I believed he was correct, and his words comforted me. It would have been exceptionally difficult to remain upset when the rest of my world was bathed in a radiant glow. The only discomfort I felt at that moment was a gnawing sensation somewhere in the pit of my stomach when I thought about Spence meeting Isabella, and the secret I still harbored.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
August 1938- September 1939
The Truth Comes Out
The happenings of the next year diverted my attention from the shock concerning Papa’s possible involvement with Edwina. To begin with, Edwina’s own actions completely obliterated any lingering feelings of unrest and suspicion that I still had. In September, 1938, Edwina announced her intention to marry Dieter Schoen! I was aghast at the news, and it required a tremendous amount of effort to show even a minuscule amount of joy at my dear friend’s engagement. There’d been no mention of Dieter since the deplorable incident at Willow Grove, but for the brief conversation I’d had with my father. I assumed that Edwina had severed all ties with Dieter. Certainly all romantic ties. I couldn’t fathom Edwina becoming Dieter’s wife. Even if I had not witnessed his abhorrent behavior at Isabella’s birthday party, I would still have found it difficult to profess true happiness at the prospect of Edwina spending her life as ‘Frau Schoen’.
Edwina made the announcement via long distance telephone, probably because she knew that my reaction would not be overwhelmingly positive. In one respect, however, the news came as something of a relief. I certainly felt that it leant more credence to my father’s explanation of the deplorable letter salutation I’d discovered. It seemed unlikely that Edwina would commit to marrying a man who had been seen behaving in such a rude fashion, unless she truly loved him. Certainly she would not have done so if there were any sort of love affair taking place. However, I was still intensely dismayed.
Sentiments in England were becoming ever more negative toward Germans. Dieter had done nothing to endear himself to my family or friends. I found his political views repugnant, and could not fathom Edwina feeling any differently. No argument, however, seemed to phase my friend. Her mind was made up. I correctly sensed that too much negativity would only serve to damage our friendship irrevocably. Edwina maintained that a fellow traveler had treated Dieter shabbily on their trip from Paris to England for Isabella’s party. This then had caused him to feel resentful and ill at ease upon arrival at Willow Grove Abbey. However much Edwina protested, I found it hard to view him in a favorable light. Although I made every attempt not to be critical, and to give the impression that I was happy for her, I simply could not bring myself to attend the wedding, scheduled for May, 1939 in Paris. They planned a small affair with little elaboration. There was not even to be a church ceremony, which surprised me greatly, as I’d always assumed Edwina would want an enormous amount of glitter and splendor. I did know that Edwina’s father was not well, and it was possible that the stress of an elaborate event would be too physically demanding. I also believed that Edwina was sensitive to the prevailing anti-German feelings in Great Britain. Perhaps she felt it would be uncomfortable for those in Bury St. Edmunds if she brought Dieter Schoen to the local parish church for the nuptials.
Before I could turn my attention to Edwina and her upcoming marriage, I encountered more trauma in my relationship with Spence. Following our meeting in August, our bond continued to develop. We didn’t rush headlong into a torrid love affair, as we were both wary of being too impetuous. When the time was right, we knew it would be a lifelong commitment. The second time around we would allow nothing and no one to come between us. Because we felt so fortunate to have another chance, we wanted to savor every moment. And then, there was the very real consideration of Isabella. I had no intention of introducing a strange man into her life one moment, and making him her father the next. Isabella was not used to sharing her Mummy with anyone, and I knew that I needed to ease her into the idea of having another person in her life.
