A Fire Sparkling

by MacLean, Julianne

  “This means a great deal to me,” he said.

  “Good,” his father replied with a note of finality. “Now take it and go to Wentworth House. Make this right, Theodore, while there’s still time. The longer you wait, the less likely she’ll be to forgive you.”

  Theodore closed the box. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Father.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I wish to give this ring to another—the woman I intend to marry.”

  His father’s eyes flashed with fury. “I beg your pardon? There’s someone else? Who is she? Tell me.”

  Hands at his sides, Theodore spoke directly. “Her name is Vivian Hughes. She works at the Ministry of Supply, and she is a gifted singer. I proposed to her earlier today, actually, and we plan to marry as soon as possible.”

  Theodore waited several seconds for his father to respond.

  “She works at the ministry, you say.”

  “Yes.”

  “What sort of family does she come from? Who are her parents?”

  Theodore let out a breath, because he knew this was the part that would turn the tide—and turn his father into a raging beast. “Her mother was French, from Bordeaux, but she died a number of years ago, and her father is a wine merchant. He runs a shop in the East End.”

  The earl laid his hand on his chest and sank feebly onto the chair.

  It wasn’t at all what Theodore had expected. He’d witnessed this sort of confrontation many times over the years, whenever Henry was forced to confess some shameful transgression. Their father never sat down. He always charged forward, around the desk. Then there was a sharp slap across the face, followed by another, backhanded, in quick succession. It never went any further than that. Two slaps. Then it ended with Henry being evicted from the room.

  “Theodore . . . ,” the earl implored. “Tell me this is some sort of practical joke.”

  “No,” he replied. “I love her, and I mean to marry her. I hope that you will accept her because she is a good woman. I’m sure that when you are introduced, you will understand why I couldn’t let her go.”

  His father regarded him with horror. “Introduced? No, I will not meet her, nor will I ever accept her. Theodore, you must understand that you were always intended for the duke’s daughter. You have disgraced all of us by acting in a most ungentlemanly manner. I would have expected this from Henry, but not you.”

  “There was never an understanding between Clara and me,” Theodore explained. “I never once suggested to her that we should marry. That was everyone else making plans on our behalf.”

  “Yes! Because you are my son, and you may very well be earl one day.”

  Theodore shook his head. “No. Henry is your eldest son. He is your heir. Not me.”

  His father sat back and scoffed bitterly. “That boy will drink himself into an early grave or end up with a knife in his back in some drunken brawl. He’ll certainly never marry and provide legitimate children. He told me once that he wished to deprive me of an heir, just to spite me.”

  Theodore had very little affection for his wayward brother—they never had anything in common—but in a way, in this moment, he understood Henry’s desire to defy their father. In fact, Henry had taken great pride in becoming the man his father had always said he would become.

  “I’m sorry that Henry has disappointed you,” Theodore said. “But be assured that I have always done my best to behave as a gentleman. For that reason, I fully intend to marry the woman I love. And may I remind you, war is coming our way, Father. Do you not think it’s important that we make the most of our lives and our freedoms? Hitler will enslave all of Europe if we don’t stand up to him. I’ll be damned if I’ll become a slave in my own family.”

  “A slave?” his father shouted. “What sort of nonsense is that? You have a duty to your family and to this country. A duty of honor to uphold our traditions. You cannot simply go off and marry some common strumpet in the pursuit of your own superficial pleasures. And don’t try to tell me that it is something greater than that. You have no doubt been seduced by this woman’s charms, and I suspect it’s no coincidence that you have come to this decision today, when war has just been declared. That is why you are not thinking clearly. Pull yourself together, boy, and recognize that this war will not last forever, and there will come a day, years from now, when you will be glad that you did the responsible thing and married Lady Clara and did not fall victim to temporary passions. Believe me—I know what they are about. But it’s not too late. You can end it with this other woman. I’m sure she’ll understand that it was a moment of insanity on your part. Then you can fix things with Lady Clara.”

  Theodore felt his blood pressure rising. His heart pounded in his ears. “No, Father. I will not end it with Vivian. I love her and I’m going to marry her. I hope you will respect my decision and give us your blessing.”

  The earl rose from the chair and stood tall, unmoving. “I most certainly will not.”

  Theodore’s shoulders tensed. He clenched his hands into fists. “I’m sorry to hear it, but I will not change my mind. She is the woman I want as the mother of my children, and that is all there is to it.”

  His father spoke in a low, sinister voice. “Then you will leave this house and never return. As far as I am concerned, you are no longer my son. If you marry that woman, you will be dead to me.”

  The earl’s words cut Theodore to the quick, for he’d always believed he was his father’s greatest pride. It seemed impossible that he would wish to never see him again. Surely it was his anger talking. The shock of this unexpected news, on the heels of the prime minister’s announcement on the wireless that morning, would soon settle in. Surely his father would change his mind in the morning, or perhaps a week from now, and apologize for his reaction. He would come to understand that Theodore loved Vivian with all his heart, and he would put Theodore’s happiness above their position in society.

