“Am I to be barred from the door then?” he asked, in a jocular manner.
“Of course not. I can’t imagine that they would ever be rude to someone I cared for.”
I was not so certain. My mother was demented on the topic. I had heard her go into ghastly rants about ‘Papists.” I played about in the tray of chocolate fancies, and selected one that looked particularly tasty. I honestly had very little appetite left, but I needed something to divert attention from the subject at hand.
“Does that mean you care for me, Sophia?”
“Now you’re teasing me again, Spence. As I said, I scarcely know you.”
“And I scarcely know you, but I believe I care for you.” He seemed so utterly sincere, and I felt that I already knew him well enough to be able to ascertain whether or not he was playing with my emotions. I could have sworn on a Bible that he was being exceedingly honest.
“Well, I believe I could care for you. Shall we just leave it at that for now,” I countered, with a smile.
“Perhaps, just for now,” he teased.
We were interrupted a final time, when the waiter presented us with the fourth course... a selection of cakes... Carrot, Fruit and Lemon. Ours eyes met, and once again we fought to suppress laughter. Both of us were full to the brim, but we politely accepted the offering. We both sampled a bit of each cake, and proclaimed them outstanding.
What a glorious afternoon it was. I couldn’t believe that it was already five o’clock. The time had flown by. I knew that my experience of tea at the Royal was one I would treasure forever. I already knew that there was no way that Spence and I would ‘just leave it at that.’ He was very proper when he took leave of me back at Ten Lancaster Gate, but he did ask me to accompany him to the theatre the next evening. I was ecstatic beyond words at the knowledge that he wanted to see me again so soon. Of course, I readily accepted his invitation. He was dreamy, and I could not believe that he actually found me intriguing. He could have had anyone in the world, and yet for the moment at least, he appeared to want me.
Could I trust him? That was my primary concern. My parents had raised me to be very wary of what they termed ‘Fortune Hunters’ or ‘Opportunists.’ The message they were attempting to convey was that any man who might show interest in me would be doing so for the possibility of monetary gain. I couldn’t imagine that someone like Spence could possibly love me for myself, no matter how much he protested.
CHAPTER THREE
Summer, 1935
The Last Georgian Summer
The memorable tea at the Royal was the beginning of everything. Everything that meant anything to me for the rest of my life. The following night we attended the St. James Theater and saw ‘Mask of Virtue’, which had opened to rave reviews in May. We had a lovely evening, and when we arrived back at my brother’s home, he once again asked to see me the next night, and every night thereafter, until he was forced to return to Twigbury, and his medical practice. Even after that, I saw him every weekend.
We did not kiss until we had known one another nearly a month, but I was mad with desire to do so. We took a picnic to Hyde Park. Spence ordered a delicious basket of delicacies from Fortnum and Mason. There was caviar, liver-pate, cold chicken, assorted cheeses, fresh fruit, biscuits, and dilled parsley potato salad, along with a bottle of Pouilly-Fuse Chardonnay. It was a glorious June day, without a cloud in the sky, and just enough breeze to keep it comfortable. We talked while eating our lunch, of everything from politics to the types of literature we liked. Mostly we found that we agreed on every topic, except that I preferred the earthier Geoffrey Chaucer in my literary tastes, which caused Spence to laugh aloud. We moved from that topic, to that of soul mates again, and love. The wind ruffled his hair, and the sun shone upon his skin, which had turned golden from time spent out of doors that summer. He wore a white linen shirt, rolled at the sleeves, and light weight summer trousers in pale beige. I must have resembled a copy of the famous artist Benson’s painting Summer Girls, dressed as I was in white muslin, trimmed with lace at the high collar and cuffs. My heart caught in my throat when he said that he knew with certainty that he had found his soul mate.
“Oh Spence”, I smiled in return; “I do feel as though I have known you forever. Isn’t that strange?”
