The next week flew by. Each day they took Chloe and went on another excursion. By the time a few days had passed, they’d been on every street and lane in the village. They had taken a bit of Violette’s gift, and purchased an old automobile. It wasn’t pretty, but it ran well. As soon as they had it, Giselle took Elise to see the outside of Highcroft Hall and, of course, Elise was overwhelmed. She couldn’t imagine her friend actually going there to work each day. Giselle was fortunate she wasn’t expected to sleep at the mansion. Most of the staff were. At first that’s what the Thorntons had in mind. But, when she explained that she had a widowed friend, with a small child, who shared a cottage with her, they said that if Giselle didn’t mind working until Lady Celia dressed for dinner, it would be fine if she lived away from Highcroft Hall. Giselle wasn’t concerned about the hours. In return for putting in such long days, Lady Celia told her she could have Sundays and Mondays off. The arrangement was perfect. After the two friends talked further, Elise decided that, since Giselle would be free on Mondays, Elise could add to their income by giving French lessons. She wouldn’t have to wait until Chloe was school-age. Giselle would be free to tend Chloe, while Elise taught. By the time Giselle started work, Elise had placed an advertisement, and she already had three little girls, whose mothers wanted them to speak fluent French. She planned to start a class on Monday afternoons.
Giselle reported to Highcroft Hall early on a lovely, summer morning. She’d purchased a bicycle and rode the short distance to the country house. The only difficult part was climbing the hill that led to the Hall. She enjoyed the ride, since the pathway was leafy and lined with wildflowers. When she reached the steepest part of the journey, she walked beside her bicycle, enjoying the sunshine and views of the ocean. Her heart was very light. How incredible that her life had changed so abruptly. She’d attended Mass before setting out and asked God to bless the house where she’d be working. She thanked the Lord for giving her the opportunity to start anew and promised she wouldn’t do anything that wasn’t kind or good.
When she arrived, Mrs. Littleton took her into the office and gave her a cup of tea. She also offered breakfast, but Giselle declined. She’d eaten a croissant before leaving the cottage. Her duties were explained in detail, and Giselle realized that what she’d read in her library book matched perfectly with Mrs. Littleton’s expectations. After they’d chatted a bit, Giselle was taken to Lady Celia’s boudoir.
Since they’d met before, she didn’t feel uncomfortable with the countess. Lady Celia sat in a chair by the fireplace, inviting Giselle to join her. They enjoyed another cup of tea, and Lady Celia spoke of how she hoped they’d grow to be companions. Her last lady’s maid had been with her for many years, but had retired. She hoped Giselle would also be with her for a long time. She talked about her son, whose name was Sloan, and of how she worried for his safety. He’d been in Syria and Lebanon since the Allies had invaded those countries on June 8. She went on to tell of his engagement to a lady named Anne Whitfield, who was the daughter of a Duke. She explained that they’d known one another since childhood and that she and her husband loved Anne as if she were already their daughter. Both were impatient for the war to end, so Sloan would return and marry his lovely fiancée. Lady Celia told Giselle she’d undoubtedly meet Anne, since she often stopped by Highcroft Hall to visit with her prospective in-laws and to share letters from Sloan.
Finally the day truly began. Giselle was proud of herself for performing duties with no mishaps. Lady Celia was most satisfied with the way her hair was arranged. She also thought Giselle made excellent choices for wearing apparel. Giselle was actually surprised at how simply the countess dressed. Most of her day-clothing consisted of twin sets, or modest dresses with a cardigan. Evening frocks were a bit more formal, but not nearly as lavish as those worn at Maison de Violette. She didn’t find any of her assigned tasks overwhelming, and the hours flew by. When it was time to leave, Lady Celia said she was happy with her performance and looked forward to seeing her the next day.
Giselle sailed down the hillside just before the sun fell beneath the horizon. It had been a wonderful day. When she rode up the lane to the cottage, Elise was in the garden, with Chloe in a basket.
“Was it a success?” she called to Giselle.
“Absolutely. From start to finish. I’m going to love working there. Lady Celia is so pleasant. We spoke at length.”
