“Yes. So resilient. Thank you, Spence. I do think this was a terribly wise decision. You’ve obviously made her very happy”
“It has made me happy, too. I feel better than in a long time. Anger is so unhealthy. It eats away at a person, until they wonder if they can bear another moment of pain.”
“I’m sorry for everything, Spence. I was a stupid, immature fool.” I began to weep. He was standing by the fireplace, with an unreadable expression on his face. He turned, as though in preparation to leave, but then stopped in the foyer. Striding over to where I sat, half-slumped over the arm of the sofa with my head buried in a cushion, he reached out and placed his arms about my waist, pulling me to my feet. Then, he swept me into his arms, and kissed me with fierce passion. But, as quickly as the embrace began it ended, and he dropped his arms to his sides.
“Spence, what is it? Why did you stop? You know how I feel about you... That I’ve always loved you. Can’t you forgive my foolishness? You just said that you aren’t angry anymore.”
“Sophia, Sophia. No, I’m not angry, and yes, I’ve forgiven you. My reluctance to renew our relationship has nothing to do with forgiveness.”
“What does it have to do with, then?”
“Trust, Sophia. Without trust, there’s no hope for a relationship. I want to trust you, but I’m just not certain that I can. Don’t you understand what your lies did to me? How can I be certain that the next time you’re faced with a crisis, you won’t revert to dishonesty?”
“Spence, I know what I did was wrong. I would never, ever do anything so foolish again. I’ll never let my parents rule my life like that again”
“Sophia, it isn’t just my being able to trust you. I need to believe that you trust me. If you had trusted me before, when you learned you were pregnant, you would have come to me, not to Edwina. You would have trusted that I would have known what to do, and how to handle it”
“I realize that, Spence. I acted like a frightened child. But, I’ve grown and changed. Please believe me”
“Sophia, now is not the time to begin anew. We’re at war and no one knows how long it will last. We haven’t the time necessary to learn to trust again. I’m not ready to make that sort of commitment, and certainly not in the midst of war. Too many people have made rash decisions in times of war, only to regret them later. I’m not going to start something I cannot finish. Let’s just leave it as it is for now.”
“I remember another time when we said that to one another,” I said, through my tears. That beautiful, innocent summer when first we met. Only that time I said it to you.”
“Yes. I remember. Do you think I’ve forgotten one moment of that splendid summer? I’ve ached with memories of those times.”
“So have I, Spence. And for all of your talk tonight of rationality and trust, I believe... No... I’m certain, that you still love me. And I know I still love you. Nothing you can say, and no amount of time is ever going to change that.”
He looked at me with those piercing, blue eyes, and I felt that he could see my soul. “Sophia, I once told you that I believed we’d known each other forever. I still truly feel that we were destined to be part of one another’s lives. I cannot deny that I love you. I’ll probably always love you. But, I don’t believe that love, by itself, is enough. You said those same words at the Royal that last night. I can’t believe I’m saying them now. In many ways, Sophia, you’re still a child. Still believing that love conquers all. You were right that night at the Thames Room, though you didn’t really mean what you were saying. Life isn’t so romantic. Love does not conquer all. I simply don’t intend to start something anew with you. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”
I was terribly wounded. Openly weeping again, I cried out to him. “Why do you want to be unhappy? Why? Perhaps I am still a child, but I know one thing with absolute certainty. It doesn’t matter who is right and who is wrong. What matters is who lets go of the anger first. No, I don’t believe that love conquers all. But, I’m certain that when two people love each other, they can work through just about anything. I made a mistake, Spence, and in spite of your calm, reasonable words, I think you’re still harboring anger towards me. Now it’s you who are making a mistake. I think you’re punishing me for being such a little nit, and if that’s the case then there is nothing...nothing at all... that I can do about it.” There was silence in the room, and I could hear him breathing. The embers in the fireplace were dying, and the wind outside on Sumner Street caused a branch to brush against the window pane. I was praying that he would take me into his arms again. But, then, he spoke.