As a result, I didn’t immediately introduce my little girl to Spence. I took her to Willow Grove for the Christmas holidays, and he and I had a quiet celebration later. When I finally felt the time was right for an introduction, it was early April of 1939, eight months after our reconciliation. Spence had been gently pressuring me for months. Though the event was well planned, I was still somewhat nervous, as it was the first time that I’d introduced a man to my daughter. Spence came to the flat at six o’clock on a Saturday evening. Martha prepared a simple dinner of roast beef, browned potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, and green beans... Isabella’s favorite. When Spence arrived, he was carrying a large box, clearly meant as a gift for Isabella. She was still in her nursery, being dressed by Martha, and it was a few moments before she made her appearance in the parlor. She emerged, wearing a white plisse’ dress, trimmed with green ribbon. There was a green bow in her hair and her long, black curls were brushed back from her face. She was such a beautiful child that sometimes she literally took my breath away. It was apparent that Spence was instantly smitten.
“Well, well, so you are Isabella. What a lovely young lady you are,” he said.
She smiled shyly, and then spied the box sitting next to him on the sofa. “Ith that for Bella?” she asked. She had quite a pronounced lisp, which the doctors told me she would outgrow. I thought it added to her charm, and wasn’t the least concerned about it.
“Yes, yes, it is. Would you like to open it?”
“Oh yeth.” She clapped her hands in delight, and looked at me for permission.
“Yes of course, darling. Let Doctor Stanton help you with the wrapping.”
Spence began removing the wrapping paper and ribbon, and Isabella helped. Together they lifted the lid off the box, and there lay a magnificent doll, made in the likeness of the Princess Elizabeth. She wore a white satin dress, and on her head was a tiny tiara of rhinestones. Isabella was enchanted.
“Oh. Oh... Mummy, look!”
“Would you like to hold her?” Spence asked, placing the doll in Isabella’s arms.
“Do be careful of her darling,” I reminded. “And do thank Doctor Stanton for such a lovely gift.”
“Thank you” she said, shyly.
“You’re very welcome. When I saw her in the shop window, I knew she needed a little girl just like you to take care of her.”
“She’s booful,” said Isabella.
“So are you,” Spence answered, smiling at her mispronunciation.
Isabella settled down in a corner of the room and began to play with the doll, exploring her clothing and hair. Spence and I enjoyed a cocktail before dinner, and watched my precious daughter. It was a delightful evening, and I couldn’t help but think that this was what life would be like when we married. Martha called us to the dining room, and Isabella made certain that her dolly came with us. We made a great fuss about placing Elizabeth in the place of honor. The conversation was dominated by talk of the games Isabella liked to play, and she chattered on about kings and queens. Spence seemed very impressed, and he alternated between utter fascination with her, and speechlessness. He gave her his undivided attention and I was glad. After the meal, we returned to the parlor and relaxed with an after dinner liqueur, while Isabella continued to arrange Elizabeth’s hair.
“How thoughtful of you to have brought her the doll. She loves it. What a perfect gift,” I commented.
“I’m glad she likes it,” he answered, taking a sip of his drink. “She really is a little beauty, Sophia. Where did she get those eyes? They’re an unusual shade of blue?”
I felt uneasy. Isabella’s eyes were a gorgeous sapphire blue. I knew that Spence had been told all of his life how unusual the color of his eyes was. My own eyes were a green. “Were Owen’s eye’s blue?” he asked.” I met him at your Ball, but don’t remember much about him.”
I suppose I could have lied, but knowing that he had met Owen, I wanted to be as truthful as I possibly could be. “Yes, but rather lighter than hers... Somewhat ‘washed out’. I
haven’t figured from whom Isabella inherited hers... Possibly Mummy, although hers are more ice blue. Probably a Winnsborough. I’ve never really known many of them.”
“Does she see them often?”
“Not frequently. They travel a great deal. I try to make certain they see her at special times, such as holidays. Nannies’ primarily raised Owen. He was at boarding school early. Therefore, they’re not accustomed to lavishing attention on children or grandchildren. No matter. I think it causes less confusion for Isabella”
“She has an engaging way about her. She reminds me of someone.”
“Isabella reminds you of someone? Who on Earth would she remind you of?” I asked.
Spence didn’t answer right away. He took another sip of his drink, and it seemed as though he was taking some time to decide upon how to proceed or what to say next. The silence lengthened, and it began to make me anxious.
