Willow Grove Abbey with my family, and then move up to London after the New Year. How are you doing Spence? I gather you’re still practicing medicine in Twigbury?” I tried to smile, as I sipped my glass of wine, but it wasn’t easy.

  “Yes, still in Twigbury,” he answered.

  “Have you married?” Edwina asked, as I looked aghast.

  “No Edwina, but I am engaged,”

  When he gave that answer, I actually felt a pain shoot through my heart. I’d known I would hear those words one day... it was just so dreadfully hard to hear them from Spence’s own lips, and at such a time in my own life. I wanted to scream out that I still loved him... that we shared a beautiful daughter, and that I’d made a beastly mistake. Nevertheless, none of that was possible. He had fallen in love with someone else, and that other woman would be his wife. I thought bac
k to the night at the Royal, and the words he had spoken about what a special love we shared. How quickly that seemed to have been forgotten. It was exactly what I’d known would happen when I turned down his proposal of marriage, shattering both of our dreams. It was entirely my fault.

  “I’m happy for you Spence,” I lied. Edwina looked at me in amazement. She was surprised that I could utter the words. So was I.

  “Thank you, Sophia.” He didn’t seem to radiate joy.

  “So... who is the lucky woman, Spence? Do I know her? Or does Sophia?”

  “I believe so, Edwina. I know Sophia is acquainted with her, and I should imagine you are, as well, since she too is an Ashwick Park girl. Her name is Charlotte. Charlotte Ross In fact, you were there when I met her, Sophia. That night at the Royal Thames Room, when she was with another fellow . . . I believe William Young was his name.”

  I nearly fell off my chair. Charlotte Ross? That manipulative little creature who clearly wanted to crawl all over Spence when we met at the Royal! How on Earth could he have become involved with her? Let alone engaged to her?

  Edwina responded before she’d had time to think clearly. “Oh dear. I know Charlotte from Ashwick Park. She always wanted to be an actress. I didn’t know her well, but cannot say I liked much of what I did know.

  “That was undoubtedly schoolgirl competitiveness. She’s really a charming person. And she is an actress. I saw her last week at the Shakespearean festival. She was marvelous. I’m really quite proud of her.”

  “Spence, from what I know of Charlotte, I cannot imagine her wanting to settle down in Twigbury as a doctor’s wife,” I blurted out.

  “We’ve discussed it, and she believes she’ll be happy. We have a lot in common. She’s of Irish heritage and is Catholic.” There was complete silence after that remark. He clearly did not mean it to be vengeful, nor even to bring back painful memories. Rather, it was obvious that Spence had learned that commonalities in background and religion were important factors when one contemplated marriage. It was clear that he had decided not to become involved with another woman from a noble linage. I was profoundly hurt by his statement, only because I’d so foolishly led him to believe that any of those things truly mattered to me. My head was reeling as I thought of Charlotte Ross and Spence together.

  “How did you and Charlotte end up together?” I asked. My curiosity was simply too great. I had to know. He had seemed rather disgusted with her that night at the Royal.

  “I suppose you might say it was another serendipitous moment,” he answered. “We ran into one another in all of places, Twigbury. She was apparently intrigued enough at my comments about how charming and quaint I found the town, and decided she had to see for herself. She drove over from London, on a Saturday, and I ran into her sitting by the Twig River where it babbles along near my office.”

  I was one hundred percent positive that Charlotte had planned the entire thing, so that she would ‘accidently’ run into Spence. She must have researched where his office was located, and then perched herself nearby, knowing full well she would eventually see him. It was amazing to me that he wasn’t able to see how conniving she was. However, I didn’t say what I was thinking, and just told him what a tremendous coincidence it seemed to be.

  There was silence for a moment, as we three listened to the street sounds of Paris on an autumn evening.

  Spence cleared his throat. “So…I couldn’t help but overhear your discussion about our fair-haired King and his American woman. I’m sorry I interrupted. I gather that the relationship is causing quite a stir here on the Continent. All of Paris seems much more knowledgeable about it than those of us who rarely leave England.” He was making a gargantuan effort to move to another topic. I appreciated his doing so. I felt a bit embarrassed that he’d overheard our silly, schoolgirl’s conversation, but he didn’t seem to be speaking in a condescending tone. “I’ve heard nothing but gossip about this cruise since my arrival in Paris,” he continued. “There’s actually talk of the King wanting to marry the lady. This is even being discussed in Court circles.”

  “How extraordinary,” I remarked. “I don’t believe that the English people will ever stand for a twice-divorced woman on the throne.”

  “That seems unlikely, doesn’t it?” Spence answered, as I made every effort not to concentrate upon how handsome he was.

  “Her divorce proceedings are soon to be heard at Ipswich, and Prime Minister Baldwin is even beginning to show concern. At least, that’s what I’m hearing,” Edwina added.

  “Good Lord! Has Edward simply gone bonkers?” I exclaimed.