  “Get out,” his father said. “I can’t even look at you. Take your belongings and leave this house at once. But be warned—from this day forward, you will have nothing from me. You will no longer receive an allowance, nor will you have the luxury of your car and driver. You will not be welcome in this house, and the servants will not recognize you if you come to the door—unless you come to your senses in the next ten seconds, in which case, all of this will be forgotten.”

  Theodore’s heart beat like a hammer, and it took all his self-control to resist the urge to pick up the whiskey decanter and pitch it across the room.

  Instead, he squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry to hear that, Father. I did not wish for any of this. All I want is to be your son and make you proud, as I have done in the past. But it is too much to ask of me—that I marry a woman I don’t love and give up the woman I wish to share my life with. If you toss me out and wipe your hands of me, then so be it, but I pray that one day you will understand my decision.”

  He turned and walked out and went upstairs to pack a bag, regretting the fact that his family might no longer be a part of his life. Would he ever see his mother again?

  And the ring . . .

  He wished his father had honored him with the gift of that family heirloom. It would have meant the world to him to put that ring on Vivian’s finger.

  Vivian spent the entire afternoon pinching herself. It was without parallel, the strangest day of her life. First, the prime minister had come on the wireless and announced that they were at war. Within moments, she was scrambling down to the cellar to escape German bombers, half expecting to be buried under rubble and not live to see another sunrise. The next thing she knew, she was kissing Theodore Gibbons and agreeing to become his wife.

  As she opened the oven door and breathed in the delectable aroma of a crisp and juicy roasted chicken, she tried not to feel too excited, because this might very well turn out to have been nothing more than a dream—one of those “too good to be true” moments in life. Perhaps Theodore had come to his se
nses and realized that he had acted impulsively because of the shock of the air raid sirens. He might arrive with a sheepish look on his face, full of apologies, asking her to understand that he had gone a little mad.

  While she basted the chicken, she decided that if he felt that way, she would let him go without argument or hurt feelings, make light of it, and go back to feeling grateful for everything he had done for her—the job and the West End flat with two women who had become good friends and the escape from her father’s brutality. Truly, she had nothing to complain about. Even if it went no further than this, he would always be a hero in her eyes.

  Oh, but it was fine and dandy to make such levelheaded plans. In reality, if it turned out that he had changed his mind, she would be devastated beyond repair.

  A knock sounded at the door, and her heart gave a leap as she slid the chicken back into the oven and hurried to answer it. She opened the door, and there he stood—her dream. He was so impossibly handsome in his dark coat and fedora, tilted just so at a captivating angle. She couldn’t think straight.

  He grinned, and she grabbed hold of his arm, pulled him inside, and shut the door behind him. Within seconds, they were locked in a passionate embrace, kissing. She knew in that moment that he had not changed his mind. He seemed more in love with her now than he had been that morning.

  “It smells good in here,” he said when they finally stepped apart, and he removed his hat.

  “I have a chicken roasting in the oven. It’s not quite done yet. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Yes. Anything you have. Wine, whiskey, I don’t care.” He raked his fingers through his hair and collapsed onto the sofa. “It’s been one of those days.”

  Vivian assumed he must be referring to the air raid warnings and his meetings at the House of Commons. At least she hoped so. She couldn’t seem to let go of the fear that he might have changed his mind about asking her to marry him.

  She poured two whiskeys and returned to sit beside him on the sofa. “Is everything all right?”

  He took the glass from her. “Not exactly.” Finally, he met her gaze. “I spoke to my father today, and I told him about my plans to marry you.”

  Here it comes . . .

  “He wasn’t pleased,” Theodore continued. “He had it in his mind that I would marry the Duke of Wentworth’s daughter, and when I told him that would never happen, he threw me out.”

  Vivian frowned. “What do you mean he threw you out?”

  “Told me to leave. Disowned me. Said I was dead to him. So, I collected a few things, walked out, and came straight here by taxi, because I no longer have use of the Bentley.”

  Vivian felt her cheeks go pale. “I’m so sorry, Theodore. I don’t know what to say. I feel terrible. This is all my fault.”

  “No, you’ve done nothing wrong. He’s the one who behaved inexcusably, but I feel I must inform you of my changed circumstances.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Theodore sat up straighter and faced her. “When I proposed to you earlier today, I was the son of an earl. Now I am on my own, cut off from my family, so things may not be exactly as you imagined them.”

  She inclined her head to the side. “How do you think I imagined them?”

  “Well, we would have enjoyed certain luxuries—my monthly allowance, house parties at my family’s country estate. Social connections, what have you.”

  She laughed with disbelief. “I don’t care about any of that. It’s not my world, Theodore.”

  He sat back and laid his head on the sofa, relaxing visibly. “I suppose that’s why I fell in love with you.”

  Vivian slid closer and took his face in her hands. “I’d marry you and be the happiest woman on earth, even if we had to live in a sewer.”

