“No more a fool than any of a million people. Good Lord, Edwina, look at Papa,” I replied. We stood there, looking at one another for a moment, and then the most amazing thing happened. We both were overcome with laughter. Gales and gales of laughter. It could only have happened between Edwina and me. The nightmare evening and all of its drama were not without humor, and it was undoubtedly healthy that both of us were able to see that. After all, we were still young girls, in spite of all we had weathered. Laughter had always been an integral part of our world. Especially in times of crisis.
Finally, we returned to the house, and I showed Edwina to her room. Then I checked on Isabella before retiring for the night. My little girl was sleeping soundly, with her thumb in her mouth, and her little terrier, Maggie, snuggled next to her bed. I was so glad that Isabella had not witnessed the scene in the dining room. However, I was suddenly keenly aware of the very real possibility that one of Mummy’s outbursts would someday affect Isabella’s life. That’s when I knew that the time had come to make the move to London.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
September 1937 – February 1938
A Move
The more I thought about relocating to London, the more appealing the idea became. Therefore, the following week I travelled to the Capitol, and stayed at the Sumner Street flat. I left Isabella in the care of Martha, as there was a great deal to be done in preparation for permanent relocation. Edwina stayed on at Willow Grove, saying that she was exhausted from the horrid scene with Dieter, and wanted peace and tranquility for a few days. I understood her feelings, and didn’t press for her to come to London. It was obvious that she had a lot of sorting out to do, and felt she could best accomplish that alone. Edwina always knew that she could come to me and talk, if she felt the need.
My primary task upon arrival in London was to convert one of the bedrooms into a nursery for Isabella. The flat was furnished in a heavy, Victorian style. While I found some of the pieces attractive, I felt that most of the colors were far too dark. So, I arranged to have the parlor done over with crème-colored, watered silk walls, and an Aubusson rug, woven with shades of rose and crème. The windows were covered in heavy, dark green damask, which I immediately tore down, and replaced with ivory taffeta. This lightened the room enormously. I was adamant about re-doing the master bedroom, as well. The present duvet cover was crème, and the walls were pale blue, but there was dark blue carpeting on the floor and the draperies were midnight blue velvet. I decided to do the entire room in white, with faint touches of rose as an accent color. The comforter was replaced with a thick, white, goose down covered with a white Matillese duvet. Then, I filled the bed with gorgeous white decorative pillows, in delicate fabrics such as eyelet and organdy. White carpeting was ordered, as well as enormous fluffy, white curtains of lined handkerchief linen, draped into a bishop’s sleeve.
Perhaps most importantly, was the room I planned for Isabella. I wanted it to be the quintessential little girl’s room, predominantly pink and white. I selected a baby cot with a white organza canopy over the top. There was a comforter in a pink, white and taupe paisley print with matching curtains, as well as magnificent needlepoint carpeting, sporting a design of lambs and ducks.
Finally, I completely renovated the kitchen, borrowing from Edwina’s décor, with black and white marble on the floors, and white marble counters. Everything took time and I made many trips back and forth to Willow Grove during that period. I worked non-stop on the flat throughout the early winter of 1937, and grew well-acquainted with an entire crew of workmen. My plans were to begin living there on a permanent basis after 1 January, 1938. Isabella and I spent Christmas, 1937 at Willow Grove, but I was already looking ahead to sharing our own home, which had been so lovingly renovated. I’d taken leave from classes at the University, as well as duties with Dr. Hausfater, while arranging for the move. It was an immensely busy time.
Edwina finally did make the decision to return to Paris. I had truly begun to wonder if she would ever leave Willow Grove Abbey... After all, she’d been there since the ghastly party in September, and through the Holidays, with only a brief absence for a visit to her own family in Bury St. Edmunds for Christmas. However, my parents seemed content to have her there, so there seemed no reason for interference. Perhaps because I was spending less and less time at my family home, and had plans to move so soon, my parents found solace in the fact that Edwina was still an integral part of their lives. Finally, however, she came to London with plans to be my guest for three days en route to Paris. We spent most of our time at Sumner Street, catching up on chatter. Isabella was still at Willow Grove, so it was a nice time for us to be ‘just girls’, reminiscent of our time together in Paris. When I look back now, Edwina seemed somewhat subdued, and more mature during that visit. She seemed softer. At any rate, it was clear that time in the country had been a nice respite for her.
