No matter that Anne had led Sloan to believe she’d accepted his change of feelings. She was every bit as angry as she’d been when she’d received his letter in 1942. She still wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. And she would. She vowed with all of her heart that she would. Anne wasn’t a fool. Sloan wouldn’t know of her wrath. She wouldn’t blow her top, or erupt into a frenzy. She’d remain calm. He’d think she was sweetness personified. But God help him. He would regret what he had done.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After a week with his parents, Sloan left Thornton-on-Sea bound for London, where he planned on refurbishing his wardrobe. He was sick to death of wearing his uniform. He had an appointment with his tailor and reservations at the Grosvenor House Hotel. Then, he would return to his home village and, at long last, contact Elise. The week he’d spent at Highcroft Hall, after seeing Anne and confessing his feelings to his parents, were fraught with turmoil. The celebration that had been planned for his return, with a band and parade, was abruptly cancelled when word reached the Mayor that his engagement to Anne had been broken. Anne strolled about town, acting as though she was perfectly all right, but all of the villagers rightly assumed she was hiding her heartbreak behind a façade of pride. Sloan, when venturing out of Highcroft Hall, was actually spat upon by a number of women, and heads were turned as he walked along the cobblestoned streets. He took to cocooning himself inside the walls of the great estate. Even his parents were looked upon with disdain. Anne’s parents were outraged. He had a visit from her father, Lord Adrian, who threatened to horsewhip Sloan for his abysmal conduct.
Thus, Sloan was glad for the trip to London. For a man who’d only recently returned from the one of the worst wars the world had ever seen, what he was experiencing in his beloved home village was almost as disturbing. He’d never dreamed people he’d known from childhood would turn upon him. He intellectually understood the feelings of villagers, but their actions were emotionally devastating. Sloan prayed Anne would move on with her life. He wondered how long it would take for her to find the partner who’d make her understand that he was right. He could only stay focused on one goal – that of seeing Elise again. As he stood on the station platform, his heart ached for his mother and father. They stood with bowed heads, trying not to show disappointment in him, nor to reveal the pain and heartbreak he had caused. They were at a loss to understand any of it.
“Sloan, darling, please don’t be gone long. It shouldn’t take but a few days to buy the items you need. The tailor will send whatever you order. We’ve been apart for so long. I hate seeing you leave again.”
Lady Celia looked as though she might weep.
“Of course I won’t be gone long, Mother.”
He bent down and kissed her. She seemed to have grown frailer during the short time he’d been home. She was such a kind lady, and he’d never heard her speak a harsh word about another human being. Perhaps he’d modeled his soulmate upon Lady Celia. A striking beauty as a girl, she was still uncommonly attractive. In her fifties now, her golden hair streaked with silver, and lines showing the anxiety she’d experienced through two world wars, her eyes were still as blue as a young maiden’s. She was the epitome of a genteel lady.
Sloan turned to his father – the man whom he idolized beyond all others. He was the height of gentility, and Sloan could think of nothing the man had ever done, in his lifetime, that might have brought shame upon the family. He was the same height as his son, and there wasn’t an inch of excess weight anywhere on his body. Anyone who had ever met Rowan Thornton knew he was a man of honour. Sloan was chagrined at the disgrace he’d brought upon the family name and the way he’d let his parents down.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I know I’ve caused you and Mother distress. I’d do just about anything not to have done so. But I cannot marry a woman I don’t love, simply to please others. The mistake lies with the fact that I ever asked Anne to marry me. I was too young and naïve. None of us had any idea how many years the war would last, or of the changes I’d undergo. Surely you understand the impossibility of going through such a deplorable experience without coming away changed. I’m not the same person.”
“I know that, Son. I wasn’t the same when I returned from France in the Great War. Fortunately, I hadn’t stopped loving Celia. But, we were already married, and there was never a question as to whether I loved her. I don’t blame you for feelings you can’t change. The world is a strange place. People like a cause. This village is no different. There are probably many men living here who wish they hadn’t acted hastily and wed women whom they later realized weren’t meant for them. Society’s attitude seems to be that if they can do such a thing, so can you. I’ve had time to sort this through. You’re entitled to a good life. Go and find it. Your mother and I love you. It’s not for others to tell you what they think you should do.”
“Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Dad. I absolutely promise that what I’m doing isn’t a whim, nor a fruitless effort to make fantasy into reality. I’m very certain about my feelings. I know what I’m doing, and your support means the world me.”
He shook his father’s hand and clasped him to his chest. It was unusual behavior for both of them, since they were generally rather reserved when it came to a show of affection.
“You and Mother have met Elise. You’ve told me you think she’s lovely. Can it be surprising that I’d be in love with her?”
“No, not at all. It’s just the way it seems to have happened, and the fact that you don’t really know her.”
“That will be rectified,” Sloan smiled.
The train chugged into the station, and he gathered his belongings. He had one bag with uniforms and another empty one. It was meant to accommodate purchases he’d make in London. Kissing his mother one last time, he boarded and readied himself for the journey.
***
Upon arrival in London, Sloan settled into his hotel room. Then, he decided to pay a visit to his club, which he hadn’t seen in years. He had no idea whether there would be even one soul whom he might know. No matter. It was a quiet place to escape the crowds of the city, enjoy a drink, and do some reading.
He didn’t recognise anybody. Sloan ordered a neat Scotch and found a quiet corner next to the bookshelves. Sorting through the extensive collection of leather bound tomes, he extracted a volume of Dostoevsky. It was heavy reading. But, he’d made a firm resolve, during the war, to plough his way through all of the classic literature he’d only skimmed while at university. It was hard going in the beginning, but before long he found himself engrossed in the writing. Thus, he was startled when someone tapped his shoulder. He glanced up, and to his great surprise, saw a close friend from Oxford, who’d also recently returned from duties as an officer in the war.
“Sloan Thornton! Great to see you, old boy. What are you doing in London? I figured you’d be luxuriating back at your family’s estate,” Elliott Woodbridge exclaimed.
“Elliott! I can’t believe it’s really you. When did we last speak? Surely, it was before the war. I’ve been to Thornton on-Sea already. I’m in London to order new clothing. Nothing in my cupboard at home fits. How about you?”
“London is home now. I’ve joined my father’s firm of solicitors. It was always the plan. I understand about the wardrobe. I went through the same thing. I wish I could join you for a drink, but I’m just on the way back to my office. It’s wonderful to see an old friend. Where were you during the war?”
“I was in North Africa for quite a spell after Dunkirk. Did you know I was RAF? Then, later I was in Italy. I didn’t get home for the entire duration.”
“I was BEF. I was all over the place. The last was the Battle of the Bulge. Bloody awful situation wasn’t it? The whole muddle, I mean.”
“Quite. I had some narrow scrapes. I imagine you did too. I feel fortunate to be in one piece. I’m appalled at the condition of London, especially the East End.”
“I’ve spoken to some of the
boys who fought during the Blitz. God, what a job they did.”
“Yes,” Sloan replied. “I knew fellows who were in that fight. I almost wish I had been. They were the real heroes.”
“As well as those who fought on D-day,” answered Elliott.”
“I was one of those,” answered Sloan. “That was my last stand. Bloody horrible. Thank God for the Americans.”
“Absolutely,” Elliott replied. “Weren’t you supposed to be getting married when the war ended? That’s the last news I had of you.”
“Ah yes - well, that’s a long tale. I’m no longer engaged, and the wrath of God has befallen me. The girl’s father has threatened to horsewhip me.”
“’E Gads! Is that why you’ve escaped to London?”
“Partly, to be honest. People who pass me on the street have actually spat upon me. I’m the world’s most despicable scoundrel for releasing her from the engagement. But I couldn’t do it, Elliott. The war made an enormous difference in my thinking. I realized I wasn’t in love with her in the proper way. I think of her as a sister – she was a childhood playmate, after all.”
