“All right. I’m going to have to tell Chloe the truth about Sloan and me, but that’s another thing I want Violette’s advice about. I want to do it in a way that will cause Chloe the least amount of pain.”
“I know that, Elise. Now come, I’ll drive you to the station. Then, I’ll stop and wire Violette your time of arrival. I’ll be back home by the time Chloe returns from school. Everything will be fine. Just make sure to let me know when you’re coming back.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
They sat in Elise’s old room at Maison de Violette. Elise had arrived just after five o’clock, and Violette had met her at the station. They stopped for a bite to eat at a small bistro and walked to the familiar, lavender house. Violette had prepared Elise’s room with lovely fresh linens, and the bed was turned back. Most of the girls in the house were either out, or sleeping, so there was no great fuss about her return. Neither Elise nor Violette had brought up the reason for such a spur-of-the-moment visit, but now that they were in a private, comfortable setting, it was time for a long chat.
“So, Elise. Tell me what this is all about. Of course, you know I’m happy that you’ve visited. But I know you well enough and, from the tone of your wire, there is obviously something amiss. I’m fairly up-to-date on happenings in your life – your love for Sloan Thornton – the engagement – the wedding plans. Something has gone awry. Am I right, Mon Cherie?
“Yes. You’re right. How perceptive you are.”
“Elise, I’d have to be a nit-wit not to have figured this out. What has happened?”
Elise burst into tears. Violette let her sob for a bit, before asking any more questions. She put her arms around Elise, holding her as a mother would, patting her on the back and murmuring soothing words. Finally, when Elise seemed to have reached a place where no more tears were flowing, at least for the moment, Violette resumed the conversation.
“Whatever happened, it’s come near to breaking your heart. I’ve never seen you in such distress. Please tell me, Elise, so I can know how to help you.”
Elise started at the beginning and told the entire story. There were many breaks in between, when sobs began again. Violette was patient and didn’t rush her. Occasionally she reached over and patted her hand, or cuddled her. Violette looked extremely angry when Elise reached the part about the words Sloan had spoken, but she made no comment. When Elise was finished, which included having seen Sloan outside of the Western Union Office, she hung her head. More tears streamed down her face. Violette took some time to answer.
“Elise. You have every right to feel the way you do. If you never wanted to see him again, no one could argue. But I’m going to ask you to think sensibly. It’s so easy to let emotions take over at such a time. I don’t want you to make a terrible mistake that you’ll regret for the rest of your life. First, let me ask you this. Do you still love him?”
“I don’t know, Violette. I don’t know. I shouldn’t. How can I love a man who would believe such things about me, without even letting me tell my side of the story?”
“Oh, you could, my dear, you could. And it wouldn’t be unusual or wrong. Life isn’t a fairytale. You know that. People love one another; hurt one another. It’s much easier to be hurt by someone you love than by a stranger. You care what someone you love thinks of you. So, I’m not a bit surprised to hear that you very well may still love him. I think you probably do. I don’t believe there would be so many tears, if he meant nothing to you.”
“You’re probably right. But how could I ever forgive him? He says he’s dreadfully sorry. He knows the way he acted was disgusting. But, how could I ever trust him again?”
“The answer to that is easy. You could trust him again because he has told you that he loves you, and that he knows what he did was wrong. Are you telling me you don’t believe people make terrible mistakes in life?”
“No. You know I’m not like that. But I can’t imagine a man who supposedly loves a woman, saying such heartbreaking things, let alone believing such rubbish about his future wife.”
“Elise, you know how much I love you. One of the reasons that’s true is because you’re still such an innocent. Love doesn’t always bring out the best in people. Love can also bring out the worst. Emotions are sensitive things. They’re also volatile. If one can feel incredible passion with their lover, one can also feel the opposite. Love wouldn’t be love if emotions didn’t rise and fall. That’s why marriage isn’t necessarily an easy thing. They, who think it is, aren’t very clear about what it means to put your heart into another’s hands. Elise, I’m going to tell you a story that I’ve never shared with another soul. But, I think it might help you to see this situation more clearly.”
