Jewels

THE CRITICS LOVE

DANIELLE STEEL’SJEWELS“A CROWNING ACHIEVEMENT WHICH REPRESENTS A NEW VITALITY IN STEELS ART. JEWELS IS A WORK OF SPLENDOUR WHICH IS FOREVER CAUGHT IN THE NEXUS OF TIME AND LOVE.”—The New England Reviews of Books“A smashing story of a good woman triumphing over adversity.”—Ocala Star-Banner“ENGROSSING…. Take it on your beach vacation and count the number of others handling the green book jacket. A, lot!”—San Antonio Express News“Dukes … jewels … and French chateaux … JEWELS can be counted on to shoot off the shelves!”—Kirkus Reviews“Our hands-down choice! … JEWELS is a standout.… Steel has established herself as a best-seller author … and the reason is simple enough. She knows how to weave a story and that’s no small achievement!”—BookviewsA MAIN SELECTION OF

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DANIELLE STEEL“STEEL IS ONE OF THE BEST!”—Los Angeles Times“THE PLOTS OF DANIELLE STEEL’S NOVELS TWIST AND WEAVE AS INCREDIBLE STORIES UNFOLD TO THE GLEE AND DELIGHT OF HER ENORMOUS READING PUBLIC.”—United Press International“Ms. Steel’s fans won’t be disappointed!”—The New York Times Book Review“Steel writes convincingly about universal human emotions.”—Publishers Weekly“One of the world’s most popular authors.”—The Baton Rouge Sun

Books by Danielle Steel

MIRACLE THE GIFT IMPOSSIBLE ACCIDENT ECHOES VANISHED SECOND CHANCE MIXED BLESSINGS RANSOM NO GREATER LOVE SAFE HARBOUR HEARTBEAT JOHNNY ANGEL MESSAGE FROM NAM DATING GAME DADDY ANSWERED PRAYERS STAR SUNSET IN ST. TROPEZ ZOYA THE COTTAGE KALEIDOSCOPE THE KISS FINE THINGS LEAP OF FAITH WANDERLUST LONE EAGLE SECRETS JOURNEY FAMILY ALBUM THE HOUSE ON HOPE STREET FULL CIRCLE THE WEDDING CHANGES IRRESISTIBLE FORCES THURSTON HOUSE GRANNY DAN CROSSINGS BITTERSWEET ONCE IN A LIFETIME MIRROR IMAGE A PERFECT STRANGER HIS BRIGHT LIGHT: REMEMBRANCE THE STORY OF NICK TRAINA PALOMINO THE KLONE AND I LOVE: POEMS THE LONG ROAD HOME THE RING THE GHOST LOVING SPECIAL DELIVERY TO LOVE AGAIN THE RANCH SUMMER’S END SILENT HONOR SEASON OF PASSION MALICE THE PROMISE FIVE DAYS IN PARIS NOW AND FOREVER LIGHTNING PASSION’S PROMISE WINGS GOING HOME Visit the Danielle Steel Web site at:

www.daniellesteel.com

DELL PUBLISHING

TO POPEYE

There is only one real love in a lifetime, only one, that matters, that grows, and that lasts forever … in life … in death …together, as one … sweet love, you are mine. My one and only love … forever.

With all my heart,

Olive

a cognizant original v5 release october 06 2010

Chapter 1

HE air was so still in the brilliant summer sun that you could hear the birds, and every sound for miles, as Sarah sat peacefully looking out her window. The grounds were brilliantly designed, perfectly manicured, the gardens laid out by Le Nôtre, as Versailles' had been, the trees towering canopies of green framing the park of the Château de la Meuze. The château itself was four hundred years old, and Sarah, Duchess of Whitfield, had lived here for fifty-two years now. She had come here with William, when she was barely more than a girl, and she smiled at the memory as she watched the caretaker’s two dogs chase each other into the distance. Her smile grew as she thought of how much Max was going to enjoy the two young sheepdogs.

