Willow Grove Abbey (18 page)

“I would do what Owen wanted you to do.
If you renounce him as the father, it will open an entire assortment of problems. Everyone will want to know who the father is, and Owen’s estate could be protested by his parents, if, as you say, he left provisions for you and the baby.”

“But it see
ms so cruel to let his parents think that they have a grandchild... a part of Owen when they don’t. And, I truly don’t care about the money, Edwina.”

“Either way it’s cruel, but Owen chose to do this,
Sophia. I can’t tell you what to do... only what I would do, but then we both know that you’ve always had more integrity than I,” she laughed. In spite of the situation, I couldn’t help but return the laughter. “Oh Edwina, whatever would I do without you?” I said. “At every crisis in my life, you’ve been there for me.”

“Don’t worry; I’
m sure my time will come, dear heart. In the meantime, don’t you need me to come home and help now? Then, you can return to Paris with me, under the guise of needing to get away.”

“That
does
sound wise, Edwina. I would so like to have you here for support. You know that Mummy is going to be beside herself when she learns this.”

“Oh yes, I know that for certain.
Perhaps the Catholic doctor would have been preferable after all,” Edwina said snidely. “I’ll throw a few things in a bag and be on the train tonight. Expect me tomorrow, Luv.” I felt much better after having spoken to her, knowing that I would have her presence during the coming days. Edwina was the only person who knew the entire truth. It helped enormously to know that I would be able to speak honestly now and again. After I concluded my conversation with her, the household was assembled, per my request of Morris. They were all gathered in the main Drawing Room, and I broke the tragic news. There were audible gasps, and many tears. Owen had truly been beloved by those who worked for him. The fact that he was seldom present at
Winnsborough Hall
made the work load much easier for the household staff, as well. I had grown fond of many of them too, and knew that my days at
Winnsborough Hall
would be numbered, although I didn’t make them aware of that. I imagined that his parents would decide to resume their life at their beloved former home. I, in turn, would undoubtedly return to
Willow Grove Abbey
, at least for a time, after the baby was born. As I spoke to each servant, I remembered the day when Owen and I arrived home from our wedding trip, and all of them had gathered outside in the front of the mansion, to welcome their new mistress. We had only been married two weeks then..

When the Duke and D
uchess arrived, Owen Sr. took me into the library, and we had a long chat. I decided, after much deliberation, to be honest about everything. I could only imagine that things would become more and more complex as time went by, if I continued with lies and deception. I believed that the Duke would honor my wishes not to tell Papa and Mummy. I was correct. His acceptance of the truth exceeded my expectations. He only chastised himself for haranguing Owen to marry. He also showed great annoyance toward my parents for not allowing me to marry the man I loved.

“We parents can be su
ch damned fools,” he said.

I couldn’t
argue. “I wish I could be open and honest about this to my
own
parents, but I’m afraid for my baby. I hope you understand. I assume you intend to tell the Duchess?”

“I
am obliged to, Sophia. This is not the sort of secret one keeps from one’s wife. Believe me, she will understand. There will be no problem. She will not tell your parents, if that is your wish. Whatever provisions Owen has chosen to make for you and the child will be perfectly acceptable to us, and if they are not adequate, then I shall make certain that things are made right.” The Duke and Duchess were such dear people, and it was tragic that life had dealt them such a harsh blow. I embraced my father-in-law, and thanked him, giving assurances that I was not interested in any gain from Owen’s death.

The
next few days are still a blur. Everyone arrived at
Winnsborough Hall
, and the staff took over, making them comfortable. I was thrilled to see Edwina when she arrived, assigning her a guest suite adjoining my own rooms. Mummy was surprisingly well behaved, in spite of the fact that Papa chose to tell her the entire truth. I was amazed that knowing of Owen’s homosexuality my mother did not launch into a gargantuan rage. Instead, her primary concern was making certain everyone understood that wedding gifts were
my
property. I could only smile ruefully when I heard her say that. I also imagined that she may have been feeling a tad guilty, since she had been so adamant that I marry Owen in the first place,

The funeral
service was at the small village church near
Winnsborough Hall,
and the burial took place at the family cemetery on the grounds of the home. It was a dreary July morning, with pelting rain, and a dark, threatening sky. Many, many people attended, from all of the surrounding villages. Edwina arrived the evening before, and it was comforting to have someone there who knew all of the details of the past year. She looked stunning. Despite the solemnity of the occasion, I couldn’t help but marvel at her continued blossoming since the move to Paris. She wore a very
au courant
black ensemble, and her platinum hair shone even more lustrously than usual on that grey day. She had let her it grow longer, into a sleek pageboy again, and was wearing more cosmetics. Her lipstick was a very bright red, and rouge heightened her cheekbones. It made her appear more sophisticated... more Parisian.

