Willow Grove Abbey: A Historical World War II Romance Novel (The Somerville Trilogy)

by Payne, Mary Christian

“Who on Earth…?”

  “Mummy is very keen on my marrying Lord OwenWinnsborough. She has virtually ordered it. Perhaps I’ll comply with her wishes.” I am certain that I must have looked like the cat that stole the cream.

  “Sophia. Owen Winnsborough? He looks like a spaniel.” Edwina had a horrified look on her face, and nearly ran the auto onto the curb.

  “I’ve always thought more like a bloodhound,” I giggled.

  “Sophia, I don’t believe we’re having this conversation. Are you serious?”

  “Yes, Edwina, I’m very serious.” And I was. It was snowing more heavily. I pulled my coat closer, as it grew colder in the automobile. My mind was working at top speed as I tried to envision what the future held for me.

  “Come. Let’s go into the house,” Edwina said, pulling up in front of her parent’s modest home. “We can talk upstairs in my room.” I was shivering. We entered the house through a side door, shedding our coats and boots. Thelma Phillips came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron.

  “Hallo, girls. I’ve been playing in the kitchen. It’s Catherine’s day off, and I decided to bake bread. Catherine was their cook. Do you want to sample a piece? It’s warm from the oven.”

  “That sounds heavenly,” Edwina replied. Her mother quickly disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two plates, piled high with warm bread and jam. “We’re going to my room for a long chat, Mum. Do you need our help with anything?”

  “No, Sweetie, nothing. Enjoy your time together.” I couldn’t help but think about how different Edwina’s mother was from my own. If Mummy had been like Thelma Phillips, I could have told her everything. A mother like Thelma would never have objected to Spence in the first place. Edwina and I climbed the staircase and entered her childhood bedroom. We curled up on the bright lavender bedspread, and continued our conversation.

  “All right, Sophia. If you’re really serious about this idea of marriage to Owen Winnsborough, which I must tell you I’m not at all in favor of, then we should talk specifics.”

  “Yes. I know you’re not in favor of it. It’s not exactly what I ever envisioned, either. Nevertheless, you must admit, it could be the answer. I would be able to keep my baby. Spence would never know. The child would not have the stigma of illegitimacy, and Mummy and Papa would have no reason to cause Spence harm.” I nibbled on a piece of warm bread.

  “Yes. Those are all reasons to consider such a scheme. I’m just worried about you, Sophia. I hate the thought of you being married to a man you don’t love, who may be enraged when he learns what kind of a lie has been perpetrated upon him.”

  “I don’t care about me. I’m certain I can convince him that it’s his child. I’ll manage to be abroad, visiting you, when the baby comes! We won’t tell Owen when it happens, and will let him believe that the birth date is later.”

  “Well…it might work. It would have to be very well planned.” Edwina rolled her eyes and sighed.

  “Edwina, we can do it. I know we can, I cried, as I took her hands into mine. You must help me. Say you will,” I begged.

  “Of course I shall. But, Sophia, have you ever had a date with Owen?”

  “Yes. Actually, I have. We’ve seen each another on a regular basis since early summer. He called just last week, and I saw him. We really are good friends. He is very interested in me. I have no doubt of that. I was still seeing a few other men during most of the summer, so my parents wouldn’t know I was so keen on Spence, but Owen was definitely the primary one.”

  “Does Owen know of your relationship with Spence?”

  “No, Goose, I’m not such a fool as all that,” I said, playfully hitting Edwina on the arm. Do you think I have been telling other men how much I adore Spence? So, now, I need to turn my relationship with Owen into a love match, become engaged, and marry him, all in a rather short time frame.”

  “Quite a tall order, Sophia.” Edwina looked skeptical.

  “Well, it is, but not totally unheard of. After all, you know that the whole goal of the Season is to snag a husband before it ends. Everyone knows that. I have grown up hearing it all of my life. You know that Papa asked Mummy to marry him on their second date, if you can imagine. They were married not long after. I’ll just have to do it, too,” I replied. “I’ll begin by accepting Owen’s invitation to the Christmas Ball at St. James Palace on the 11th of December.”

  “That should be a good beginning, but it’s not far away, Sophia. Can you pull it off that quickly? That Ball is almost mandatory for nobility, isn’t it? Perhaps he’s made other plans by now.”

