“Yes, Mum. Of course,” Mrs. Whittaker replied, tears welling in her eyes. “May I ask, Mum, what...what happened?”
“He was found in the Thames, in London. I suspect he must have slipped and fallen. Perhaps he’d had a bit too much to drink,” I lied. Mrs. Whittaker wiped her eyes on her apron, and I stood, putting my arms about her. “It will be all right. We shall get through this. I’m going to need your help, so please try to be strong.”
“Yes, Mum, I will. It’s what His Grace would want,” she sniffed, as she headed out the doorway of the room to seek out Morris, and to set about preparing guest suites.
A few moments later, Morris appeared. Mrs. Whittaker hadn’t told him what had happened, and had simply asked him to report to me in the drawing room. I told him what had taken place, and he was very stiff upper-lipped. Naturally, he was devastated, but it was not considered proper form to show any such emotion. He assured me that the entire household would be assembled in an hour, and that I could then make my announcement.
In the interim, I picked up the telephone and rang my parents. I stared out the window at the dreary rain. Thank goodness, Papa answered the telephone, as I certainly did not feel up to dealing with Mummy. My father listened quietly, and then said that he and Pamela would be at Winnsborough Hall as quickly as possible. I silently blessed him for not asking a myriad of questions. Owen’s parents were next. I dreaded that call most, knowing it was going to devastate them. The butler at Snow Hill, answered, and I asked for the Duke. I knew that it would be wiser to tell Owen’s father, and let him tell Owen’s mother. There was a brief wait, and then his voice came on the line.
“Your Grace, this is Sophia,” I began.
“Well, Sophia, what a nice surprise,” he responded.
“I have such dreadful, terrible news to give you,” I said, as I began to weep.
“What is it, Sophia? Are you ill? Has something happened to the baby?”
“No. No. The baby is fine. I’m fine. But, Sir, Owen... Owen... Owen is dead.” I had been standing by the telephone table, but I sank back down onto the settee.
“How can that be?” he asked, stunned. “Was there some sort of accident? Was he out riding without his hard hat?”
“No. He drowned in the Thames. Dear God, I cannot believe it.”
“Do you mean to say that he drowned himself? Committed Suicide? My Lord, Sophia, is that what you’re saying?”
“No... No one has said anything like that. The police in London called and told me that they dragged him from the Thames. They said nothing about suicide. They wanted to tell me where they were taking his body.”
“Where is he? Where, Sophia?”
“At the London morgue. He has to be officially identified, even though he was carrying identification. I suppose that’s their routine,” I responded, trying to gain control of myself.
I’ll take care of that, dear. You don’t need that trauma.”
“Thank you, so much. I appreciate that immensely,” I sobbed.
“Sophia, what in the world happened, or do you know? Was he alone? Do you have any details at all?”
“Not many. I don’t believe there was anyone with him. At least they didn’t say. I suppose he could have been accosted and robbed and... and... murdered”. I did not even remotely suspect such a thing. “On the other hand”, I continued, “I don’t know? Could he have somehow lost his footing? Might he have had too much to drink and slipped, you know?”
“I have never heard of anyone slipping and falling into the Thames. You say that he had his identification. That would have been in his wallet, which seems to rule out robbery. Moreover, even if that were the case, Sophia, it is summertime and the water should be quite a decent temperature. Owen was an excellent swimmer. Of course if he were drunk... Well... That would be another matter.”
“Yes, “I replied, not knowing what else to say. There was silence for a moment. I continued to weep.
“Sophia, do you think he committed suicide? Tell me what you honestly think.”
“I think it’s a distinct possibility, Sir,” I answered truthfully, though reluctantly.
“Do you have reasons for such suspicions?” He continued. “Was Owen distraught?”
I continued to sniffle. “Sir, I don’t think he would want me to tell you,” I murmured.
Sophia let me make this easier for you. The Duchess and I have suspected for quite some time that Owen is…was…homosexual. We have suspected it for years, but I suppose we hoped against hope that he would outgrow it, or that marriage would make a difference. I do not think it has. Do you believe that this has something to do with what has happened?”
“Yes... Yes,” I wept. “I do. I had just learned the truth... was in London two nights before, and surprised him at the flat with a young man. It finally explained many things to me. Our marriage has been most... strange. It hasn’t been... physical.”
“Did the two of you have an argument that night? Was he terribly upset that you had learned the truth?”
“Of course he was upset, but no, actually, we didn’t have an argument. Unbelievably, we had a civil discussion. We were going to work it out... Not, of course, continue with the marriage, but obtain an annulment. There were not bitter feelings. He was to see his solicitor in London the next day, and then he planned to come home, where we were going to talk it all out.” I felt better telling Owen’s father the truth. At least a portion of the truth.
“I see. Owen, of course, did not think that his mother and I knew about his homosexuality. I should have told him... should have told you. We thought that when you became pregnant it proved that he could change... wanted to change. Nevertheless, from the moment he told us of the baby, it was clear that we had made a terrible mistake in encouraging him to marry. It was apparent that he was not acting as a husband who was happily expecting his first child. He spent far too much time away from Winnsborough Hall, for no good reason. Now, he’s gone and we’ve ruined your life too.”
“No, that isn’t the case. I don’t know what caused Owen to wind up in the Thames, and I may never know. However, I’m certain that it was not because I was going to have a baby. Yes, he was terribly worried that you would find out the truth, and I assured him that I would never say anything, so he couldn’t have been worried about that.”
“Well, I’m dreadfully sorry Sophia... dreadfully. We loved him dearly. Of course, I am shocked. His mother will be broken-hearted. However, there are things that I must do. Can’t fall apart, you know,” he stated with firm resolve, while clearing his throat. “You and I shall speak again at Winnsborough Hall. I must tell the Duchess, and I need to make some calls, and a dashed trip to London. I assume you wish to follow family tradition, and have him interred in the cemetery on the grounds?”
“Yes... Yes, of course. Whatever you think would be appropriate. In addition, do you think we should notify the newspapers before there is too much speculation?”
“Yes, jolly good. I shall do that at once. Now, you just hold fast, until we are able to get there. Is your family coming?”
“Yes, I’ve spoken to them, and they are,” I answered.
“Good show, then. Brace up, Sophia. Owen would expect you to be strong. We shall be there by tomorrow at the latest.” I felt better when we rang off.
Next, I rang Edwina again, and told her. There was a long pause after I said the words “Owen is dead.”
“Dead? Dear God, Sophia, you didn’t kill him, did you?” she asked, sounding very serious.
“Oh Edwina, don’t be absurd. Of course not. It is just horrible and I am all undone. My parents will be here shortly, and I need your advice and strength.”
“I’m sorry, Sophia. I didn’t really think that. What in the world did happen?”
“He was found dead, floating in the Thames. Drowned.”
“How gruesome. You weren’t in London too?”
I told her exactly what had transpired since my last call to her. When I finished, Edwin
a said that she quite suspected he had committed suicide.
“But why? We talked it all out. I was not going to expose him. In addition, as it turns out, his parents have suspected this for some time anyway. His homosexuality was not a shock to them. Of course, he didn’t know that.”
“Nice of them to tell you,” Edwina sarcastically replied.
“I know, Edwina, but, let’s face it; I wasn’t exactly honest with them, either. My greatest dilemma now is whether to let them go on believing that my baby is Owen’s. That is what he wanted me to do. He said that he wanted the baby to have his name, but I don’t feel right about it.”
“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 seems 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 Duchess 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 such 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 this 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 will 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.
Willow Grove Abbey: A Historical World War II Romance Novel (The Somerville Trilogy) Page 15