She parked her bicycle and gave Chloe a cuddle. Then, the three went into the cottage. Elise had supper prepared. The aroma of roast chicken wafted through the cottage. While they set the table, Giselle chatted about her day. She told Elise about the Thornton son who was away fighting in the war, and about how he was engaged to the irreplaceable Anne.
“I think that sounds like a wonderful love story,” Elise responded.
“Yes. I suppose. I don’t know why, but I don’t think I’ll like Anne very much. I’m probably being unfair. I’ve no reason to have such feelings. She sounds almost too good to be true. Maybe I’m jealous.”
“Oh, Giselle. You? I don’t think so. In any event, you’ll get to meet her. Then you can decide. What did you say the son’s name is?”
“Sloan. Sloan Thornton. A different sort of name. I’ve never heard it before.”
Elise’s face paled. “Sloan? I’ve known someone named Sloan. It’s an unusual name. I don’t suppose it could be the same person.”
“Where did you meet someone named Sloan?”
“Do you remember the RAF Lieutenant I told you about? The one who came to my farmhouse needing help, after his plane was shot down? It was the same day the loathsome Nazis came to call.”
“Yes. Of course I remember. Do you mean to say his name was Sloan?”
“It was. I never knew his last name. Nor did he say where he was from. He did say ‘Sloan’ was a family name. You don’t suppose...?”
“As you’ve often said, anything is possible. But you told me that the ‘Sloan’ who came to your house believed the two of you were soulmates? This ‘Sloan’ is engaged to be married to a childhood sweetheart. Surely they aren’t one and the same?”
“No, it doesn’t seem likely. It’s just the similarity in names.”
The two friends sat down to eat. Chloe was placed in her basket by the table’s side.
“Still,” said Giselle, “I’m going to see if I can find out more about Sloan Thornton. I’ll ask Lady Celia if he was at Dunkirk, or injured his leg. Also whether ‘Sloan’ is a family name. Let’s see how many coincidences there are.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The opportunity to ask more about the Thornton’s son didn’t present itself for nearly two weeks. Lord Rowan and Lady Celia took a short trip to London. That called for sorting through clothing and making decisions about which outfits were appropriate for the journey. It wasn’t a particularly sensible time to visit the Capital, due to the war-footing, but they were attending a funeral and didn’t feel they could decline. Thankfully, by the summer of 1941, the air raids over London had become much less intense, since the RAF had begun to take control of the skies. That, undoubtedly, influenced Lord and Lady Thornton’s decision to attend the service of a life-long friend’s son. He’d died in London, from war wounds.
When they returned, both were tired. Giselle spent the majority of her time sorting through garments earmarked for contribution to the war effort. Thus, she didn’t see much of Lady Celia, who spent a lot of time resting. Finally things returned to normal. On a rainy afternoon Giselle and her employer took tea in Lady Celia’s boudoir. As the countess once again settled on her favorite topic, Lady Anne Whitfield and her son, Sloan, Giselle saw a perfect opportunity to investigate whether or not Sloan Thornton was the same person who’d paid a visit to Elise’s farmhouse in May 1940. She began by asking about his name.
“Lady Celia, I find Sloan an interesting choice for a Christian name. I’ve known several English people whose surname is Sloan, but I’ve never heard it used as a given name. I’m curious
about how you chose it for your son.”
“That’s an easy question,” Lady Celia smiled. “Sloan was my maiden name. My husband’s mother’s maiden name was Rowan, which is how he came to be called that, so when we had a son, we decided to follow the same tradition. We used my maiden name. Sloan loathed it as a child, but I think he’s rather fond of it now. At least it isn’t ordinary,” she smiled.
“No. I like it. I’ve never asked, but did Sloan go into the RAF as soon as war was declared?”
“Yes. He couldn’t have been held back. Just like all of his chums. Not all chose the RAF, of course, but he was fascinated with the idea of flying.”
