Willow Grove Abbey (32 page)

“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 fro
m 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

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.
“A
nd, 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 thould know.

“Thank you, baby. I won’t be gone the whole day. Would you like
Martha to take you to the park?

“Oh, tha
nk 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 g
rand 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 handso
me 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.

“Wh
en 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 the
m,” 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 beco
me difficult in London, of course, I’ll strongly consider relocating.”

“Then, whatever did you co
me 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.”

M
ummy gasped and put her hand to her breast. “What are you saying? How on earth can she not be Owen’s child?”

“Quite si
mply, 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.

“No, I do not have any ill feeling
s 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.”

“So what now?” asked
Papa?

“I don’t know. Don’t ju
mp to hasty conclusions. Spence is not ready to resume any sort of relationship with me. He was dreadfully angry at my not telling him the truth initially. I kept Isabella from him for a long time, after all. I understand his wariness. I’ve lied to him three times. Once when I told him I wouldn’t marry him because we weren’t of the same Class and because of his religion, both of which were horribly untrue; once when I learned I was pregnant; and once when we resumed our friendship last year, and swore we would always be honest with one another. I didn’t tell him the truth then. He’s not brimming over with trust for me. He’s trained to be an RAF flight surgeon, and is already off to his post. But, I do still care for him greatly, and it’s impossible not to have hope. However I’m also trying to be realistic. The important thing right now is that Isabella knows that he is her father, and hopefully will see him from time to time. I suppose a lot depends upon the war. Isabella needs to adjust to the news at this point.”

M
y parents were silent. Finally Mummy spoke. “Can he support you?”

“Pa
mela, that’s hardly an issue, considering Sophia’s settlement from Owen.”