It always gave her a feeling of peace, sitting here, looking out at the grounds they had worked so hard on. It was easy to recall the desperation of the war, the endless hunger, the fields stripped of everything they might have had to give them. It had all been so difficult then … so different … and it was odd, it never seemed so long ago … fifty years … half a century. She looked down at her hands, at the two enormous, perfectly square emerald rings she almost always wore, and it still startled her to see the hands of an old woman. They were still beautiful hands, graceful hands, useful hands, thank God, but they were the hands of a seventy-five-year-old woman. She had lived well, and long; too long, she thought sometimes … too long without William … and yet there was always more, more to see, to do, to think about, and plan, more to oversee with their children. She was grateful for the years she had had, and even now, she didn’t have the sense that anything was over, or complete yet. There was always some unexpected turn in the road, some event that couldn’t have been foreseen, and somehow needed her attention. It was odd to think that they still needed her, they needed her less than they knew, and yet they still turned to her often enough to make her feel important to them, and still somehow useful. And there were their children too. She smiled as she thought of them, and stood, still looking for them out the window. She could see them as they arrived, from here … see their faces as they smiled, or laughed, or looked annoyed as they stepped from their cars, and looked expectantly up at her windows. It was almost as if they always knew she would be there, watching for them. No matter what else she had to do, on the afternoon they were to arrive, she always found something to do in her elegant little upstairs sitting room, as she waited. And even after all these years, with all of them grown, there was always a little thrill of excitement, to see their faces, hear their tales, listen to their problems. She worried about them, and loved them, just as she always had, and in a way, each one of them was a tiny piece of the enormous love she had shared with William. What a remarkable man he had been, larger than any fantasy, than any dream. Even after the war, he was a force to be reckoned with, a man that everyone who knew him would always remember.

Sarah walked slowly away from the window, past the white-marble fireplace, where she often sat on cold winter afternoons, thinking, writing notes, or even writing a letter to one of her children. She spoke to them frequently on the telephone, in Paris, London, Rome, Munich, Madrid, and yet she had an enormous fondness for writing.

She stood looking down at a table draped in an ancient, faded brocade, a beautiful piece of antique workmanship that she had found years ago, in Venice, and she gently touched the framed photographs there, picking them up at random to see them better, and as she looked at them, it was suddenly so easy to remember the exact moment … their wedding day, William laughing at something someone had said, as she looked up at him, smiling shyly. There was so much happiness evident there, so much joy that she had almost thought her heart would break with it the day of her wedding. She wore a beige lace-and-satin dress, with a very stylish beige lace hat with a small veil, and she had carried an armload of small, tea-colored orchids. They had been married at her parents’ home, at a small ceremony, with her parents’ favorite friends beside them. Almost a hundred friends had come to join them for a quiet, but very elegant, reception. There had been no bridesmaids this time, no ushers, no enormous wedding party, no youthful excess, only her sister to attend her, in a beautifully draped blue-satin dress with a stunning hat that had been made for her by Lily Daché. Their mother had worn a short dress in emerald-green. Sarah smiled at the memory … her mother’s dress had been almost exactly the color of her own two extraordinary emeralds. How pleased with her life her mother would have been, if only she had lived to see it.

There were other photographs there as well, of the children when they were small … a wonderful one of Julian with his first dog … and Phillip, looking terribly grown-up, though he was only eight or nine, when he was first at Eton. And Isabelle somewhere in the South of France in her teens … and each of them in Sarah’s arms when they were first born. William had always taken those photographs himself, trying to pretend not to have tears in his eyes, as he looked at Sarah with each new, tiny baby. And Elizabeth … looking so small … standing beside Phillip in a photograph that was so yellow, one could hardly see now. But as always, tears filled Sarah’s eyes as she looked at it and remembered. Her life had been good and full so far, but it hadn’t always been easy.

She stood looking at the photographs for a long time, touching the moments, thinking of each of them, gently brushing up against the memories, while trying not to bump into those that were too painful. She sighed as she walked away again, and went back to stand at the long French windows.