He took a last sip of his wine, and placed the glass back into the picnic basket. Then, he turned to me and took me into his arms. Birds sang in the trees, and a nanny pushed a pram on the graveled pathway. I could hear the voices of children playing in the distance. “No, it isn’t strange, Sophia. It’s exactly as it should be.” He gently pulled me close to him, and placed his lips upon mine. I had never been kissed like that before. I felt so close to him. I began to understand what Edwina meant when she spoke of passion. “Sophia, I believe we have known one another forever. You are exactly as I knew you would be. You even have old, soul eyes.”
“What are old soul’ eyes?” I asked, still in his arms, hoping for another kiss.
“Eyes that look like they have lived many lives, and have experienced many emotions.” He played with a lock of my hair, and then kissed me again with heightened passion. I felt butterflies in my stomach. One kiss led to another, and I told him, between kisses, that he took my breath away.
***
As the summer moved swiftly by, I felt that I needed more, although I could not have defined what more meant. I just knew that our kisses were leading to something. He truly did render me speechless. He confused me at times, because one moment he acted as though he could not get enough of me.... Of my kisses . . . Of holding me. Then, he would suddenly end an embrace, as though he had remembered that it was not appropriate behavior. I did not know how to assess his actions. The most logical explanation was that he was concerned because we were from such opposite ends of the spectrum, when it came to social class, and because of the difference in our religions. I wondered if my position in the upper classes worried him. It was all so terribly confusing. I could see no Earthly reason for a problem arising from the fact that he did not own land, and didn’t have a title. I respected him more than anyone I’d ever met, and knew that, if anything, he would have preferred that I was just a simple girl, from a middle class upbringing, and not a member of the nobility. That particular part of the equation played no part in the feelings we had for one another. The worrisome aspect was whether my parents would view the matter as we did. It was hard for me to understand why Mummy had not been of noble birth, and yet was perfectly acceptable as a wife to Papa, yet in reverse circumstances, Spence wasn’t a proper choice for me. It made no sense, but many of the peculiar positions my parents held, on various matters, never did make sense. There was no question in my mind that Spence was looking ahead to a future that included much more than simple picnics in the park and theater openings. So was I. While I had vowed upon graduation from Ashwick Park that I was not going to immediately settle for the ‘suitable man’, marry young, and settle down to being a wife and mother at a tender age, my meeting Spence had radically altered my views. I could think of nothing that would please me more.
I had not told my parents that Spence was Catholic, nor that his mother was Irish I suspected that Drew had been right in May, when he’d warned me not to develop any serious feelings for Spence. My parents were going to be furious at his lack of a title and wealth. The additional fact that he was an Irish Catholic would probably make them apoplectic. In fact, I’d not even divulged that information to Drew or Blake, knowing that it would only lead to a repeat of the discussion we’d had on the night I first met Spence. Neither of my brothers had a bigoted bone in their bodies, but Mummy and Papa were an entirely different matter. I suspected that those difficulties weighed heavily upon Spence as well.
However, no amount of warning, schooling, or upbringing had taught me how to overcome feelings of the heart. I simply continued to grow ever fonder of him, as our relationship grew. No one had ever made me laugh the way he did, nor shown such interest in my thoughts and
feelings; no one had ever made my heart race the way it did as I glided with him across a dance floor. I couldn’t describe the feelings that were surging through me. Sometimes I felt that I could walk on water, and sometimes, for no reason whatsoever, when I heard a sweet love song, or walked in the garden on a warm, sunny day, I suddenly burst into tears. Edwina told me that it was true, first love, with all of its pathos and longing. I had never felt it before. I’d not told Spence that I loved him, nor had he said those words to me, but I knew... simply knew... that it was only a matter of time. It was a romantic, idyllic summer, and I wished it might never end. Even though I continued to see others, most notably Owen Winnsborough, so as not to start tongues wagging about Spence, no one came close to touching my heart the way Spence did, and I already knew that no one ever would.