  “It seems so,” Spence replied, smiling. As he continued to speak of the Royal scandal, I allowed my mind to wander to lingering memories of the summer of 1935. How different my life was then. How much in love I’d been. That hadn’t changed, of course. I still loved him, and knew nothing would ever alter those feelings. However, I knew that I could never say those words to him again. I could still feel his lips upon mine, as well as the warmth of his caresses. Indeed, I had a miracle child because of our love. I had to force myself back to the reality of the moment. The conversation had turned to the alarming rumors of aggression and military build-up in Germany, master-minded and under the control of an odd little man, with wild eyes and a stubby moustache, named Adolph Hitler. Spence grew very serious when he brought up Herr Hitler’s name. It was exceedingly clear that he was not joking when he said that such an evil man could alter the face of Europe, and perhaps the course of all of our lives. His words were chilling. I knew nothing of war or its horrors, other than stories I’d heard of the Great War of 1914, which was a year from its end when I was born in 1917. Papa served in that conflict, as had England’s new King, when he was still a young Prince of Wales. There were members of the Somerville family who were lost in that conflict, and as a result, Mummy hated Germans out of all proportion to reason. Her elder brother, whom she had worshipped, died while defending the Maginot Line. There were horror stories about poison gas and indescribable destruction. Willow Grove Abbey had been commandeered by the military to serve as a hospital facility. I remembered those tales, and thought that surely such a thing couldn’t happen again.

  The wine bottle was empty and the crowd at Les Deux Magots had thinned, while a melancholy mood settled over the three of us. I was weary and it was late when Spence wisely chose to bring the evening to an end. “This has been a smashing reunion, ladies. I’m still shocked at having run into you here.”

  “Serendipity,” Edwina repeated, smiling.

  “Yes…Serendipity,” he echoed. “Nevertheless, if I’m to make my train, I’d best be on my way. Edwina, you look marvelous, as always. Don’t break too many hearts,” he laughed, as he placed an arm about her and gave her a brotherly kiss on the forehead.

  Edwina, in turn, wished him “Godspeed,” and discreetly excused herself, saying that she needed to speak to some friends at another table. Spence turned to me, and his expression became very serious. “Sophia, you’re even more beautiful than I remembered. I’m so very sorry for your loss, and I truly wish you happiness... it’s what you deserve.” He took both of my hands in his, and it was all I could do to keep from trembling. “I’ve thought of you so often,” he said.

  My God. Does he still love me too? Then why is he marrying someone else? “I’ve thought of you too,” I answered, almost afraid to speak.

  “We shared something special, didn’t we Sophia? I don’t suppose one ever totally forgets that sort of thing. I surely haven’t. However, one moves on,” he said, as he looked directly into my eyes. I was mesmerized. I might have been back on the terrace of Willow Grove Abbey, or in that tiny cottage in Twigbury. I knew that I needed to respond to his words... to let him know that I, too, still remembered. However, there was Isabella, and too many lies, and it was all so impossible. Tears were stinging my eyes. I was glad that it wasn’t daylight.

  “It’s been wonderful to see you, Spence,” I replied. I so hope that
you will be happy in your marriage.” There was a huge lump in my throat.

  “If you should ever visit Twigbury, do look me up,” he smiled. “And, if you should ever need a friend, please never hesitate to ring me.”

  “But, Spence, when do you plan on marrying?” I asked. How could he be suggesting that I ring him up in Twigbury if he was to be married?

  “Not soon, Sophia. I’m being cautious this time round,” he said, with a wry smile. A breeze blew up, ruffling his hair, and I remembered the day we picnicked in Hyde Park, when he’d kissed me for the first time. I could not think of anything to say. Or couldn’t say the words that I was thinking.

  “When you come up to London, I should love to see you,” I finally managed, after finding my voice. I knew that I should not have said it. Certainly, no good could come of our seeing one another again. But, it was so difficult to say goodbye to him believing that I might never see him again. Parting seemed to be a bit easier if I pretended that we would see one other again in the future.

  “I’ll look forward to that,” he replied. Then, he astounded me. He leaned down and put his lips on mine. His arms followed, wrapping around me in a warm, snug embrace. This was no brotherly kiss. I returned it with the same show of love that I always had. I wondered how Charlotte Ross have would felt about it, and did not care one whit. I was glad that Charlotte wasn’t there, and was certain that I would remember that night in Paris for the rest of my life. And I have.

  Later, on the ride home, Edwina was uncharacteristically quiet. She was certainly aware that I was thinking about Spence, and feeling anguish over the news of his engagement. Suddenly, she broke the silence.

  “He doesn’t love her.”

  “Who are you referring to? What do you mean? Are you speaking of the King and Mrs. Simpson?”

  “No... No... The King is potty over her. I’m speaking of Spence. He doesn’t love that obnoxious Charlotte Ross,” she stated, in a supremely confident voice.

  “How can you be so certain? After all, he’s asked her to marry him.”