She was graceful, and tall, her back very straight, her head held with the pride and elegance of a dancer. Her hair was snowy-white, though it had once shone like ebony; her huge, green eyes were the same deep, dark color as her emeralds. Of her children, only Isabelle had those eyes, and even hers weren’t as dark as Sarah’s. But none of them had her strength and style, none of them had the fortitude she had had, the determination, the sheer power to survive all that life had dealt her. Their lives had been easier than hers had been, and for that, in some ways, she was very grateful. In other ways, she wondered if her constant attention to them had softened them, if she had indulged them too much, and as a result had made them weaker. Not that anyone would call Phillip weak … or Julian … or Xavier … or even Isabelle … still, Sarah had something that none of them had, a sheer strength of soul that seemed to emanate from her as one watched her, It was a kind of power one sensed about her as she walked into a room, and like her or not, one couldn’t help but respect her. William had been like that, too, although more effusive, more obvious in his amusement about life, and his good nature. Sarah had always been quieter, except when she was with William. He brought out the best in her. He had given her everything, she frequently said, everything she had ever cared about, or loved, or truly needed. She smiled as she looked out over the green lawns, remembering how it had all begun. It seemed like only hours ago … days since it had all started. It was impossible to believe that tomorrow was going to be her seventy-fifth birthday. Her children and her grandchildren were coming to celebrate it with her, and the day after that, hundreds of illustrious and important people. The party still seemed foolish to her, but the children had absolutely insisted. Julian had organized everything, and even Phillip had called her from London half a dozen times to make sure that everything was going smoothly. And Xavier had sworn that, no matter where he was, Botswana or Brazil, or God only knew where else, he would fly in to be there. Now she waited for them, standing at the window, almost breathlessly, feeling a little flutter of excitement. She was wearing an old, but beautifully cut, simple black Chanel dress with the enormous, perfectly matched pearls that she almost always wore, which caused people who knew to catch their breath the first time they saw them. They had been hers since the war, and had they sold in today’s world, they would have surely brought well over two million dollars. But Sarah never thought of that; she simply wore them because she loved them, because they were hers, and because William had insisted that she keep them. “The Duchess of Whitfield should have pearls like that, my love.” He had teased her when she first tried them on, over an old sweater of his she had borrowed to work in the lower garden. “Damn shame my mother’s were so insignificant compared to these,” he had commented, and she’d laughed, and he had held her close to him as he kissed her. Sarah Whitfield had beautiful things, she had had a wonderful life. And she was a truly extraordinary person.

And as she began to turn away from the window at last, impatient for them to come, she heard the first car coming around the last turn in the driveway. It was an endless black Rolls-Royce limousine, with windows so dark, she wouldn’t have been able to see who was in it. Except that she knew, she knew each of them to perfection. She stood smiling as she watched them. The car stopped directly in front of the main entrance to the château, almost exactly below her window, and as the driver stepped out and hurried to open the door for him, she shook her head with amusement. Her eldest son was looking extremely distinguished, as always, and very, very British, while trying not to appear harassed by the woman who stepped out of the car just behind him She wore a white silk dress and Chanel shoes, her hair cut short, very stylishly, with diamonds glittering in the summer sun absolutely everywhere she could find to put them. She smiled to herself again as she turned away from the scene at the window. This was only the beginning … of a mad, interesting few days…. Hard to believe … she couldn’t help but wonder what William would have thought of all of it … all this fuss over her seventy-fifth birthday … seventy-five years … so much too soon…. It seemed only moments since the beginning….

Chapter 2

ARAH Thompson had been born in New York in 1916, the younger of two daughters, and a slightly less fortunate but extremely comfortable and respected cousin of both the Astors and the Biddles. Her sister, Jane, had in fact married a Vanderbilt when she was nineteen. And Sarah got engaged to Freddie Van Deering exactly two years later, on Thanksgiving. She was nineteen herself by then, and Jane and Peter had just had their first baby, an adorable little boy named James, with strawberry-blond ringlets.