  “I can do it. Absolutely. Owen has made it perfectly clear that he is smitten with me. I suspect a romantic night at the Christmas Ball would go a long way toward a proposal. He asked me to accompany him to the Ball some time ago. I’ve never responded, but I think it’s time I do.”

  “It seems a bit late to me, but if you think it will work then you must do it. You must call him right this minute. If this is your plan, and you’re absolutely certain that it’s what you want to do. You mustn’t waste any time.”

  “Quite right,” I answered. “Hand me the telephone, Edwina, I pronounced, in a determined voice.” I didn’t know Owen’s number, so I rang Drew, and was able to obtain it from him. Surely, he and Annie were perplexed as to why I would want the number of someone about whom I’d made rather disparaging remarks. However, Drew was quite nice enough not to ask. Then I placed the call to Owen. A manservant answered on the second ring. The line was static, as it was a long distance call from Bury St. Edmunds to Winnsborough Hall, but I managed to hear well enough.

  “Winnsborough Hall”.

  “May I speak with Lord Winnsborough?” I asked, in my most aristocratic voice.”

  “May I say who is calling, please?”

  “Lady Sophia Somerville.” I made a gagging motion to Edwina, and put my hand over my mouth to keep from giggling.

  “One moment, Miss,” the voice responded. I tapped my fingers nervously, on the top of an end table, while waiting for Owen to come to the telephone. The time for anxiety was over, and I knew what I had to do. Finally his voice came on the line.

  “Lord Winnsborough, here,” he said.

  “Owen. This is Sophia Somerville. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

  “Not at all, Sophia. I am delighted to hear from you. Quite delighted.”

  “How kind of you,” I simpered. “I hope you’ll tell me that you’ll be delighted to escort me to the St. James Christmas Ball,” I said, in a coquettish voice. ”Have I waited too long to accept your invitation?”

  “Why Sophia! No, of course you haven’t. It would be an honor. I may have to do some rearranging of my schedule, but certainly, I would be proud to be your escort. I am rather surprised. I’d thought some other fortunate gentleman must have laid claim to you.... That I’d lost my chance.”

  “Nothing of the sort, Owen. I have just been so beastly busy, what with my close friend Edwina visiting from Paris. I’m afraid I have shamefully neglected you, and I’m so sorry. Now that the silliness of the Season is coming to an end, I’m of a mind to look to the future, and begin to lead a quieter life.”

  “I see,” he replied. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Yes, perhaps we’ll be able to spend more time together. I do so enjoy being with you.”

  “And I you, Sophia. You cannot know how happy your call has made me. By the way, wherever are you ringing me from? This connection is beastly.”

  “I’m at Edwina’s in Bury St. Edmunds. I was telling her of the many splendid times we’ve shared during the past few months, and then I suddenly remembered that I’d never given you an answer about the Christmas Ball.” Owen seemed thrilled to hear that Edwina and I had been discussing him in favorable terms.

  “Shall we try to dine before the Christmas Ball? Perhaps take in the theatre?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

  I’m certain I’ll be able to procure tickets to
‘The Late Christopher Bean’ at the St. James, Theater. Do you think you might enjoy that,” he asked.

  “Absolutely, Owen. I’ve heard a great deal about it.” The truth was that I had seen the play with Spence when it opened back in September.

  “Have you any plans for the coming Tuesday evening?”

  “No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t,” I replied.

  Well, splendid. I shall send my car for you at seven, and we shall dine after the theatre. I’ll be at my flat in London.

  That sounds simply wonderful, Owen. I’m so glad I called.”

  “Yes Sophia. I am too. I’ll look forward to Tuesday.”

  “Good night then, Owen,” I replied, as we rang off.