“I don’t want to be unhappy, Sophia and I’m not punishing you. Please believe that. Nevertheless, an awfully lot has happened. I’m sorry, but I can’t shrug it all off. The timing is all wrong.” He cupped my chin in his hand, and tipped my face up toward his. “Pray for me and keep your optimism. This isn’t the last time we’ll see one another. God willing, we’ll meet again.” He kissed me... A long, lingering kiss, filled with passion and longing... a kiss to last a lifetime, as it seemed too many in our lives had already been.
“Spence, I’ll pray for you every night,” I sobbed. May I write to you? Wouldn’t you at least like to have news of Isabella?”
“Of course, I would. I want news of you too. I won’t promise I’ll have much time to answer your letters, but I’ll try. You’re so young and beautiful, and we live in a tumultuous world. If you can find someone whom you feel will be good to you... will be good to Isabella… then give him your love. I’m not in a position to deal with a love relationship now.” His words were cold and harsh, and I was wounded to my core. I also didn’t believe him. But, I refused to continue making a fool of myself. If he didn’t want me, then I had no choice but to accept that as fact. Or pretend that I did.
“Now, I really must go. I’ve a long day tomorrow. Actually, today,” he smiled. “I didn’t plan on being here tonight at all, let alone so terribly late. I’ll post you as soon as I reach Duxford, and send my address. I need you to be strong for Isabella.” I took a deep breath. He was right. I did need to be strong. Those of us who were left behind would have to keep a stiff upper lip for those who were defending us.
“I’ll be all right, Spence. Please don’t worry about me. Of course I’ll worry for you, but I’ll keep busy. Just take care of yourself.”
He took his coat from the foyer, and pressed the button for the lift. The creaking of the cage as it ascended pierced the silence. When it reached the flat, Spence pulled open the brass grille-work on the door and stepped inside. Then, he turned toward me once more.
“Take care of Isabella.” he said. And he was gone
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
4 September 1939
An Admission
I scarcely slept all of that night. The next morning was one of those inexplicable English days, when the sky was azure blue without a cloud. I rose early and immediately went to Isabella’s room. My daughter was also just waking. I wanted to make certain that the conversation of the previous night had made sense to her, and that there was nothing further I could say to help her understand. Isabella was her usual ebullient self, smiling and sweet. “Do you remember everything that happened last night?” I asked her.
“Yeth I member. Dr. Stanton is my Papa. I have a real, live Papa who loveth me. Can I tell my friendsth? Now I have a wonderful, new Papa, and he ith very handthome and very nithe.”
“Yes, dear, he is all of those things,” I replied. “And, of course you may tell anyone you wish. There will be no more secrets. Mummy is going to tell Grand Mere and Grand Pere Somerville today. They don’t even know yet. Will you mind if I leave you with Martha, while I drive to Willow Grove to tell them our happy news?”
“Will they be ath happy ath me?”
“I don’t know, darling. But, it doesn’t ‘matter, does it? What matters is that your Papa, you and I are very happy, indeed.”
“I don’t mind if you go to tell them. They t
hould know.
“Thank you, baby. I won’t be gone the whole day. Would you like Martha to take you to the park?
“Oh, thank you, Mummy. That would be justh wonderful,” she said, jumping up and down on the balls of her bare feet. I couldn’t help but laugh at her mature vocabulary. Surrounded by adults, she had begun to sound as though she were a miniature grownup, albeit one with a lisp. I’d made the decision to ring my parents and inquire as to a convenient time for a visit. I had no intention of waiting any longer to tell them the truth about Isabella’s paternity. It was part of the vow I’d made to myself... that trust would be reestablished between Spence and me. Whether he wanted me or not, there was no question that the first step was to open the door to the past, and let the sun shine in on our dark, murky history.