Sarah’s engagement to Freddie came as no great surprise to her family, as they had all known the Van Deerings for years; and although they knew Freddie less, as he’d been in boarding school for so many years, everyone had certainly seen a lot of him in New York while he was going to Princeton. He had graduated in June, of the year they got engaged, and had been in high spirits ever since that illustrious event, but he had also managed to find time to engage in courting Sarah. He was a bright, lively boy, always playing pranks on his friends, and intent on seeing to it that everyone had a good time wherever they went, particularly Sarah. He was seldom serious about anything, and always joking. Sarah was touched by how attentive he was, and amused to find him in such good spirits. He was fun to be with, easy to talk to, and his laughter and high spirits seemed to be contagious. Everyone liked Freddie, and if he lacked ambitions for the business world, no one seamed to mind it, except perhaps Sarah’s father. But it was also well known to everyone that if he never worked, he could live very handsomely on the family fortune. Nevertheless, Sarah’s father felt it was important for a young man to participate in the business world, no matter how large his fortune, or who his parents were. He himself owned a bank, and spoke to Freddie at some length about his plans, just before the engagement. Freddie assured him that he had every intention of settling down. In fact, he’d been offered an excellent position at J. P. Morgan & Co., in New York, as well as an even better one at the Bank of New England in Boston. And after the New Year, he was going to accept one of them, which pleased Mr. Thompson no end, and he then allowed their official engagement to go forward.

The holidays were great fun for Sarah that year. There were endless engagement parties for them, and night after night they were going out, having fun, seeing their friends, and dancing until all hours of the morning. There were skating parties in Central Park, luncheons and dinners, and numerous dances. Sarah noticed that during that time Freddie seemed to drink a great deal, but no matter how much he drank he was always intelligent, and polite, and extremely charming. Everyone in New York adored Freddie Van Deering.

The wedding was scheduled for June, and by spring, Sarah was overwhelmed, between keeping track of wedding presents, fittings for her wedding gown, and more parties given by still more friends. She felt as though her head were spinning. She hardly saw Freddie alone at all during that time, and it seemed as though the only time they met was at parties. The rest of the time, he was with his friends, all of whom were “preparing” him for the great plunge into A Serious Life of Marriage.

It was a time Sarah knew she was supposed to enjoy, but the truth was, as she confided to Jane finally in May, she really wasn’t. It was too much of a whirlwind, everything seemed out of control, and she was absolutely exhausted. She ended up crying late one afternoon, after the final fitting for her wedding gown, as her sister quietly handed her her own lace hankie, and gently stroked her sister’s long dark hair, which hung far past her shoulders.

“It’s all right. Everyone feels like that just before a wedding. It’s supposed to be wonderful, but actually it’s a difficult time. So much is happening all at once, you don’t get a single quiet moment to think, or sit down, or be alone. … I had an awful time right before our wedding.”

“You did?” Sarah turned her huge, green eyes to her older sister, who had just turned twenty-one and seemed infinitely wiser to Sarah. It was a huge relief to her to learn that someone else had felt equally overwhelmed and confused just before their wedding.

The one thing Sarah did not doubt was Freddie’s affection for her, or what a kind man he was, or how happy they would be after their wedding. It just seemed as though there was too much “fun” going on, too many distractions, too many parties, and too much confusion. All Freddie ever seemed to think about was going out and having a good time. They hadn’t had a serious conversation in months. And he still hadn’t told her what his plans were about working. All he kept telling her was not to worry. He hadn’t bothered to take the job at the bank after the first of the year, because there was so much he had to do before the wedding that a new job would really have been too distracting. Edward Thompson took a dim view of Freddie’s ideas about work by then, but he had refrained from saying anything about it to his daughter. He had discussed it with his wife, and Victoria Thompson felt sure that after the wedding, Freddie would probably settle down. He had, after all, gone to Princeton.