  He kissed her hard, and she relished the moment—but at the same time felt as if she were teetering on a narrow precipice and all her dreams were about to come crashing down on her head.

  She drew back. “I want to be with you, Theodore. More than anything. But I don’t want to be the cause of a rift between you and your family. I couldn’t possibly live with the guilt—knowing you gave up everything for me.”

  “What I’m giving up cannot hold a candle to what I am gaining. You’re all I want. If I died tomorrow, I would die a happy man. So please do not think you are causing me to be deprived in any way. I would only be deprived if I had to give you up. A thousand Bentleys and a lifetime of country house parties couldn’t make me happy if you weren’t my wife.”

  “It’s not just the parties and the Bentleys. It’s your family. Will you ever get to see them? What about your mother? I know you care for her.”

  “And what about your family?” he replied. “You haven’t spoken to your father in months. Is that any different?”

  “But he abused me.”

  “And my father abuses me,” Theodore replied bitterly, “with the sacrifices he demands.” He pulled her close and rested his forehead upon hers. “But I’d sacrifice anything for you. Even my own life. Maybe that’s what real love is. I never really knew it before you.”

  He began to kiss her, and her body grew warm with pleasure.

  “I promise we won’t be destitute,” he told her. “I have my own savings and my salary from the ministry. We’ll get a house somewhere and live like normal people, and our children will be free to do what they want with their lives. They can marry whomever they wish.”

  She ran her hands across his shoulders and down to his chest. “That sounds like a dream, Theodore. We’re going to be very happy. I know we will.”

  The following morning, Theodore rose from Vivian’s bed to open the blackout curtains so that they could watch the sunrise together. When he slid back into the warmth of her arms, she ran the tip of her finger across his bare chest. “I don’t care what happens,” she said. “I’ll never regret asking you to stay last night.”

  He looked at her with concern. “What do you mean you don’t care what happens? I’m not going to change my mind. As far as I’m concerned, you’re already my wife. So, don’t think about regrets. I love you, and we’re going to be with each other until we draw our last breaths. I promise you that.”

  She rested her cheek on his chest. “It’s hard for me, I suppose, to imagine that everything will work out. It never has before.”

  “It will this time,” he assured her as he laid a soft kiss on her forehead. “As soon as I find a house for us, we’ll get married. It shouldn’t take long.”

  She leaned up on an elbow. “I’d marry you today if we could, but there is one thing . . .”

  He regarded her with some unease. “Yes?”

  “It’s nothing bad. Just . . . my sister. I would like for her to be there when we marry. She’s the only family I have left besides my father, and I’m not sure I want him there.”

  “You mentioned she went to France.”

  “Yes. I just wrote a letter to her, but it may take some time to reach her, especially now that we are at war.” She lay down again and snuggled close. “The truth is I haven’t heard from her in a long time. We didn’t part under the best of circumstances, which was unusual for us, because we were always close.”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Vivian rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, not sure where to begin. “She was always the adventurous one—the one who would get us into trouble if I wasn’t there to put a stop to it. She would climb to the very top of the tallest tree in the park while I stayed on the bottom limb, pleading with her to be careful and come back down. She never seemed to grasp the concept of risk or consequences. She just did what she wanted, and when she decided to leave for France, I’d had enough of it, especially because it meant that I would be left behind to deal with Father alone. She said it was my choice to let that happen, and it was the worst fight we’ve ever had. I’ve been angry with her ever since, until you came into my life and convinced me to leave the shop. When I finally did, I started to think that may
be she was the smart one all along. Maybe I should have listened to her.”

  “But if you had, I would never have met you.”

  Vivian rolled to face him again. “I want her beside me on our wedding day, and I’m worried about her in France, now that Hitler is on the move.”

  Theodore stroked her shoulder. “If it’s important to you, then we’ll wait until you hear from her. But I agree. It may not be safe for her in France right now. It would be best if she came home.”

  Vivian’s belly churned with fear at this confirmation—that her sister could be in danger if she remained in France. Vivian hoped she would hear from her soon.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Two weeks passed, and Vivian did not receive any letters from France. She tried to be patient, but it wasn’t easy—not only because she was worried about her sister abroad, but also because Theodore had found a house to let. It was a tall, narrow Georgian town house on Craven Street, built of brick with a black-painted front door and flower boxes under the windows. It was conveniently close to the government building that housed the Ministry of Supply, as well as the Embankment Underground station. He had already moved in and was eager to meet Vivian at the courthouse and make things official so that they could begin their new life together.

  But it wasn’t possible yet. She still wanted to wait to hear from her sister.

  The blackout regulations didn’t help matters. All the theaters and cinemas were closed, so there was little to do for distraction while they waited, and in any case, it was a risk to one’s own safety to venture outside at night when the city was bathed in darkness. She had twisted her ankle on the uneven cobblestones a few days after the blackout began and had been limping ever since. Now, the government was recommending that everyone wear something light colored at night, even a white flower corsage or a handkerchief in a pocket, to be visible to cars and trollies that had blue shades dimming their headlights.