“Will you return to school when you resume life in Paris?” I asked her one afternoon, as we enjoyed tea in the newly decorated parlor. We were both sitting cross-legged on the couch.
“I think I’m ready to take on the design world, Sophia. I’ve had several offers to start in a beginner’s capacity in some of the better houses. I contacted a few when I was at Willow Grove Abbey, and sent copies of my portfolio. If I get a final offer, I hoping to join Vionnet.”
“Oh Edwina, how exciting. Your dreams are coming true. Isn’t that marvelous? Vionnet designed my Presentation Ball dress. Remember? The one with the appliqued swallows scattered across it. I adored that dress. I am so very proud of you.”
“Yes, I have to admit, I’m pretty darned proud of myself. Without a man in my life, this is the perfect time for me to really concentrate upon a career.” She didn’t sound at all upset about her newfound freedom.
“”Edwina, I never knew you to base your future happiness on having a man in your life. That was my mother’s dream for me. Remember? ‘The suitable man ‘. Honestly, the last thing I ever thought you wanted or needed was a man to muddy the waters. After all, you haven’t fallen in love with your artist yet, and lived in his garret, I laughed.”
“Well, dear heart,” Edwina smiled, I just may have to skip that particular fantasy. I’ve found out a lot more about myself. It’s been a very beneficial time. I’ve a much better perspective of what I want out of life... Of what sort of man would be good for me. I’ve been all wrong in my choices.” This was curious talk from Edwina. I had never heard her speak so seriously about men and love. It had always been a whimsical topic. I had undergone profound changes after Isabella’s birth, and now it was evident that Edwina was experiencing something akin to what I’d gone through, albeit due to different circumstances.
“And what type of man have you decided would be your ideal?” I asked, genuinely interested.
“Defiantly someone more mature. Older than I am. I believe I told you that once before, when you were in Paris just after Isabella’s birth. That I prefer older men. I suppose it isn’t surprising, when one considers that my Dad is twenty-eight years older than Mum. I’m more secure and feel more appreciated by older men, and they aren’t so apt to have foolish, radical thoughts, like Dieter.”
“Edwina, doesn’t the prospect of marrying a much older man frighten you a bit? It’s almost a given that in such a case, you would be widowed, perhaps early in your life?”
“My Mum isn’t widowed yet. And my father is sixty-eight, and neither is yours, and your Papa is sixty-five.”
“Yes... when you put it like that, it doesn’t seem so far-fetched, does it? But... well, I guess we’re just very different in that respect. I can’t see what you would have in common with someone that much older. Especially you, Edwina. You’re so full of life and so... so... young.” I laughed.”
“I think once two people are adults, age difference really doesn’t matter all that much.”
Yes... perhaps you’re right. You mentioned ‘security’. Do you mean to say that you need a man to feel secur
e? Not you, Edwina.”
“It would be lovely to never have to worry about money, or with having to support myself if I didn’t want to. Especially if I were to have a child, which I think I would like to do someday. After you had Isabella, I realized how important having a child can be.”
“Well…I’m certainly not going to argue about that. As you know, Isabella made my life whole. Is there someone in your life who makes you feel this way?” I asked.
“No. No one in particular,” she answered, after a moment’s hesitation. I sensed that she might be holding something back, which was entirely out of character for her. We had always shared every secret, and it was hard for me to imagine why now Edwina would decide not to tell me if she had developed feelings for someone. I’d sensed something of the same sort while in Paris, discussing the same topic. However, I certainly understood that it was my friend’s prerogative to keep private emotions to herself. Perhaps she wasn’t yet certain of her feelings. Therefore, I let the matter drop, and decided that when and if the time was right, Edwina would tell me. I enjoyed my dear friend’s company during those few days, and was sorry to see her leave.