Their wedding day came in June, and the extensive preparations had been worthwhile. It was a beautiful wedding at St. Thomas Church on Fifth Avenue, and the reception was held at the Saint Regis. There were four hundred guests, and wonderful music that seemed to go on all afternoon, delicious food, and all fourteen bridesmaids looked adorable in their delicate peach-colored organdy dresses. Sarah herself wore an incredible dress of white lace and French organdy, with a twenty-foot train, and a white lace veil that had been her great grandmother’s. She looked absolutely exquisite. The sun had been shining brilliantly all day. And Freddie looked as handsome as anyone could. It was in every possible way, the perfect wedding.

And almost the perfect honeymoon. Freddie had borrowed a friend’s house and a little yacht on Cape Cod, and they were completely alone with each other for the first four weeks of their marriage. Sarah felt shy with him at first, but he was gentle and kind, and always fun to be with. He was intelligent when he allowed himself to be serious, which was rare. And she discovered that he was an excellent yachtsman. He drank a good deal less than he had before, and Sarah was relieved to see it. His drinking had almost begun to worry her just before the wedding. But it was all in good fun, as he told her.

Their honeymoon was so lovely that she hated to go back to New York in July, but the people who had lent them the house were coming back from Europe. Sarah and Freddie knew that they had to get organized and move into their apartment. They had found one in New York, on the Upper East Side. But they were going to stay with her parents in Southampton for the summer, while the painters and the decorator and the workmen got everything ready.

But that fell, once they returned to New York after Labor Day, Freddie was too busy to get a job once again. In fact, he was too busy to do much of anything, except see his friends. And he seemed to be doing a great deal of drinking. Sarah had noticed it in Southampton that summer, whenever he got back from the city. And once they moved into their own apartment in town, it was impossible not to notice. He came home drunk, late every afternoon, after spending the day with friends. At times, he didn’t even bother to show up until long after midnight. Sometimes, Freddie took Sarah out with him, to parties or balls, and he was always the life of the party. He was everyone’s best friend, and everyone knew they would always have a good time as long as they were with Freddie Van Deering. Everyone except Sarah, who had begun to look desperately unhappy long before Christmas. There was no longer any mention at all of his getting a job, and he brushed off all of Sarah’s delicate attempts to discuss it. He seemed to have no plans at all, except having fun and drinking.

By January, Sarah was looking pale, and Jane had her over to tea to see what was the matter.

“I’m fine.” She tried to seem amused that her sister was concerned, but when the tea was served, Sarah turned paler still and couldn’t drink it.

“Darling, what’s wrong? Please tell me! You have to!” Jane had been worried about her since Christmas, Sarah had seemed unusually quiet at their parents’ house for Christmas dinner. Freddie had charmed everyone with a toast in rhyme about the entire family, including the servants who had worked for them for years, and Jupiter, the Thompsons’ dog, who barked on cue while everyone applauded Freddie’s very accomplished poem. It had amused everyone, and the fact that he was more than a little tipsy seemed to go unnoticed.

“Really, I’m fine,” Sarah insisted, and then finally began to cry, until she found herself sobbing in her sister’s arms and admitting that she wasn’t fine at all. She was miserable. Freddie was never home, he was out constantly, he stayed out until all hours with his friends, and Sarah didn’t admit to Jane that she sometimes suspected the friends might even be female. She tried to get him to spend more time with her, but he didn’t seem to want to. And his drinking was worse than ever. He had his first drink every day long before noon, sometimes when he got up in the morning, and he insisted to Sarah that it wasn’t a problem. He called her “his prim little girl,” and brushed off her concerns with amusement. And to make matters worse, she had just learned that she was pregnant.