“All right. You know I’ll keep it confidential. I can’t imagine that there’s anything I don’t know about you. You’ve always been so open with me.”
“I have been, but this is something I never thought would be important.”
“Please tell me,” Elise implored.
“After my husband and son died, remember I told you I went to London, and because of depression and lack of caring about anything in the world, I involved myself in this business?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Well, I left out one part of the story. I wasn’t a full participant, yet. The person I worked for was the head of what would be known today as an escort service. Gentleman paid us to accompany them to upscale events. It was rather like the venture that Giselle was involved with in Paris. Only, because it was at an earlier time in our history, there truly wasn’t any inappropriate behavior between clients and working girls. Remember, it was 1920. I was a beautiful girl in those days...”
“You’re still a beautiful woman,” Elise interrupted.
“Yes, well, I was only in my early twenties then. Our clients weren’t men on the prowl, looking for sexual partners. The vast majority were aristocratic gentlemen. Or, widowers, who didn’t want a woman to misinterpret their intentions and start pressuring them for marriage. Often, the men were homosexuals. You know, they’re still treated badly today. Back then, it was fearsome. They often needed a woman to accompany them to fancy balls and the like, especially during the Season, and our service fit the bill perfectly. It was all understood upfront. There was no concern on their part about marriage-minded mothers. I actually enjoyed the work. There was nothing seedy about it. We dressed in lovely gowns and were taken to elegant places. Seldom did anyone know we weren’t part of the crème de la crème.
Then, of all things, I fell in love. I’d never dreamed I could feel that way again, after the heartache I’d suffered when I lost my husband. The gentleman was extraordinarily decent and fine. A nobleman. He wasn’t a client. He was visiting his cousin in London. His home was in the Midlands. His cousin was a friend of mine. She was in not connected with my work – had no idea what I did. She rang and asked if I might like to accompany him to a debut ball at a country house. I saw no reason to reject the offer. I knew the girl whose debut it was. His cousin told me that he hated attending that sort of event without an escort. In other words, it was what would be called a ‘blind date’ in today’s world. I wasn’t the least concerned about it. After all, I’d been in many similar situations, except that the person escorting me knew it was a business arrangement. His name was Alan Bryant - Lord Alan Bryant. He was a young earl, who’d just inherited his father’s estate. When I met him, face-to-face, I was bowled over. He was extraordinarily handsome, sophisticated, and refined. Yet, he was also thoughtful and considerate – very down-to-earth. As much as I’d adored my husband, I have to admit that I was even more taken by Alan. Of course, he knew nothing of my employment status. He just assumed I was the dear friend of his cousin – which I was. We met, and it seemed like we’d known one another forever. We got on famously.
The ball we attended was like something out of a storybook. It was a gorgeous summer night, the house was filled with flowers of every colour and kind, and I wore a splendid gown. I could
tell, as the night proceeded, that he liked me. Although I really didn’t believe in such things, it was honestly love at first sight. Nothing inappropriate happened. We were just two young people, who were very attracted to each other. After that, he asked me to walk out with him many, many times. I was so in love. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I began to believe that all of the heartache I’d endured had been preparation for the lovely thing that was happening to me. He spoke of marriage, and of course, I would have walked down the aisle with him the next day. He knew I was a widow, and it didn’t matter to him. We were very close to announcing our engagement.