“I imagine that worries you. So much of this war has been fought in the air. If it weren’t for the RAF, I wonder if there’d be much left of London. He hasn’t ever been wounded, has he?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, he was. Early on. At Dunkirk. His aeroplane was shot right out of the sky, and he was wounded in the leg. He found his way to a rural house and asked for help. Apparently a very kind, young lady, who’d been trained as a nurse, rendered first aid. He was able to get to the beaches, and a British ship picked him up. When he returned to England, the flight surgeon told him the French girl had done an excellent job on his wound. She probably saved his leg.”
“How remarkable!” Giselle exclaimed. “And how very fortunate.”
“Yes, it was. So, you see, we owe the French a debt of gratitude.”
***
Giselle was bursting at the seams when she arrived at No Regrets that evening. Elise could tell by the look on her face that she had something important to say.
“All right, Giselle. What is it? You look like you have a giant secret,” Elise laughed. She’d just finished feeding Chloe and had come downstairs after having tucked the baby into her cot.
“Well, I found out that ‘Sloan’ of the farmhouse, is the same ‘Sloan’ who’s heir to Highcroft Hall”
“Unbelievable!” exclaimed Elise. “I had a strong suspicion. So, we have another example of a scoundrel. You know, I really took him for a decent sort. I did think it peculiar that a man who I’d only just met, would go on and on about this ‘soulmate’ thing, but he was so convincing. I could have sworn he meant every word he was saying. He had such a sincere demeanor. That does take the cake, doesn’t it? There he was, engaged to the girl back home. I should tell her what a cad she’s planning to marry.”
“On no, Elise. Don’t do that. I agree. He’s a rogue, but don’t get involved with his personal life. It could put my job in jeopardy. The Thorntons think he hung-the-moon. They’d never listen to anything negative about him, and, of course, would take his side. They adore Anne. If you said something that caused her to question the engagement, it wouldn’t be their son who’d be blamed. It would be you. From what you’ve said, he’s quite a smooth talker. He’d get out of it someway – probably by denying he ever said such things.”
“Of course. You’re right. I guess she’ll have to find out for herself. I do feel sorry for her though.”
“Perhaps it was some momentary lapse of judgment on his part. You know, he’d been wounded. Perhaps he was in shock. Don’t people sometimes say strange things when they‘re in that condition?”
“Yes, I suppose that could be, but he seemed very rational. No matter. It isn’t really any of my business. I’m sure he never thought he’d see me again. I doubt I will see him, even though I’m living in the town named for his family. I certainly don’t want to see him. You know how wary I am of men. Mon Dieu, Giselle. Are they all liars?”
“It seems so, doesn’t it? I think it’s good to be wary of men. Better safe than sorry.”
“Do you think you’ll ever fall in love, Giselle?”
“I’d like to. It’s hard to imagine though. I’ve known so many men and wouldn’t have considered any of them as a future husband. Of course, if I’m honest, the sort of man I’d want wouldn’t be found in a brothel. At least I hope not,” she smiled ruefully.
“No, that’s probably not the ideal place to search for a mate.” Elise couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not sure there is an ideal place. Look at poor Anne. She’s known the rascal all of her life – grew up with him –knows his family. Yet, apparently she still doesn’t really know him.”
“That’s a sobering thought, isn’t it? She probably trusts him implicitly. If you can’t trust someone you’ve known all of your life, who can you trust? Perhaps it’s better to spend your life alone, than to have your heart broken by a cheat.”
“You might be right, Giselle. With what I’ve been through, I much prefer being alone. I suspect, however, that someday you’ll marry. You’d make a wonderful wife and mother. And, of course, you’re beautiful. Surely there’s some decent man in the world who’ll be good to you and make up for the sad times in your life.”
“That would be nice. But he’ll never know about the sad times, I can promise that. At least not all about them. I was such a little fool, Elise. I don’t know how I could have been so spiritual and not have known I was committing the worst sins.”
“You were very young. And foolish, yes. There are people in the world who take advantage of a young girl’s innocence – especially one with no parents. You were searching desperately for love.”
“I wasn’t raised with the religious values I grew into. When I was in Paris, I believed I wasn’t hurting anyone – that what I did with my own body was my business. That’s the way most of the girls I worked with thought. By the time I found God, I’d already made a mess of my life.”