“But that’s wonderful!” Jane exclaimed, looking delighted “I am too!” she added, and Sarah smiled through her tears, unable to explain to her older sister how unhappy her life was. Jane’s life was totally different. She was married to a serious, reliable man who was interested in being married to her, while Freddie Van Deering most assuredly wasn’t. He was many things, charming, amusing, witty; but responsibility was as foreign to him as another language. And Sarah was beginning to suspect that he would never settle down. He was just going to go on playing forever. Sarah’s father had begun to suspect that, too, but Jane was still convinced that everything was going to work out happily, especially after they had the baby. The two girls discovered that their babies were due at almost exactly the same time—within days of each other, in fact—and that bit of news cheered Sarah a little before she went back to her lonely apartment.

Freddie wasn’t there, as usual, and didn’t come home that night at all. The next day he was contrite when he came home at noon, explaining that he had played bridge till 4 A.M. and then stayed where he was because he was afraid to come home and wake her.

“Is that all you do?” For the first time, she turned on him angrily after he had explained it, and he looked starded by the vehemence of her tone. She had always been very demure about his behavior before, but this time she was clearly very angry.

“What on earth do you mean?” He looked shocked at her question, his innocent blue eyes opened wide, his sandy-blond hair making him look like Tom Sawyer.

“I mean, what exactly do you do at night when you stay out until one or two o’clock in the morning?” There was real anger there, and pain, and disappointment.

He smiled boyishly, convinced he would always be able to delude her. “Sometimes I have a little too much to drink. That’s all. It just seems easier to stay where I am when that happens than come home when you’re asleep. I don’t want to upset you, Sarah.”

“Well, you are. You’re never home. You’re always out with your friends, and you come home drunk every night. That’s not how married people behave.” She was steaming.

“Isn’t it? Are you referring to your brother-in-law, or normal people with a little more spunk and joie de vivre? I’m sorry, darling, I’m not Peter.”

“I never asked you to be. But who are you? Who am I married to? I never see you, except at parties, and then you’re off with your friends, playing cards, and telling stories, and drinking, or you’re out, and God knows where you are then,” she said sadly.

“Would you rather I stayed home with you?” He looked amused, and for the first time she saw something wicked in his eyes, something mean, but she was challenging his very lifestyle. She was frightening him, and even threatening his drinking.

“Yes, I would rather you stay home with me. Is that such a shocking thing?”

“Not shocking, just stupid. You married me because I was fun to be with, didn’t you? If you’d wanted a bore like your brother-in-law, I imagine you could have found one, but you didn’t. You wanted me. And now you want to turn me into someone like him. Well, darling, I can promise you that won’t happen.”

“What will happen then? Will you go to work? You told Father last year you would, and you haven’t.”

“I don’t need to work, Sarah. You’re boring me to tears. You should be happy that I don’t have to scrabble like some fool, at some dreary job, trying to put food on the table.”

“Father thinks it would be good for you. And so do I.” It was the bravest thing she had ever said to him, but the night before she had lain awake for hours, thinking of what she would tell him. She wanted to make their life better, to have a real husband, before she had this baby.

“Your father is another generation”—his eyes glittered as he looked at her—“and you’re a fool.” But as he said the words, she realized what she should have known from the moment he walked in. He’d been drinking. It was only noon, but he was clearly drunk, and as she looked at him, she felt disgusted.

“Maybe we should discuss this some other time.”

“I think that’s a fine idea.”

He had gone out again then, but returned early that night, and the next morning made an effort to get up at a decent hour in the morning, and it was then that he realized how ill she was. He was startled as he questioned her about it over breakfast. They had a woman who came in every day to clean the house and do ironing and serve their meals when they were at home. Usually, Sarah liked to cook, but she had been unable to face the kitchen for the last month, although Freddie hadn’t been home often enough to see that.

“Is something wrong? Are you ill? Should you go to a doctor?” He looked concerned as he glanced at her over the morning paper. He had heard her retching horribly after they got up, and wondered if it had been something she had eaten.

“I’ve been to the doctor,” she said quietly, her eyes looking at him, but it was a long moment before he glanced her way again, almost having forgotten his earlier question.