During that period, I continued to act as an escort, since I had no other means of making a living, and it was important that I always dress beautifully and look the part of a lady who could become a countess. That part of my life never interfered with the other part. It was as though I lived two separate lives. I knew the places where I might be likely to run into him and avoided them like the plague. Never once did that happen. Nor did I ever see anyone who knew him. That is, until one night when my escort was a gentleman who was also from the Midlands. He was older and a very decent sort, but no one in whom I would have been interested in. He took me to dinner at a lovely restaurant, following a stage play. While dining, he mentioned Alan’s country house – Over Hill Manor. Apparently he lived very near there. That worried me a bit. Of course, he knew I was an escort. While there was nothing unseemly about my behavior, you can imagine that it wasn’t the ‘done thing’ among noble people. I certainly didn’t want Alan to know. But what was I to do? Tell the man the truth and confess my fears? Tell Alan the truth? Hope that he didn’t find out until after we’d married, or preferably never? All of those options ran through my head. I chose the last. I definitely swore that I’d never see Timothy again – the elderly gentleman - and prayed Alan wouldn’t find out. I would have quit the escort business at once, but I had nowhere to go. Because of the excellent money I made, I lived in a smart flat in Belgravia and dressed in the finest Paris-designed clothing. If I left the business, I don’t think I would have had enough money to pay for a lowly bed-sit in West Ham. More than half of my gowns were on loan from the service.
Well, to make a long story short, Alan did find out. He ran into Timothy at some event or other, and when they chatted about London, Alan told him he’d met a lovely lady in London. He told Timothy my name. Timothy hadn’t intended saying anything about the fact that I was a hired escort, but once he learned that Alan was serious about me, he felt he owed it to him to be honest. Alan was flabbergasted. And so began a scene similar to that which you’ve described with Sloan Thornton. He felt he’d been duped. I suppose he had been, but I hadn’t known how to cope with it. He said horrible, foul things to me. He had a right. Everything he said was true, except that I hadn’t done anything so terribly wrong. He was under the impression that women who did such work were prostitutes. I tried to explain, to no avail. He left me with a broken heart.”
“Was that the end of it, then?”
“No. I went to his cousin, my friend. I explained everything, and while she was horrified at my confession, she wasn’t disgusted with me. She was a woman, after all, and women understand these things better than men - righteous prigs that they are. She went to him and told him my entire story. He understood, after listening at length. He was ready to forgive me. But, fool that I was, I wouldn’t allow my pride to accept his forgiveness. I thought he should apologize for the things he’d said, and the way he’d behaved. So, instead of reconciliation, there was another row. That time, I said terrible things to him. I won’t go into all of it. Suffice it to say that what I said was enough to kill whatever feelings he had for me. That was truly the end. I threw my life and happiness away for pride. After that, I did become a full-fledged prostitute. I didn’t have to. But, I was angry and saw it as a way of throwing his words back in his face. I was a fool.”
Elise was weeping by that time. It was a miserable tale, and it hit all too close to home. Instead of finding the solution to her problems, she was even more confused. Violette asked her one more question.
“Elise, are you trying to punish him for hurting you, and is your pride overriding common sense? If you truly don’t believe you could ever trust him again, then I don’t think there’s a future for the two of you. But, if you aren’t being honest with yourself –well – perhaps you need to re-evaluate.”
Violette stood and kissed Elise on both cheeks.
“Sleep, Mon Cherie. A good night’s sleep can do wonders. I want you to be happy. You know I’ll be on your side, no matter what. But I don’t want to see you throw away happiness with both hands, like I did.”
***
Elise was still at Maison de Violette two weeks later. She’d thought and thought about what Violette had said. She had finally come to the conclusion that, if she were very honest with herself, pride was the primary obstacle to a reconciliation with Sloan. She was sitting at the writing desk in her private rooms. There was a knock on the door. Knowing it was undoubtedly Violette, she didn’t even turn around. She just called softly, “Come in.” The door opened and she continued to write.
Without glancing up, she said, “I’m writing a letter to my brother, Josef. I’ve just finished one to Chloe. I’ve told them both that I’ll be retuning soon. I know Chloe is anxious about me, and I miss her. I miss Josef too. I’ve reached the conclusion that my pride has been standing in the way of listening to Sloan. What’s more, when I really think about it, isn’t what I accused Sloan of doing to me, the same thing that I’m doing to him? Not allowing him to explain. I’ve been wrong. I pray I haven’t lost him. I know that my love for him was very real. It still is. I need to go home and speak to him. We can work this out. It was a horrible misunderstanding. Just like what happened to you. I love him, Violette. I don’t want to lose him.”