I
was vastly relieved when the last of the guests departed, and I was able to kick off my shoes, remove my beastly black veil, and have a lie-down. Although most of the world thought I was nearly six months pregnant, in reality, I was nearly eight, and my feet had begun to swell when I stood for long periods. I was not terribly large, so it was easy to maintain the subterfuge. The Solicitor from London, who had been present during the ceremony, requested that Owen’s parents, the servants, other family members and I meet him in the library for a reading of the Will. I dreaded it, but was relieved that my mother was not going to be present. The meeting held no interest for Mummy. She was busily wrapping china. We all filed in, and took seats across from the large desk that had been the Duke’s since time immemorial. The Solicitor, a Mr. Seymour Smyth, made certain that we were comfortably seated before he began. He cleared his throat, and started to read the Will. Most of it was standard form about ‘just payment of debts’ and ‘sound mind’. I let my mind drift. It was hard to think that any of it concerned me. There were numerous bequests to loyal employees and others to Godchildren and friends, as well as to charities. Then, I heard my name. That forced my mind back to matters at hand. It was written in very technical terms, but the upshot was that Owen had left me the flat on Sumner Street in London, as well as a sizable sum of money... more money than I’d ever dreamed of having. I was stunned. He also left me any items of joint ownership that I wished to have from
Winnsborough Hall
, and his
Pierce Arrow
automobile. There was a separate Trust established for the baby, of which I was to be custodian. He had been excessively generous. It was obvious that he
had
visited the Solicitor
the day of his death, as he had said he was going to do. I realized that because of his largesse, I would never again have to return to
Willow Grove Abbey
and the despotism of my mother or the passivity of my father, unless I wished to. Tears streamed down my face, leaving shiny snail’s tracks, as I thought of Owen’s generous spirit, and of a life that had been wasted. He had been a good man, and a kind one. It seemed unfair that he couldn’t simply have lived his life in the sunshine. Later, when I told Edwina of Owen’s generosity, she irreverently said that he owed it to me. I did not agree with her, but we never argued about differing points of view.

As everyone was filing out of the library,
Mr. Smyth asked me to remain a moment. I was puzzled, but of course sat back down, and waited until the room had emptied. “Now then, Lady Sophia, I have a letter here which your deceased husband asked me to give to you, if anything were to happen to him. I have no idea of the contents, and do not need to know them. Of course, when I take into account the date upon which I saw him, and when the provisions for the present Will were made, it is clear that he anticipated his impending demise. But, there is no reason for that to concern me.” He handed me an envelope, which was clearly Owen’s personal stationery, engraved with the Winnsborough Coat of Arms. Mr. Smyth busied himself lighting a cigar, and told me to make myself comfortable. I was to read the letter and if I had questions, Mr. Smyth would try to answer them. I opened the envelope and took out two sheets of the same engraved stationery. It was clearly in Owen’s hand.

Dearest
Sophia,

I know that th
is is not what you expected. I fully intended to come back to Winnsborough Hall, and work out our problems. I walked about London for hours, thinking and thinking .It finally became clear what I must do. I spent the following two days putting my affairs in order. I hope you can forgive me, and I pray that God will forgive me my sins.

You w
ill wonder why I chose this path. Please be assured that it had nothing to do with fear that you would make a laughing stock of me. You are a good, kind, loving lady, and I wish I could have been the sort of man who deserved you. When I thought it all through, it became clear that I have never been happy. The chances of that occurring in the future are remote. I was raised to behave in a moral manner, and the life I prefer is not considered moral. Whether married or not, I would have to go on living my life in the shadows. I am very tired of lies and games.

On the other hand, I
believe that you can and will find happiness. It will be easier to do so as a widow, than as someone whom people whisper about in corners, wondering why your marriage was annulled. You will now be free to go on with your life, and your child will not have to deal with the confusion of having an absentee father. Eventually the child would learn the truth about me, and it could well destroy him or her. If I believed I could be happy, and that you and the child could be equally so, then perhaps I might have reached a different decision. However, I see nothing ahead for me. Please do not feel sorry for me, and don’t blame yourself. I have had a wonderful, full life, in spite of its short duration. I have provided for you, and made you independent of your family. I want you to be happy, and my fondest hope is that someday you will be able to be with the man you truly love.

With Great Respect and Love,

Owen

There was no question that Owen’s letter changed my life. While he told me not to feel guilty, nor to feel sorry for him, it was impossible not to do so. The letter haunted me, and I would have given anything if he had only come to me and talked, as he had pledged. However, in time I had to face the realization that Owen made a choice, and I had no right to question it. He was not delusional. Thus, if what he chose to do was his true desire, then I had to accept it.