“But Giselle, our religion teaches forgiveness of sins. I know you’ve been forgiven. You really need to try and believe you’re a new person.”
“I do believe that. But I’m afraid if I ever meet a good man, he won’t understand. How could I tell him such a thing?”
“Don’t worry about it now. You haven’t met him yet. If he’s truly good, then I think he’ll be understanding and forgiving.”
“Do you think you could ever forgive the men who hurt you?”
“That’s such a different thing. They were evil – pure evil. I think I’ll let God do the forgiving.”
“What about this ‘Sloan’ person?”
“He was a ship that passed in the night. There’s really nothing to forgive. He didn’t hurt me. It was all a bit of innocent flirting. He probably thought all French girls expect that sort of behavior. I don’t think very highly of him, now that I know he was engaged, but compared to what came later, he didn’t do anything so terrible. He made me feel special for a few moments. I guess that isn’t so awful, really.”
“I think you’re right. People do odd things at times like that.”
“No matter, Giselle. I hope he marries the divine Anne and has a happy life. I won’t interfere.”
***
The very next day, Giselle met the divine Anne. She’d expected the girl would eventually visit Highcroft Hall, and that Lady Celia would introduce them. She’d pictured Anne as a rather snooty young lady and had no great desire to meet her. But, of course, Giselle would be deferential, in keeping with her position in the household. She was sitting in the morning room, mending some clothing for Lady Celia. It was a pretty autumn day, and her mind was far away, thinking about how she’d spend her off-days that week. Suddenly her reverie was interrupted by the sound of voices. Glancing up, she saw the countess enter the room, followed by a very striking, dark haired girl. She had one of the loveliest complexions Giselle had ever seen. When she smiled, deep dimples showed, and her eyes were filled with kindness.
“Giselle, I want to introduce our son’s fiancée to you. This is Lady Anne Whitfield, of whom you’ve often heard me speak.”
Giselle stood and dropped a small curtsy. She knew it wasn’t strictly necessary, but it seemed the appropriate thing to do.
“I’m so happy to meet you, Lady Whitfield. I’ve heard such charming things about you.”
“And I have heard nothing but praise of yo
u. Lady Celia thinks of you as a daughter.”
“Oh, I’m flattered, Lady Whitfield, but it’s you who has that honour. As I understand, you’ll truly be her daughter when this dreadful war ends.”
“Yes. That’s the plan,” she replied, casting her eyes toward the floor.
Giselle thought she seemed ill-at-ease at the mention of marriage.
“I understand you came from France when the war began,” Anne continued. “I think you must be very brave. I can’t imagine what courage that took.”
Giselle smiled. “I don’t think I was courageous. When you’re desperate, you just act and think later. I’m sure you’d have done the same thing.”
“Perhaps. I’ve never found myself in that sort of situation. How fortunate that all went well, and you weren’t captured. One hears horror stories about what’s done to people interred in camps.”
“Yes. That’s one reason I decided to leave. Everyone I knew would have left, if given half a chance.”
“Well, I still think you’re marvelously brave.”
“Thank you, Lady Whitfield. I’m only glad to be in England now.”
“Oh, do call me Anne. I detest such formality. I suspect we’re about the same age.”
“I’m twenty-one. Sometimes I feel much older,” Giselle smiled.
“Then we’re exactly the same age. There are so few girls in this town with whom I have anything in common, because of age. Either they’re much younger, and quite silly, or much older.” She turned to Lady Celia. “Oh don’t misunderstand,” she smiled at the older woman. “I love spending hours with this dear lady, but there are times when I long for someone my own age to laugh with and share secrets. I don’t have a sister, and I was educated at home by a Governess, so I’ve never had the chance to meet a lot of girls my own age.”
Giselle’s heart went out to the young lady. Perhaps she’d judged her too harshly. Now that they’d met, she found Anne awfully charming. She seemed sweet and unaffected. In other circumstances, Giselle would have suggested that Anne meet Elise, and the three of them do something fun on an off-day, but she knew that would be completely inappropriate.
No Regrets: A Novel of Love and Lies in World War II England (The Thornton Trilogy Book 1) Page 6