I can’t say that I wasn’t a bit nervous when I rang my parents. Mummy, of course, thought I had come to my senses, and was ringing to say that I wished to move back to Willow Grove Abbey for the duration of the war. Clearly, the last thing that my mother envisioned was the announcement I was about to make. I asked if there was a possibility that both of my brothers and their wives might be present too, since I wanted to make the truth known to the entire family in one sweep. It turned out that they’d arranged a trip to see our parents anyway, as plans were being set into motion for Blake and Drew’s enlistments. They undoubtedly wouldn’t be home again for a long spell. Mummy seemed genuinely pleased that I was going to join in the family gathering. I don’t believe she attached any particular significance to my visit.
And so, I arrived at Willow Grove Abbey on a Monday afternoon, having left Isabella in the care of Martha. I’d sold Owen’s Pierce Arrow automobile, and had purchased my own little auto, a 1938 Ford Prefect. I adored the freedom it afforded. Thus, I drove down to the Abbey, enjoying the late summer scenery. Roses were still blooming along the hedgerows, and the rolling land was a soft green, dotted with tiny white fluffs of sheep in the far distance. In such beautiful pastoral surroundings, it seemed impossible to believe that our country was truly at war. My short, tussled curls whipped in the wind, and I breathed in the lovely fresh county air. My spirits were high when I arrived at my beloved family home. I was firmly committed to not allowing anything to deter me from my chosen path. Mummy and Papa both met me in the Great Hall, and they too seemed in a rare, happy mood. Mummy was acting witty and charming, and Papa seemed relaxed as he followed us into the drawing room where cocktails were waiting to be served. My brothers and their wives were already there, seated comfortably on the various sofas scattered about, and I made a round of the room, greeting and kissing each person.
A grand piano dominated one end of the room, covered with Sterling frames which held photos of the family. A Cecil Beaten portrait of the family hung above the fireplace. I remembered being about four years of age when the portrait was commissioned. I’d always felt that my eyes held a sad expression. Annie noticed that I was studying the portrait, and commented upon it. It seemed a lifetime since I’d faced off with my parents in that very room, in the fall of 1935. So much had happened since that beastly day.
“What a handsome family. Sophia. You were such a beautiful child,” Annie said, glancing at me fondly.
“Thank you, Annie. That’s a lovely thing to say,” I murmured.
“Yes, Sophia’s eyes have always been spectacular,” Papa concurred, as he handed me a gin and tonic.
“When the nurses brought her to me after her birth I remember their comments about her long lashes,” added Mummy. How ironical that her words were almost identical to those that were spoken to me about Isabella’s lashes, after her birth. I was taken aback by such uncharacteristic compliments. My mother generally had extreme difficulty praising anyone, let alone me. I seated myself comfortably beside Annie and sipped my drink. At such times I was almost able to delude myself into believing that we Somervilles were a normal family, which was totally daft.
“So, Sophia, we’ve been discussing the ghastly war events. Drew and Blake have just told us that they’re enlisting, but I suppose you already suspected that,” said Papa.
“Yes. We spoke about it yesterday. It’s beastly, isn’t it? But, I can’t help but be proud of them,” I added.
“And what of you, Sophia? Have you had time to make any decisions?”
“Well... yes and no. Quite a lot has happened, actually. That’s one of the reasons that I’m here today. I wanted this chance to talk to the entire family.”
“Have you decided to move back here?” Mummy asked.
“No, I haven’t reached any decision about that yet. I prefer as little change for Isabella as possible. If things become difficult in London, of course, I’ll strongly consider relocating.”
“Then, whatever did you come to speak to the family about?” she questioned.
“I’m not exactly certain where to begin. I need to tell you something that has weighed upon me for a long, long while. It’s been a horrific burden, and a difficult secret for me to keep. It should never have been a secret.” I leaned forward in my chair.
“I daresay you’re confusing us, Sophia,” Papa responded, with a frown.
“Well, to begin with, I need to tell you that Isabella is not... is not... Owen’s child.”
Mummy gasped and put her hand to her breast. “What are you saying? How on earth can she not be Owen’s child?”
“Quite simply, Mummy. I was pregnant before I married Owen. Isabella is Spencer Stanton’s daughter.” I leaned back.