“I haven’t been to the altar yet, either. But I’ve never even made it as far as a proposal. From what you’re saying, it’s a damned good thing I didn’t. So, we’re both free. Why don’t we make the rounds in London and see what we’ve been missing?”
Elliott was a very good-looking chap. He’d always been able to nab any girl he set his sights on. Yet, he was a decent sort. To Sloan’s knowledge, Elliott had never taken advantage of his outstanding appearance. The two hadn’t been extremely close friends at Oxford, but were more than simple passing acquaintances, too. Everyone had known who Elliott was.
“Thanks for the invitation to do the town, but I don’t feel in the mood. I’d love to get-together again though – perhaps for dinner. I’ll be here a week. I’m at the Grosvenor House. Ring me, and we can set a time.”
“I’ll do that, Sloan. I have to rush back to my office now. I just popped round for lunch. I can’t tell you how terrific it was to run into you. I’ll surely give you a ring and see you soon.”
They said their goodbyes, and Elliott left. Sloan went back to reading his book, looking forward to a lengthy conversation with an old chum. He wasn’t sure whether he would tell Elliott the full story of his quest for Elise, but he suspected it might be good to talk it over with someone his own age.
***
Sloan and Elliott did meet a few nights later, at a pub they’d both enjoyed as far back as undergraduate days. Sloan did go through his entire story, from the moment he’d met Elise to the present.
Elliott didn’t react as though he thought Sloan had lost his mind. In fact, his response was the complete opposite. He told Sloan that he shared his beliefs about soulmates.
“That’s one reason I’ve never come close to marrying. It has to be right, and it never has been. I’ve met some wonderful, charming girls. Pretty, nice and bright. But something has always been missing. It’s interesting to be having this conversation. I wonder how many other chaps feel this way, but never say it aloud? Probably more than anyone suspects.”
“I’ve never thought of that, but I’d bet you’re right. People seem to grow uncomfortable with the subject. I don’t know why. Perhaps men aren’t supposed to fantasize. It seems to me all women dream of soulmates. But, those I’ve known seem to believe that every man they meet is their soulmate. I think that’s the way Anne felt. I’m positive I wasn’t the right man for her. But, until she finds someone else, she’ll never believe that.”
“What a shame. She’s wasting her life. The correct man could be right in front of her eyes.”
“What sort of girl are you searching for Elliott? Do you have a picture in your mind of what she’d be like?”
“Certainly. Of course, she’ll be attractive. At least to me. I prefer brunettes – sultry, spunky, and sexy – you know the type. I’m not so worried about whether she’s aristocratic. But, I do want a lady. Do you understand?”
“Of course. Many ladies aren’t aristocrats. Elise isn’t an aristocrat, but she’s certainly a lady.”
“Exactly,” Elliott responded. “But I like a woman with gumption. You know, someone who can match me in an intelligent conversation. I can’t abide a simpering fool.” He laughed aloud.
“I’m not as keen on the intelligence aspect,” Sloan replied. “Not that I want a dunce,” he smiled. “But sometimes very intelligent women cause me discomfort. You were always more confrontational, if I remember. Weren’t you on the debate team at Oxford?”
“Yes. I like a good give-and-take of ideas. So much the better if it could be with my life’s partner. But I also look for kindness and empathy. Loyalty, of course. Charm, wit, grace – I’m looking for a lot, aren’t I?”
“Aren’t we both? I guess the only difference between us, aside from the descriptions we give of our imagined soulmates, is that I firmly believe I’ve found mine.”
“Tell me about her. You’ve given me details about how you came upon each other, but what’s so extraordinary about her to convince you of her certain place in your life?”
Sloan rummaged around in his breast pocket, and produced the pitifully worn photo of Elise. He laid it on the table in front of them. “Naturally, her appearance plays a part. All of my life, I had a notion of what the lady, who God intended for me to fall in love with, would be like. I’ve literally seen her in my dreams. When I first set eyes on Elise, I thought I was dreaming. She so perfectly matches the woman I’ve seen in my imaginings. She’s breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking. Lovely masses of golden curls spill down to her shoulders and beyond; she has picture-perfect features, and a face like an angel. One almost expects a halo. She has eyes that defy description. Bluer than the bluest sea, yet fringed with the longest, darkest lashes I’ve ever seen. Lips that are the colour of a beautiful baby’s mouth, or the softest, pink rosebud. Well, you can see from the photo.”