“What was that? Oh … right … good. What did he say? Influenza? You ought to be careful, you know, there’s a lot of it about just now. Tom Parker’s mother almost died of it last week.”

“I don’t think I’ll die of this.” She smiled quietly and he went back to his paper. There was a long silence, and then finally he looked at her again, having totally forgotten their earlier conversation.

“There’s a hell of a stink in England over Edward VIII abdicating to be with that Simpson woman. She must be something else, to get him to do a thing like that.”

“I think it’s sad,” Sarah said seriously. “The poor man has been through so much, how could she destroy his life like that? What kind of life can they possibly have together?”

“Maybe a pretty racy one.” He smiled at her, much to her chagrin, looking handsomer than ever. She wasn’t sure anymore if she loved or hated him, her life with him had become such a nightmare. But maybe Jane was right, maybe everything would be better after they had the baby.

“I’m having a baby.” She almost whispered to him, and for a moment, he seemed not to hear her. And then he turned to her, as he stood up, and looked as though he hoped she were joking.

“Are you serious?” She nodded, unable to say more to him, as tears filled her eyes. In a way, it was a relief finally to tell him. She had known since just before Christmas, but hadn’t had the courage to tell him. She wanted him to care about her, wanted a quiet moment of happiness between them, and since their honeymoon on Cape Cod seven months before, that just hadn’t happened.

“Yes, I’m serious.” Her eyes said she was, as he watched her.

“That’s too bad. Don’t you think it’s a little too soon? I thought we were being careful.” He looked annoyed and not pleased, and she felt a sob catch in her throat, as she prayed not to make a fool of herself with her husband.

“I thought so too.” She raised her tear-filled eyes to him, and he took a step toward her and ruffled her hair, like a little sister.

“Don’t worry about it, it’ll be all right. When’s it for?”

“August.” She tried not to cry, but it was hard to control herself. At least he wasn’t furious, only annoyed. She hadn’t been thrilled when she heard the news either. There was so little between them at this point. So little time, so little warmth or communication. “Peter and Jane are having a baby then too.”

“Lucky for them,” he said sarcastically, wondering what he was going to do with her now. Marriage had turned out to be a lot more of a burden than he had expected. She seemed to sit around at home all the time, waiting to entrap him. And she looked even more woebegone now, as he glanced down at the little mother.

“Not lucky for us though, is it?” She couldn’t restrain die two tears that slid slowly down her cheeks as she asked him.

“The timing isn’t great. But I guess you don’t always get to call that, do you?” She shook her head, and he left the room, and he didn’t mention it to her again before he went out half an hour later. He was meeting friends for lunch, and he didn’t say when he’d be back. He never did. She cried herself to sleep that night, and he didn’t come home until eight o’clock the next morning. And when he did he was still so desperately drunk from the night before that he never made it past the couch in the living room, on the way to their bedroom. She heard him come in, but he was unconscious by the time she found him.

And for the next month it was painfully plain how badly shaken he was by her little announcement. The idea of marriage was frightening enough to him, but the idea of a baby filled him with nothing less than terror. Peter tried to explain it to her one night when she had dinner alone with them, and by then, her unhappiness with Freddie was no secret between them. No one else was to know, but she had confided in both of them ever since she had told her sister about the baby.

“Some men are just terrified of that kind of responsibility. It means they have to grow up themselves. I have to admit, it scared me, too, the first time.” He glanced lovingly at Jane, and then soberly back at her sister. “And Freddie is not exactly famous for his ability to settle down. But maybe when he sees it, hell realize it’s not the dire threat he thought it was. They’re pretty harmless when they’re small. But it might be rough until you have the baby.” Peter was more sympathetic than he let on to her; he had frequently told his wife that he thought Freddie was a real bastard. But he didn’t want to tell Sarah what he thought. He preferred to offer her encouragement about the baby.