“Spence is something the matter?” I finally asked, breaking the stillness.
“I think perhaps you should ask Martha to take Isabella to her room,” he responded.
“Why? Whatever is wrong?” My throat felt dry.
“Please just do as I ask, Sophia. I’ll explain as soon as we’re alone.” Reluctantly, I complied, and instructed Martha to take Isabella to the nursery to prepare for bedtime. My little girl took her new dolly and, grasping Martha’s hand, toddled down the corridor to her bedchamber.
I turned to Spence with a puzzled expression. “What is this about?” I asked.
“It’s about the fact that Isabella is my child.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me, Sophia, and there’s no point in pretending or lying to me. She is my child. My daughter!
I felt panicky, but tried to maintain a semblance of control. “Why would you think such a thing?”
“Because she’s a replica of my mother when she was a child, right down to the tiny birthmark on her arm, the cleft in her chin, and the color of her eyes. I have portraits of my mother at Isabella’s age. You would think it was the same person. I’ve watched her throughout dinner... her mannerisms... the expression in her eyes... even the slight tilt of one eyebrow.”
“Spence, this is your imagination.”
“Stop it, Sophia! This is not my imagination. Isabella is my child. You must have become pregnant that weekend in Twigbury. The timing would fit perfectly. I don’t believe she was born in September. Nine months would put it at August. Edwina must have been in on the entire scheme. She must have helped you. This is beyond comprehension, Sophia. How could you have lied to me this way, and kept me from my own child?”
There was no point in continuing the artifice. I was sick inside, and all of a sudden, there seemed no logical explanation for why I had ever attempted such a ploy. “Spence, how can I make you understand?” I began.
“You can’t. Not in a thousand years. I loved you Sophia. I wanted to marry you. You knew that. I even believed it when you told me that you ended our relationship because you were afraid of what your mother might do to me, and to my reputation. When you learned that you were expecting my child, how could you not have come to me? Was I not good enough to be Isabella’s father? Did Lord Winnsborough seem a better choice, with his lineage and title?”
“Oh Spence, no. It was nothing like that. My parents would have sent me away. They would never have allowed a marriage. I would have had to adopt out Isabella.”
“Over my dead body! Rubbish. I am bloody sick and tired of you using your parents as an excuse for your own weakness. Nothing on earth would have kept me from marrying you, and giving our daughter her rightful name. Nothing! Certainly not your foolish, fatuous mother nor your spineless father. This is complete poppycock, and I will not sit here and listen to such gibberish. You lied, Sophia. You schemed and robbed me of something precious.”
“I didn’t feel I had an alternative.”
“Then you were a bloody, little fool!” He slammed his glass down so hard on the tea table that it broke, and I was surprised that it didn’t cut his hand. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a towel. While sopping up the mess on the table, I continued pleading with him. “Spence, please, please listen to me.”
“No Sophia. You have had more than one opportunity to tell the truth, but you didn’t intend to ever do so. Even as recently as last August, when we were promising one another that there’d be no more secrets or lies, you were prepared to continue this deception.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“You didn’t know how to tell me? I cannot imagine such a rotten, vile, cursed thing. You are not the woman I fell in love with. You’re a silly little piece of fluff, and I’ll never forgive what you have done.”
I threw the towel down. I was weeping, but Spence was far too angry to care about my tears. I couldn’t blame him. He was correct, and I knew it. There was nothing left to say. It was perfectly obvious that no amount of pleading on my part was going to undo the hurt I had caused. Nothing could bring back the three years of Isabella’s life he had missed, nor make up for the fact that she wouldn’t be raised as her father’s daughter. To the world, she would always be Isabella Winnsborough.