The next few
months were surreal. Shortly after the funeral, Edwina and I arrived in Paris. I was dressed in a black linen suit, with a flowing coat, my dark curls tied back with a black and white taffeta ribbon. Edwina was wearing the latest rage... a pajama ensemble, with broad silk pants and matching shirt, falling loosely to her hips. Of course, the look was marvelous on her. We gathered our luggage and hailed a taxicab. “I was surprised that your Mum didn’t give you more difficulty about this trip,” Edwina said, as she rolled down the window to let in some fresh air. It was a very warm summer day. Even though we had been together over the past several days, we’d had scarce time to talk at length, because of the funeral, and my responsibilities as a hostess. I was exhausted and had slept on the train and ferry trip from London to Dover, Dover to Calais and on to Paris, so this was the first real opportunity we’d had to chat.

“
I think both of my parents were just glad to see me go. Mummy shows remarkably little interest in the baby. Didn’t you notice that?”

“
Yes, now that you mention it, I did. Strange. I thought she’d simply want to take over.”

“She just doesn’t see
m very involved.”

“
Perhaps that’s for the best. Certainly in terms of her letting you out of her sight.”

“No question
about that. The next few weeks will be the hardest part of this whole scheme. I don’t think my parents will make any fuss until September nears, but then they’re very likely to grow perturbed when I tell them I’m not returning to England yet.”

“We’ll
deal with that later,” Edwina smiled. “I know this isn’t easy for you,” she said, with a sympathetic expression, patting me on the knee.

“I’
m
terrified
at the prospect of the
birth,” I admitted. “I’ll be so relieved when this is all over.”

“I’ll be here with you every
moment, I promise,” Edwina said, hugging me again. I felt so fortunate to have her beside me during such a time. I certainly could
never
have told my parents the truth, and I could never have gone through all of the manipulation involved in such a scheme, by myself. As it was, I’d been uncomfortable being around my parents ever since announcement of the pregnancy. Mummy was not a fool, and she tended to be quite distrustful and vigilant.
Yes, paranoid
. It would not have surprised me if she had reached the conclusion that I had wanted to marry Owen so quickly because I was pregnant, which was, of course, the truth. Although it had not been discussed, I knew Mummy had never forgotten that only a short while before my marriage to Owen, I’d been desperately in love with Spence. I knew that it was possible my mother might suspect that Spence was the father of my baby. Of course, knowing the truth about Owen, it was equally possible that Mummy blamed the poor baby for having what she would term a ‘
queer’
for a father. That would also explain why she had little interest in her prospective grandchild.

Our
car crept its way through the congested streets of Paris, and finally we arrived in the Ninth Arrondissment, with its narrow streets, lined with tiny galleries, selling ‘about to be discovered’ art works. The area had preserved its nineteenth century architecture, charming courtyards and timeless Parisian air. That was where Edwina lived, as well as where her school was located, on Rue de la Rouchfouchuod. In rather short order we pulled up in front of a building, which had clearly known better days. Still, the neighborhood possessed a certain charm. It was populated with young people, living the quintessential Bohemian existence. We extricated ourselves from the taxicab, and while I paid the driver, Edwina took the baggage, and continued toward the entrance to the building on Rue Blues. The flat was on the fifth floor, with a lift. The building dated to the 1840’s. Once we reached her floor, we were required to walk down a narrow corridor. Edwina maneuvered round, and produced a key ring, which opened the door to the flat.

Upon
entering, I couldn’t help but be amazed at how Edwina’s unique, creative style had brought elegance, and panache to what would normally have been a rather cramped, small living space. There was a living room, two bedrooms and a bath. A balcony overlooked a Louis Philippe style courtyard. The floors were wooden and there was even a small, marble fireplace. It was decorated in black and white, which was unusual, and perhaps daring at that time. There was a feeling of clean, geometric precision in the furnishings, and the only objects’ d’art were crystal. The entire effect was opposite of the Queen Anne and Chippendale that surrounded me at
Willow Grove Abbey
and
Winnsborough Hall.
While it was not what I might have chosen, I rather liked it. It
fit
Edwina’s personality. There were glass shelves on one wall, with mirrors behind, creating an illusion of space. In front of those stood a chrome and glass teacart, where a silver ice bucket rested, along with a cocktail shaker and a variety of crystal glasses.

“I’
m going to have a martini. I’ll fix you up with a smashing glass of milk, my dearest friend,” Edwina exclaimed, with a laugh. She moved to the bar and began to pour gin into a glass.

“How kind,” I
laughed, making a face. “But, never mind, I’m only teasing. My baby is much more important to me than a cocktail. I’ve never had a martini though. Once the baby comes, I really must try one. Remember when we had our first pink gin together?”