Edwina left for Paris in September, and I missed my dear friend greatly. However, because I was so consumed with Spence, her departure had less impact upon me than might otherwise have been the case. She settled into a flat near The Esmod School, in the ninth Arrondissment, and settled into the life she had looked forward to for such a long time. We wrote often, and she seemed very happy. Edwina was clearly living the quintessential Bohemian life. She had already made several friends, which didn’t surprise me in the least. It was amusing for me to think of the changes that had taken place since the times when Edwina and I had giggled about Prince Edward in our room at Ashwick Park. Only a summer later, I found Spence infinitely more attractive than the Prince.
Summer gave way to autumn, and the days were cooler. There was a nip in the air, and the lush trees began their annual change to burnished gold, red, and russet. I began to cajole and beg Spence to allow me to visit him in Twigbury. I was mad with wanting to go. At first, he seemed reluctant to agree to such a rendezvous, but finally acquiesced. Annie and Drew discussed the visit’s appropriateness, and made the decision that they would accompany me as chaperons. We settled upon the weekend of November the first. We made plans for a stay at the Twigbury Court Hotel, a charming old fifteenth century Inn, well known in that ancient Cotswold village. I blessed them for being such a loving brother and sister-in-law, especially since they were willing to keep the trip secret from my parents. We decided that if my parents knew of the journey, it would only raise questions that I wasn’t yet prepared to answer.
For some reason, I knew before we ever reached Twigbury, that the weekend would turn out to be one of the most important in my life. I couldn’t have said why that was so, but I was certain it was true. We drove from London on a Friday afternoon, arriving in Twigbury a little past five o’clock. By half after five, we were settled into our marvelous suite, which boasted that King Charles had once been its occupant. The rooms were delightful and grand. There was an enormous drawing room, with a huge stone window seat, overlooking the garden, grounds, churchyard, and stream. Furnished with breathtaking antique pieces, a large fireplace dominated that area. Two bedrooms connected to the drawing room, both with large, antique canopy beds, topped with thick, goose-down comforters. The bathrooms were large and Victorian, with mahogany encased tubs, and the hotel itself was an imposing mansion. Tudor in style, it was run on country house lines. The Twig River formed the boundary of the picturesque grounds, and inside there was a comfortable, homey feeling. There was also a large, well-proportioned paneled lounge, with a huge open fireplace, leaded windows and an imposing main staircase surrounding a first floor gallery. As a final added touch, there was even an in-residence Irish setter, named Teddy. I found it thoroughly captivating. Spence was at the door within minutes of my call. I heard his exquisite, yellow roadster as it drove up the graveled lane through the gates, which led to the main entrance. Peering out of the window I watched as he disengaged himself from behind the wheel, and strode toward the hotel. When I opened the door to the suite he wrapped me in a warm embrace. Then he shook hands with Drew, and kissed Annie on the cheek.
“How splendid to have you here,” he exclaimed. “I so seldom have visitors. I cannot tell you how much this means.”
“It was a grand opportunity for us to take a weekend holiday. One forgets how nice the country can be,” answered Drew. “Especially at this time of year”.
“Would you like to dine here at the hotel, or we can go to the King Charles Hotel, just down the lane? I thought we’d drive over to Broadway tomorrow, and dine at the Ashton Arms.”
“What a marvelous idea, Spence! I have always wanted to visit there. Can you believe I never have?” I exclaimed, sounding like an excited little girl, which was exactly the way I felt. The Ashton Arms was a venerable old coaching Inn with a reputation known throughout England. I’d heard of it since a youngster.
“Then we’re going to remedy that,” Spence smiled. “Why don’t we begin right now by going for a walk? I’ll show you where I have my medical practice.”
Drew and Annie discreetly declined his invitation, clearly recognizing that Spence and I cherished every moment we could be alone together. We found our way down the staircase, and across the flagstone floor leading to the outer doors. We walked hand in hand down the graveled road, past a row of ancient old cottages called Wellington Row. Then we continued on to the paved main street, which wound its way through the village of Twigbury. About a half mile further, we came upon a Cotswold stone building, with high-pitched eaves. It cut into the hillside across from herbaceous gardens, a local trout farm and a duck reserve. A natural spring rose there to feed the river Twig, in a picture-postcard setting. At once, I understood why Spence had decided to fill-in for the physician who owned the medical practice in Twigbury.