“I need to get some air, Sophia. I don’t recall ever being this bloody angry. When I have had a chance to think, I shall be in touch with you. Not because I want anything more to do with you, but because I do intend to have some part in my daughter’s life. I just cannot think how that can be arranged. I can’t think logically about anything right now.” He stood up and walked to the lift, and in a matter of moments, he was gone, before I had a chance to say another word. I sat on the sofa sobbing, feeling horrendous anguish. How could I have been so stupid? Spence was right. I should have told him. Everything would have been all right. Why had I been such a fool?
“Mummy, why are you crying?” Isabella’s voice penetrated my thoughts. She was standing in front of me, still holding her doll, dressed in a white night dress, her black curls shining.
“Oh darling. Mummy’s just had an upsetting conversation. It will be all right. Don’t fret about it. Come here and let me hold you. That’ll make me feel better.” Isabella crawled onto my lap, and buried her head on my shoulder.
“Is Mummy thad?” she asked.
“I’m all right, sweetheart. Everything will be fine.”
“That man made you cry.”
“No, he’s a nice man, Isabella. He didn’t do anything. I did something silly and it made him sad. That’s why I’m crying.”
“Then thay you’re sorry.”
“Perhaps, baby.” I kissed the top of Isabella’s head. “Mummy’s very tired now. Would you like to come and sleep in my bed with me?”
“Yeth. May I?” It was one of her favorite, special things to do.
“Yes, you may,” I answered. I carried her to the bedroom, tucked her under the down comforter, and prepared myself for bed. Turning out the light, I snuggled next to my little girl’s warm body, and thanked God for blessing me with such a treasure. However, even the comfort of Isabella couldn’t erase Spence’s words from my memory. I finally drifted into restless sleep with a heavy heart.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
September 3, 1939
War
I did not hear from him for a week. When he finally called, I had almost willed myself to believe that everything would be all right. I tried to imagine that when he’d had time to think it through, he would see that there’d been justification for my behavior. He would forgive me. Needless to say, that was fantasy. While he seemed subdued, and much more controlled, it was apparent that he was every bit as angry as he had been. His feelings hadn’t changed.
“Sophia,” he began. “I want to talk to you about the decision I’ve reached regarding Isabella, and my place in her life.”
“All right,” I answered. I was hopeful that, at least if he wanted to be a part of Isabella’s life, I would be able to see him. Perhaps, in time, he would mellow. After all, he could not have stop
ped loving me so abruptly. I knew that he was terribly hurt, and I understood why. However I had always been an incurable believer that time was a healer.
“I don’t intend to see her again,” he flatly stated.
“What?” I replied, astonished.
“I don’t intend to see Isabella. I don’t think it’s fair to her, and it’s terribly painful for me. She is not old enough to understand all of this, and I have no wish to cause her confusion. Perhaps someday when she’s older, and can better comprehend.”
“But, Spence, don’t you think she deserves to know her father?”
“I think you’ve a bloody lot of nerve making that statement. If you’d been concerned about Isabella knowing her father, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
“All right, Spence. I know I was wrong. I cannot do anything to change that now. I have said I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough. But, does Isabella have to pay for my mistakes the rest of her life?”
“Sophia. If you and Owen had remained married, would you ever have told Isabella the truth? Would I ever have known the truth? Would Owen ever have known the truth? I do not think so. You were perfectly prepared to make Isabella pay for your mistakes the rest of her life, until you got caught in your lies.”
“I did tell Owen the truth. He knew about the entire, sordid scheme. He understood.... Better than you do. Why do you want to go back over the past repeatedly? Why can’t we start from today with the truth?”
“Because I’ll never trust you again. Now you tell me that Owen knew. Perhaps that bit of knowledge contributed to his suicide. Has that crossed your mind, Lady Winnsborough?”
“The knowledge that Isabella wasn’t his child had nothing... Absolutely nothing... To do with Owen’s decision to end his life. He even wanted to give the baby his name, and there was no animosity.”
Willow Grove Abbey: A Historical World War II Romance Novel (The Somerville Trilogy) Page 24