Edwina
arched an eyebrow and made a little moue with her mouth. “Such a long time ago, Lady Sophia. I do not believe it was
my
first, but I may have led you to believe so. I’m no longer that ‘
jeune fille’.”

I
laughed again. “Martinis are all the rage in America, aren’t they?”

“And on the Continent.
Everyone in Paris is drinking them. I don’t want to boast, but I’ve been told that I concoct the world’s perfect martini,” she pronounced, airily.

“Ah
... After the baby comes, we’ll toast its arrival,” I smiled.

Edwina
poured a glass of milk from a bottle in the small icebox, and we sat in her tiny parlor. It was good to be away from all of the stress and upheaval of the past weeks. “A boy or a girl?” she asked.

“It doesn’t
matter, as long as the baby is healthy.”

“You do have an actual due date, don’t you?”

“Yes... Oh, yes. August second. It isn’t that far away, Edwina. Have you made arrangements for me to see a physician here?”

“Yes, and he’s supposed to be very fine.
Several people recommended him. He speaks English too. You have an appointment in the morning.”

“Perfect.
I shall feel better when I’ve established myself with a good medical person. This is all a bit overwhelming.” I placed my hand on my enlarged mid-section.

“Of
course it is, Sophia. Nevertheless, everything is prepared. Come, I need to show you where the baby will sleep.” She reached out her hand, and helped me to stand. We walked into one of the three small bedrooms. In the corner was a beautiful bassinet, festooned in white lace. It was exquisite. I was extremely touched that Edwina had gone to such trouble. There was a small table piled with nappies, lotion, and every other necessity one collects in preparation for a birth.

“
Edwina! You’ve thought of everything! How wonderful you are. And so organized.”

“I knew there wouldn’t be
a lot of time after you arrived. I wanted you to be able to relax as much as possible. After all, this has been the most beastly year for you, in so many ways. I do so want this to be a happy event, in spite of the circumstances.”

I
was so choked up, I could scarcely speak, so I simply reached out, put my arms round Edwina, and buried my head on her shoulder. It didn’t take much to make me weep in those days.

***

During the following weeks, I familiarized myself with Edwina’s neighborhood. I did not venture far away from the flat, as I tired easily and had no desire to socialize. Edwina was free from classes for the summer months, so we lazed about, sleeping late and taking our meals at small neighborhood bistros, such as
Au
Petit Cafe
, and
La Petite Ivalides
. I visited the physician, Dr. Dupree once a week, and felt I was in excellent hands. He pronounced that I was in fine health, and predicted an easy birth. My parents rang once weekly, and I reported upon my lovely, restful visit, keeping them unaware of what was really happening. On 5 August, as Edwina and I were sitting in
Au Petit Cafe
finishing a lovely meal, I felt cramping in my lower abdomen. There was no doubt what it was.

“Oh
... Oh my Gosh, Edwina. I think I’m having a labor pain,” I cried.

“Oh
... Oh Goodness, Sophia. Shall I fetch an ambulance?”

“No, no.
However, I think we had better return to your flat. I shall ring Dr. Dupree and tell him what’s happening. He’ll tell me what to do.”

We
immediately returned to Edwina’s flat, and rang the doctor. Thank goodness, there was not a long delay in reaching him. He was very calm, telling me that he wanted me to time the contractions, and to ring him back when my water broke. Edwina told me to have a lie down, which I gladly did. We proceeded to wait. It seemed an interminable length of time, although in reality it was not. Less than two hours later, I felt a rush of wetness and immediately rang Dr. Dupree again. That time he told me to take a taxicab and meet him at hospital. I had prepared a small travel bag ahead of time, so we were able to depart immediately. There was no difficulty finding a taxi, and while I was anxious to get there, it didn’t seem an unduly long ride. By then the pains were much more intense, and I was growing fearful.

Edwina
was a Godsend. She stayed very serene and that, in turn, helped me to keep sane. She checked me in, and the nurse took me by chair to the maternity floor. I was settled into a room, dressed in a white, sterile gown, and the doctor came in. He examined me and said that it would still be awhile. I wanted it to be over at once. However, no matter what I wanted, the baby had its own ideas.

Finally, at three o’clock on the
morning of 6 August 1936, I gave birth to a healthy five pound, three ounce baby girl... ‘
Isabella Chloe Winnsborough’
. From the moment of her arrival, she was the absolute light of my life. She had dark hair and Spence’s gorgeous blue eyes, along with a tiny rosebud mouth. How I wished that I might have shared the joy of her birth with him. When the nurse brought her to me, she was wearing a tiny white baby gown, and her hair had been swirled into a minuscule curl. All of the nurses were raving about how long her lashes were. I reached down and touched her little hand, and Isabella grasped hold of my finger. At that instant, I lost my heart.