***
I recall early 1938 as peaceful and content. At least, that was true of my life. Isabella, Martha and I made the transition to Sumner Street quite smoothly. Martha was thrilled with my request to have her join our household in London, as her parents had relocated to Lambeth from Lincolnshire. She would be able to see them much more frequently. She, too, would be living on Sumner Street, which could easily accommodate all of us, since there were three bedrooms. She was to see to the running of the house, while I devoted time to studies. I already knew that she and Isabella were very compatible. Isabella was fast developing into an exceptionally sweet child, and Martha had adored her from the beginning. There was a lovability about Isabella that one didn’t often encounter in children her age. She was thoughtful and had a desire to show affection. I wanted to foster all of those natural, God-given qualities. Isabella thought Martha was splendid, since she fussed over her so, and knew exactly how to satisfy my little girl’s craving for learning new things. From the beginning, it was clear that Martha had been the correct choice as someone who could assist with housekeeping chores, as well as perform duties as Isabella’s nanny. I would have been happy to add a Rose, to take the load from Martha’s shoulders, but she wouldn’t hear of it. In no time at all, the flat was transformed into a light, airy, happy home, where the fragrance of pastries, pies and freshly baked bread continually drifted from the kitchen.
Dr. Hausfater rang me in February, asking that I meet him at one of my favorite pubs in London. His call somewhat puzzled me. I assumed that he wanted to speak about when I might be ready to resume classes and duties at University. He had taken such kind and special interest in me, and I felt very fortunate to have him in my life. I looked forward to meeting with him, as we hadn’t seen one other, nor spoken at length, for some time. We had engaged in a long talk following the scene at Willow Grove Abbey on Isabella’s birthday, and I was greatly relieved that he didn’t hold any resentment toward me or my family for what had turned out to be a ghastly evening. He’d become such a dear person to me. I would have felt dreadful if there had been animosity. I had no idea at the time that the forthcoming meeting with him would bring about a sea change in my life. I kissed Isabella goodbye, and left her sitting at a small table in the kitchen helping Martha make cookies.
It was a bitterly cold February afternoon. I left Sumner Street wrapped snugly in a red cashmere coat, mittens, muffler, Wellington boots, and red beret. There were dark clouds overhead, spitting a mixture of sleet and rain. In addition, there was still snow in the streets, serving as a reminder of the enormous winter storm that had roared through London and environs the previous week. I trudged along, taking care not to slip and fall on the many patches of ice still on the sidewalk. I lowered my head, as I walked into the biting wind, which was blowing from the north. My newly styled, shorter curls were tucked beneath the red woolen beret. I’d felt as though I looked rather fetching when glancing into the foyer mirror upon my departure from Sumner Street. I could feel the cold, sharp wind bring roses to my cheeks, as I scurried across Sloan Square. Suddenly, I came to an abrupt halt. Noticing a familiar figure moving toward me from the opposite direction, I was knocked for six. It was Spence. It had been so long since that night at Deux Magots, yet I would have recognized his handsome face and tall, athletic frame no matter the time or distance. I wondered if he would notice me, and wasn’t certain if I should acknowledge him if he didn’t. Should I continue on my way, looking down at the pavement as we passed? Once again, my heart was in my throat. Fortunately, the dilemma resolved itself, for indeed, he did see me.
“Well, I’ll be damned. It’s happened again. We just seem to continue running into one another,” Spence exclaimed.
“Why, Hallo Spence,” I replied, acting surprised to have come upon him so unexpectedly, and pretending to have just seen him. He extended his leather-gloved hand, and I placed my own mitten-clad one into his. I so wished I’d chosen to wear my Italian kidskin gloves. I felt childish. He seemed, however, to be genuinely pleased at our accidental encounter.
“Serendipity,” he smiled.
“Yes. You seem to have been on target,” I replied, also smiling.
“Where are you rushing off to on such a dreadful day?” he asked.