“Elise, you’re a very wise lady. I prayed you’d come to the right decision, and you have. You will be the most beautiful bride that Thornton-on-Sea has ever seen.”
It was Sloan’s voice. Elise jumped and overturned a bottle of ink. It spilled all down the front of her rose-coloured dress. Wheeling around, she stood there, stunned. She and Sloan stared at each other for a moment.
“Who do you think should make the first move?” he smiled.
“You, of course,” she answered. “But if you’re adamant about not doing so, I shall.” She smiled back.
He walked toward her. “I love you with all of my heart and soul. Forgive me for doubting you. It will never happen again. Never.”
She met him half way. “Forgive me, Sloan. We were both wrong. I do believe you’re my soulmate. Soulmates need to be together. One can’t be whole without their other half.”
They came together in each other’s arms, and suddenly all was forgiven.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
On the train back to Thornton-on-Sea, Sloan and Elise were seldom quiet. She wanted to know how he’d learned where she was, and why he’d decided to come to her. Sloan explained that it had actually been by accident. He’d run into Josef in the village and asked him to have an ale at the pub. Josef agreed. While chatting about details concerning the restaurant, an agreement was reached that no matter how things turned out between Sloan and Elise, they’d go forward with Chez Chloe. Josef was a bit worried that reaching such a decision would hurt Elise, but he had to consider his own future. The two had already put money into a building on the High Street and, if Josef backed out, he would lose his portion. Plus, opening his own, top-drawer restaurant was the epitome of a dream. He’d stood up for his sister, told Sloan the truth about everything, and had been very clear about his feelings. That was all he intended to do with regard to their dilemma. It was time for him to move forward with his own future. He and Sloan didn’t need to be the best of friends, in order to be partners in a business arrangement.
While the two were chatting, Sloan asked when he thought they could realistically plan on a Grand Openin
g. Josef answered without thinking.
“When Elise returns from Brighton, I’ll need to sit down and chat with her.”
He could have shot himself for opening his mouth and telling Sloan where she was. Sloan overlooked the slip and simply continued discussing Chez Chloe. But he tucked the tidbit about Brighton into his memory. If she hadn’t returned by the end of the week, he’d go to Brighton. He remembered Anne having told him of Maison de Violette, so he knew exactly where to look, once he reached the seaside resort. It shouldn’t be very hard. Few people visited Brighton in the autumn and winter months, so the town wouldn’t be crowded.
***
Sure enough, he’d found her almost immediately. All he’d had to do was ask at the railroad station. The porter knew who Elise was and spoke fondly of her. Sloan found his way to the lavender house on the beach and was welcomed warmly by Violette. She’d taken him to her office, where they’d chatted for a good hour. By the time she led him to Elise’s room, his head was full of more accolades about Elise than even he had ever uttered. It was obvious that Violette loved her like a daughter. She pronounced, over and over, how sweet and innocent Elise was and told about how emotionally devastated she’d been when she’d arrived in Brighton. Violette made it clear that falling in love wasn’t anywhere near Elise’s horizon when they’d first met. Of course Violette knew what had happened between them. Instead of tearing into him, which she felt like doing, she took a different tactic. She impressed upon Sloan what a wonderful lady Elise was – that she was truly one-of-a-kind. The man who married her would be the most fortunate soul in the world. She enumerated Elise’s good qualities, of which there were a multitude, and practically had him in tears again when he thought about how shabbily he’d treated her. At long last, he was shown to her room and left outside of the door. Elise knew the rest of the story. Thank God for Violette. Her wisdom had brought home, with full force, just how pride might have caused her to lose Sloan forever.
No Regrets: A Novel of Love and Lies in World War II England (The Thornton Trilogy Book 1) Page 22