Both of my brothers let out a huge guffaw, and their wives smiled. But, Mummy and Papa looked ashen.
“Spencer Stanton? The Irish-Catholic physician?”
“Yes, Mummy. The man you forbade me to marry. I didn’t’ know when I asked for your permission to marry him that I was expecting his child. When I found out, I would have married him in a heart’s beat, as I loved him so deeply and knew he loved me. But, you’d threatened such beastly reprisals against him, if I went against your wishes that I was terribly afraid for him. I’m not here to chastise you now, but if I’m to explain the facts, then you must understand the ‘whys’ and ‘wherefores.’
“Sophia, had we known about a baby we would most certainly have viewed the situation in a different light,” said Papa.
“Perhaps, Papa. But, I was afraid to take that chance. I was terribly frightened that you would send me away somewhere, and force me to adopt the baby out. I could never, ever have done such a thing. Mummy made it very clear that she would never accept Spence into this family”
“Well. He is, after all, Catholic and Irish... and hasn’t a thing to offer you,” she retorted.
“Except love,” Drew interjected.
Pamela whirled around and glared at her son.. “Well, love is not enough. Nigel and I did not feel that Doctor Stanton was a proper choice for Sophia.”
“I suppose Owen was?” Blake asked.
“He seemed, at the time, to be a much better choice. Did Owen know the truth about Isabella?” Mummy asked, turning back to me.
“No, Mummy. He didn’t when I married him. It was wrong of me, I know. But, I did tell him later. When he confessed that he was homosexual, the truth was told about everything. I don’t have any ill will towards Owen, and he had none towards me.”
“You have no ill will towards him? Have you lost your mind? Look what he did to your life? Didn’t he care what people would think? He went and killed himself.” She picked up a framed photo of Owen in his riding habit. Studying it for a moment, she continued; “Look at his mouth. I can always tell from the mouth. I should have paid attention to it. Well, he didn’t’ get away with it, did he?” She threw the photo down, and the glass shattered.
“Mummy, calm down. I mean it. I am going to leave and return to London, and I’ll not come back if you’re going to continue in a tirade,” I said, shocking myself with such courage. To my amazement, Mummy did calm down. Perhaps Spence had been correct, about taking a firm upper hand with her.
&n
bsp; “No, I do not have any ill feelings towards Owen, and if I honestly look at what he did to my life, his largesse made it possible for me to be truly independent.”
“Continue with what you were telling us,” said Papa, trying to avoid any new confrontation.
“Right. Well, Edwina helped me. I went to Paris and had Isabella. She was actually born in August, but we waited and told you that she was born in September.”
“My God! I never even suspected, and I don’t believe any of us did.” Papa looked round the room at the gathering of faces.
“No. I did notice the lack of resemblance to any of the Winnboroughs, but I simply thought that Isabella was a Somerville, through and through. Now that I think of it, from what I recall of Dr. Stanton, she does seem to resemble him,” Mummy mused. I only saw him once, when he attended your debut Ball, and came through the receiving line, but it would be hard to forget him.” I was truly amazed that my parents seemed to be handling the news so well, and except for the one, brief episode, I’d not seen signs of rage. I felt that my brothers and their wives’ presence helped enormously.
“Does Spence know the truth?” Blake asked.
“Yes, he does now. He didn’t for the longest time. I’d made the decision not to ever tell him. He seemed to have gone forward with his life, and I saw no reason to interrupt that. I still cared for him, but thought he’d forgotten all about me. However, things changed last spring. I saw him again, quite by accident. We talked at length. It’s taken much longer than it should have, but he finally knows that Isabella is his daughter. More importantly, Isabella knows the truth. I’m greatly relieved, and Spence is deliriously happy. Isabella is thrilled, as well.”
“Good show, Sophia!” shouted Drew.
“Sophia, that is really splendid, added Annie. “I always knew you never stopped caring for Spence.”
Willow Grove Abbey: A Historical World War II Romance Novel (The Somerville Trilogy) Page 27