  Edwina was rolling on the bed in hysterics. It was a terribly serious, horrible situation, and what I had in mind was exceptionally Machiavellian. Yet neither of us could stop from seeing its humorous side. Perhaps we were simply trying very hard to make the best of dreadful circumstances. On the other hand, perhaps we were only young girls, who simply couldn’t imagine anything truly, truly horrid happening in our lives. It had been so long since I had laughed and it felt good. We giggled, snickered, chuckled, and tittered until our sides hurt. Later however, when alone I wept.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  21 January 1936

  A Wedding

  In the blink of an eye, I found myself engaged on the night of the St. James Palace Christmas Ball. Even I hadn’t dreamed of such good fortune. But, after our planned evening at the theater, followed by dining at The Picardy Lane Hotel’s opulent restaurant, I saw Owen every night thereafter. I made a visit to Willow Grove Abbey, because there was the necessity of telling my parents that if Owen asked my hand in marriage, I fully intended to accept his proposal. I made it clear to my parents that I was only considering such action because of their stated wishes, and that under no circumstances was I in love with him. Furthermore, I let them know that I did not want a long engagement, and wished to marry as soon as possible... that I did not want a lot of formality and fuss. They were so thrilled that I had finally ‘come to my senses’ that they argued little with anything else I had to say. Owen showed up for a chat with my parents, while I was there. He spoke to my father, and of course was granted permission to seek my hand. Then, the actual night of the Ball, he presented me with a large, quite ostentatious, diamond ring. It was not at all what I might have selected, but it really didn’t matter. Diamonds were supposed to show that one’s intended was of an economic class that could afford such a divine luxury. Thus, Owen had complied with societal expectations.

  He never did tell me that he loved me, nor did he kiss me. It was all rather business-like. He explained that because we had known one another such a long time, and that our families were so well acquainted, he felt that we were extremely well-suited to one another, and that I would make a splendid mistress of Winnsborough Hall. He felt that I had all of the poise and dignity that such a position required, and that he would be proud for me to be the Duchess of Winnsborough. I suppose there were many girls my age who would have been bonkers over such a request, but I wasn’t one of them. I’d known love with Spence, and there was no way that marriage to Owen could begin to match feelings I still harbored for my lost love. After the initial niceties were behind, his parents and mine took over from there. The only other item that we really had much say in was the actual date of the marriage. Owen and I agreed that a long engagement would be trying for everyone... Owen, me, both of our families and all of our friends. There just seemed no sense in such a waste of time. Needless to say, the sooner the wedding took place, the better for me. We had already known one another for some eighteen years. So, there was agreement that we would choose a forthcoming date in 1936. I suggested January 21, which sent his mother and mine into a tizzy. It was pointed out that such a hurried date provided barely enough time to accomplish the assembling of a trousseau, making plans for a wedding trip, choosing decorations, sending invitations and selecting a menu for the wedding supper. In addition, Owen’s family planned a pre-nuptial dinner on the evening preceding the wedding itself. However, I stood my ground. I reiterated over and over that I did not want a lot of fancy and fuss. After much arguing back and forth, everyone agreed that I had a right to pick my wedding date, and so it was agreed upon. It was a Tuesday, which was not unusual at that time. Particularly for a smaller wedding. We set the time as two o’clock in the afternoon, with the reception following at Willow Grove Abbey one half hour later. Since the wedding was to be held in the chapel at our home, there was little need for consideration of the distance one needed to travel between wedding ceremony and reception. Drew agreed to conduct the ceremony, which added a personal touch.

  On 20 January, 1936, we all gathered at Winnsborough Hall for the pre-nuptial dinner, hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Winnsborough. In retrospect, it set the tone for everything that followed. Just as we were about to be seated for dinner, the butler interrupted with the announcement that a telegram had been delivered. The Duke, looking a bit irritated, accepted the yellow envelope and tore it open. After scanning the contents, he cleared his throat and asked for everyone’s attention.

  “I have just received word that our beloved King George the Fifth has passed away,” he declared. There was complete silence in the room as everyone absorbed the news. No one was especially surprised, as the King had been ill for quite some time. He had not been a young man. Nevertheless, as is always the case when a Monarch dies, the gathering that evening was galvanized into mourning. The ritual, pomp, and ceremony that is such an integral part of British life would follow. The families present that evening were personally acquainted with the King, so all of us were even more sincerely distressed. My parents had last seen him at his Silver Jubilee Celebration in 1935, which had marked his twenty-five-year reign. The Jubilee had marked the calendar that year, and a service was held at St. Paul’s Cathedral on May Sixth, followed by a private reception given by the Prince of Wales. It was near in time to my Presentation. My family had been guests, although I hadn’t attended a I was just finishing up at Ashwick Park. It was incredible to think that the Prince would be... was... the King. He would be known as Edward the Eighth, and his reign promised a breath of fresh air to a generation which thought there needed to be some loosening of social restrictions. Nevertheless, it was with heavy hearts that those of us who were gathered for the pre-nuptial dinner received the news of King George’s passing. We were keenly aware that it was a momentous, historic occasion. Certainly, it put a damper upon the wedding festivities. Everyone drank a toast to the deceased King, and then another to the new King Edward. With that, the evening progressed in an orderly, if somewhat subdued, fashion. That was the prelude to the big event.