“Spence, it’s breath-taking. I never expected it to be so lovely. This is where you work?”
He laughed. “Quite. I feel I’m a rather fortunate chap. As I’m doing paperwork at the end of the day, I stop and listen to the sounds of the river, and cannot imagine being anyplace else on earth.”
I can see why. It’s heavenly.”
He took my hand and led me through the doors of the small structure that housed his office. Inside, all was a model of efficiency. There was a comfortable waiting area, three examining rooms, and an office, where there sat a dark, polished desk stacked with papers, and silver frames, holding photographs. I picked up one of the photos and examined it. It portrayed a stunning woman, with dark hair done-up like a Gibson girl, and a lovely smile. Spence was almost the spitting image of her. She was standing next to a handsome man, who held a small boy in his arms. It was clearly a photograph of Spence and his parents.
“What a handsome family,” I remarked.
“Yes. My parents must not have been much older than I am now when that photo was made. I wish they might have lived to see my life today.”
“They’d be proud of you, Spence.”
“Do you think so, Sophia? My father was in the ship building business. I don’t know if he would have been particularly pleased that I chose the medical profession. I suspect he would have preferred that I follow in his footsteps.”
“Do you think you would have?”
“It’s hard to know, isn’t it? So often persons do what others expect of them. Most of the chaps I knew at school were following the family tradition. In that respect, perhaps I’m fortunate that I was able to make my own choices … Select my own path. Don’t misunderstand,” he smiled. “I’m certainly not fortunate to have lost my parents at such a young age. I would much rather have entered the ship building business and had my father, than have been free to follow medicine as a career. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you, Sophia?” ”
“Of course, Spence. And that’s an interesting way to think of it. I wonder what my choices might have been if faced with a similar situation? Of course, women are so much more limited in their choices, aren’t they?”
“Some are, some aren’t, Sophia. Look at Edwina. Going off to Paris to pursue a career, just as adventurous as any man I’ve ever known!”
We were still standing next to Spence’s
desk, and I finally placed the framed photo back into its place. “Well... Edwina has always marched to her own drummer,” I laughed. “But, most women aren’t given a lot of options.” From the time I started at Ashwick Park... actually from the time I was born... it was clearly understood that there was only one path that my life was to follow. I was to marry as quickly as possible after commencement from school. Certainly, the goal of the Season is to find a husband. You know that. I detest the way that sounds. It’s as though I’m telling you that I rather expect that you are to propose marriage to me. It isn’t supposed to be stated aloud, of course, but there it is.”
“Sophia. You are a treasure. Not another woman in England would say those words. Frankly, I adore your attitude. It takes all of the game playing out of it. However, you told me early on that you wished you had more options... that you weren’t ready to think of marriage so quickly. What would you do if you had options?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, Spence. I used to think I would love other options. I’m not certain of that anymore.”
“Would you run off to Paris with Edwina? Share her flat, have scads of romances, learn to paint, or write grand novels?”
“Me? Heavens no. London is quite adventuresome enough for me. I have never had any desire to live in France. I adore England. I especially adore London. Not necessarily to raise a family, but now, when I’m young. I think it would be smashing to be a part of it all. Rather like Annie and Drew are doing. They won’t be in London forever... just while he finishes Theology School. Then, they’ll return to a country setting... hopefully Willow Grove’s chapel.” As we talked, we moved to the small, slip-covered loveseat in his waiting area. We sat there and continued our conversation. Spence put his arm across the back of the sofa, and over my shoulders.
“Would you have a stylish home in London, then, and throw lavish parties and Balls?” He was smiling at me now, as he knew that was not who I was, and that such an idea wouldn’t appeal to me at all.
Willow Grove Abbey: A Historical World War II Romance Novel (The Somerville Trilogy) Page 5