“I’m meeting a former professor of mine,” I responded. “I’m not altogether certain what the meeting is about. We’re fast friends and I respect him enormously, but he’s never asked me to meet him away from University.”
“Sounds intriguing,” Spence grinned. “Is he a handsome young chap fresh from Oxford or Cambridge?”
“Oh no, no,” I protested. “Nothing of the sort. I daresay he is sixty at least. Perhaps older.”
Well, you must be careful that you don’t beguile the old gentleman with those eyes of yours,” His tone was bantering, and it reminded me of our first meeting on the night of my debut.
“Oh my! I hardly think that’s a concern,” I smiled. He seemed about to initiate further conversation, but the arrival of a tall, svelte, posh redhead halted our brief exchange. I needn’t add that it was Charlotte Ross.
“Spencer, darling, here you are! I’ve been waiting for what seems ages, and then I spy you over here, across from where you’re supposed to be. Good Heavens, my dear, it is ghastly cold. How cruel of you to keep me waiting in this awful weather,” she exclaimed, in a breathy, dramatic voice.
“Charlotte, I do apologize. I’ve just stumbled onto Sophia Somerville. You know we’ve known one another for eons. She’s the sister of a former school chum. Sophia, you remember your former school mate, Charlotte Ross?” He made the introductions a bit awkwardly, and I could not help but wince when he referred to me as merely the sister of a school chum. He directed a look toward me that held a hint of apology for having to deny what we had once shared. Then, in what seemed an afterthought, he added that Charlotte was now his fiancée. His voice sounded reticent, but I have to admit that I could have been reading those feelings into the way he spoke. I knew that he hadn’t yet married, as Drew had seen him over the Holidays at a gathering of former school chaps. He’d told me that Spence didn’t seem in a great hurry to ‘tie the knot’.
Charlotte wore gorgeous, elbow-length, black kid gloves, elegant open-toed high-heeled pumps, and a very chic hat with a black net veil covering the top half of her obviously breath-taking face. I didn’t remember that she was so lovely. Her coat was fur. Black Seal, I thought. I hated her. She stood there in her posh elegance, possessively slipping her arm through Spence’s. “Hallo, Sophia. I haven’t seen you since the night I met Spence at the Thames Room. Did you know that we’re now engaged? Spence is just too, too much of a treasure. He’s even changed my mind about living in a small Cotswold village. Isn’t he utterly amazing?”
I knew that she meant to send the message that Spence cared only for her
, and nobody but her. I did not know how Charlotte sensed that I wanted him too, but women have uncanny abilities. Of course, I had no idea what he had shared with her about our failed romance, but if they were planning on marriage, I image she knew quite a lot about me. I was aware of an intense feeling of jealousy, which was not a familiar emotion for me. It made me want to get away from both of them, as quickly as possible. I almost feared that Charlotte or Spence could read my thoughts. I managed to extend a few socially acceptable comments, and, as swiftly as possible, departed. “It was lovely running into you, Spence, and so nice to see you again, Charlotte. I really must be on my way, as I’m late for an appointment. “Best wishes to you both,” I murmured, moving on. I knew that Spence had to have seen the heartache in my eyes. I could only hope that he didn’t understand my behavior too well. I left them both standing in Sloan Square, as I dashed off to my destination, wishing I’d followed my original instincts and taken a taxicab. In my haste, I hadn’t even asked Spence what he was doing in London.
I arrived at the pub a few moments before my scheduled meeting, despite fears that I might be late. I visited the loo before being shown to a table, where Dr. Hausfater was already seated. He stood as I approached, and motioned to the chair opposite his, which the waiter held for me. I had removed my beret and mittens in the loo and now slipped out of my coat, placing it on the adjoining, empty chair.
“Lady Winnsborough. Sophia. How good of you to come. My apologies for bringing you out on such a day, but I really was most anxious to speak with you,” my professor said.”
Willow Grove Abbey: A Historical World War II Romance Novel (The Somerville Trilogy) Page 20