  Edwina had come from Paris and I was grateful, as I could be honest with her. We spent my last night as a single girl in my bedchamber at Willow Grove Abbey, chattering into the wee hours, as we had done so many times before at Ashwick Park. “Sophia, it’s amazing that everything you predicted in early December has actually happened. And in such a short time,” Edwina said, as she slipped into the twin bed opposite mine. ‘I’m happy, in a way, because I know that it solves so many problems, but it truly makes me ill to think of you married to Owen.”

  “I’m in a bit of shock myself. Can you believe that he asked me to marry him the night of the Christmas Ball? Even I hadn’t counted on such luck. It wasn’t even difficult to convince him to marry so quickly. He really wasn’t interested in a large, ostentatious wedding at Westminster, or wherever, and he certainly didn’t wish for a prolonged engagement. I’m doing the right thing, Edwina. I know it’s not what I dreamed. However, it will work out all right. My baby will have a name. Owen will be kind to me. Moreover, if he is not the Grande Passion you envisioned for me, please find comfort in the fact that I did have a wonderful love story. You and I have always known that our futures would carry us along different paths. Of course I wish circumstances were different, but wh
at’s done, is done.”

  “I just wish that if you couldn’t have married the man you loved, you might have been able to wait a bit. You seem so young to be burying yourself in the country with Owen Winnsborough. I should go totally mad if that’s all I had ahead of me. ”

  “What might I have done? Even if the baby hadn’t been a consideration, I wouldn’t have wanted to return to Willow Grove Abbey, living unmarried, embroidering linens, and waiting for a suitable man. Do you remember teasing me about living my life as a Jane Austen heroine? Anyway, Owen and I have the flat on Sumner Street in London, so when I feel the need to escape, I shall always have a place to go. Moreover, don’t forget, I do have something marvelous to look forward to.... The birth of Spence’s child.”

  “I know, I know. I look forward to that as well. But... but... You write so well, Sophia. I always believed that you might do more with that, beyond simply scribbling in your journal.”

  “Perhaps I shall, someday. But, I can be married and write as well.” I scrunched my feather pillow into a ball, and settled my head upon it.”

  “I remember you saying that when we first met at school.”

  “Yes, I remember that too,” I answered, wistfully. It all seemed such a dreadfully long time ago, although in reality it was less than two years. I had only just turned nineteen on the fourteenth of January.

  “It’s hard for me to think of you as Lady Sophia Winnsborough, Edwina continued. “At least, it’s a rather nice sounding name.”

  “It’s hard for me to think of myself as a Winnsborough. I guess I’ll become accustomed to it.”

  “Will we still be close friends, do you think Sophia? Our lives will be so vastly different. Goodness! You will be a Duchess!

  No…Not immediately I won’t. Not until the Duke and Duchess, Owen’s parents, are deceased. I hope that isn’t for a long while. They are very dear people. Until then, I’ll be a Marchioness. I won’t make you use my title though,” I teased. “I’ll still be referred to as ‘Lady, and you’ve never called me that, Don’t you ever dare,” I laughed.... only my last name will be different. Anyway, as to your question about our friendship. It’s totally daft. You know that we shall always be the dearest of friends. You’re like my sister. I cannot imagine what I would do without you. You silly girl. We had this conversation once before too, on our last day together at Ashwick Park. That time you reminded me that we would be seeing one another in Paris before very long. That never came to pass, but this time we’re saying it again. Paris. Midsummer.” I was referring to our plans for a summer holiday visit, which would coincide with the birth of the baby. I’d already broached the idea of a visit to Paris to see Edwina for a girl’s only rendezvous, and Owen had not voiced any objections.