“My God, Sloan, are you certain she’s real. She really is magnificent. How long have you had this picture? It looks like you need a new one.” Elliott laughed.
“Yes. It’s been through five years of war. She gave it to me the day I met her. We only spoke for a short while. Her voice is soft and gentle, with a magical, feminine tone. She’s very articulate, but also meek – not given to use of words that overwhelm or try to impress. There’s an incredibly demure quality about her. One only has to be in her presence to recognize her innocence. There’s not one feature that isn’t graceful and charming. There aren’t words, Elliott – refinement, poise, elegance. None really tell the complete story. From the moment I saw her, she’s been lodged in my heart. I cannot forget her. Call it an obsession if you will. I think there are some people who would. I suspect my parents might use that word. Frankly, I wouldn’t argue. I am obsessed with her. If I don’t win her, I can’t imagine ever finding another woman who would satisfy me.”
“Whew, Sloan. You have it bad. But, I envy you. How incredible it must be to feel that way about someone. I’ve longed for such love. That, to me, is true love. Have you ever studied the history of the soulmate notion?”
“Not really. But, because my life has been so transformed by meeting Elise, I do mean to study whether great minds of the past actually believed such things are possible,” answered Sloan.
“You’ll discover a lot of historical figures who wrote about, and discussed, the concept. As far back as Plato. I’m sure you’re familiar with Edgar Cayce, the fascinating man from Kentucky in America, who went into trances and performed miraculous feats. He believed we’re meant to find our other half in order to be complete. Jewish people have a word – Bashert. It refers to one’s divinely ordained spouse. The Bible, in Genesis, refers to the belief that forty days before a child is born, its mate is determined. It’s a remarkable subject when you honestly study it in depth.”
“My God. I had no idea. I have a lot of studying to do. What you’re saying only solidifies m
y own beliefs. I’m glad we ran into one another and that I opened up to you about what I’m going through.”
“I’m glad too, Sloan. I sincerely hope the reunion with Elise turns out to fulfill your destiny. You’ve whetted my own appetite. After listening to you, I feel I should be doing more to find my own other half. But truthfully, I don’t think that’s the way it works. I think fate brings your soulmate to you, and when she appears, you know it. There doesn’t seem to be any question in your mind, based on the way you’ve described your certainty about Elise. One can’t go gallivanting around the world searching for one person among the masses.”
“Precisely, Elliott. You’ll know, I promise. But, I do think you have to be keenly aware at all times. From my own experience, I can tell you that I felt like I’d been hit over the head. There won’t be any question in your mind, when it happens to you.”
“Let’s drink to your future, old friend. Promise you’ll let me meet her when I visit Thornton-on-Sea.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As soon as he returned to Thornton-on-Sea, Sloan made a beeline to the small, stone cottage near the water. He knew he should have rung Elise to give her warning, but he was afraid she’d put him off. It seemed more promising to simply show up at her door. He was familiar with the whereabouts of her home, since he’d lived in Thornton-on-Sea all of his life, and the cottage had been there as long as he could remember. It was a pretty, early autumn day, and he decided to walk. He’d met Giselle, his mother’s lady’s maid, on that first evening home, and it was likely she’d be at the cottage with Elise, since it was a Monday. Sloan was aware that Monday was a day-off for her. Giselle had only recently returned to her employment, since she’d been caring for her fiancé, a Major in the American Air Force. Sloan knew all about their love story and looked forward to knowing her better. Her fiancé, Major Cabot, was actually living at Highcroft Hall, still recovering from ghastly wounds suffered on D-Day. Sloan had briefly met him, and liked him a lot.
No Regrets: A Novel of Love and Lies in World War II England (The Thornton Trilogy Book 1) Page 14