But her spirits stayed pretty low, and Freddie’s behavior and drinking only got worse. It took all of Jane’s ingenuity to get Sarah out at all. Finally, she got her out to go shopping. They went downtown to Bonwit Teller on Fifth Avenue when Sarah suddenly became very pale and stumbled as she grabbed blindly for her sister.

“Are you all right?” Jane looked instantly frightened when she saw her.

“I … I’m fine … I don’t know what happened.” She had had a terrible pain, but it only lasted for a moment.

“Why don’t we sit down.” Jane was quick to signal someone and ask for a chair and a drink of water, and by then Sarah was clutching at her hand again. There were beads of sweat on her brow, and her face was a grayish green as she looked up at her older sister.

“I’m so sorry … Jane, I don’t feel well at all….” And almost as she said the words, she fainted. The ambulance came as soon as it was called, and Sarah was carried out of Bonwit’s on a stretcher. She was conscious again by then, and Jane looked terrified as she ran along beside her. They let her ride to the hospital with Sarah in the ambulance, and Jane had asked the store to call Peter at his office, and their mother at home. And both arrived at the hospital only a few minutes later. Peter was more worried about Jane than anyone, and she clung to him and sobbed as her mother went in to see her sister. She was in with her for a long time, and when she came out, there were tears in her eyes and she looked at her eldest daughter.

“Is she all right?” Jane asked anxiously, and her mother quietly nodded and sat down. She had been a good mother to both of them. She was a quiet, unpretentious woman, with good taste and sound ideas, and values that had served both girls well, although the sensible lessons she’d taught hadn’t done much to help Sarah with Freddie.

“She’ll be all right,” Victoria Thompson said, as she reached out for both their hands, and Peter and Jane held her hands tightly. “She lost the baby … but she’s very young.” Victoria Thompson had lost a baby, too, her only son, before Sarah and Jane were born, but she had never shared that sorrow with either of her children. She had told Sarah now, hoping to comfort her and help her. “She’ll have another baby one day,” Victoria said sadly, but she was almost more concerned with what Sarah had blurted out about her life with Freddie. She had been crying terribly, and insisting that it was all her fault. She had moved a piece of furniture by herself the night before, but Freddie was never there to help her. And then the whole story had come tumbling out, about how little time he spent with her, how much he drank, how unhappy she was with him, and how unhappy he was about the baby.

It was several hours before the doctors would let them see her again, and Peter had gone back to the office by then, but he had made Jane promise she would go home at the end of the afternoon, to rest and recover from the day’s excitement. After all, she was pregnant too. And one miscarriage was bad enough.

They had tried to call Freddie, too, but he was out, as usual, and no one knew where he was, or when he would be returning. The maid was very sorry to hear about Mrs. Van Deering’s “accident,” and she promised to refer Mr. Van Deering to the hospital if he called or appeared, which everyone silently agreed was unlikely.

“It’s all my fault….” Sarah was sobbing when they saw her again. “I didn’t want it enough. … I was upset because Freddie was so annoyed, and now….” She sobbed on incoherently, and her mother took her in her arms and tried to stop her. All three women were crying by then, and they finally had to give Sarah a sedative to calm her. They were going to keep her in the hospital for several days, and Victoria told the nurses she would be spending the night with her daughter, and eventually she sent Jane home in a cab, and then she had a long talk on the phone in the lobby with her husband.

When Freddie came home that night, he found his father-in-law waiting for him in the living room, much to his amazement. Fortunately, he had had less to drink than usual, and was surprisingly sober, considering it was just after midnight. He had had a boring evening, and had finally decided to come home early.

“Good Lord! … sir … what are you doing here?” He blushed faintly, and then flashed him his broad, boyish smile. And then he realized that something had to be very wrong for Edward Thompson to be waiting for him at this hour in this apartment. “Is Sarah all right?”

“No, she isn’t.” He looked away for a moment, and then back at Freddie. There was no delicate way to say it. “She … uh … lost the child this morning, and is at Lenox Hill Hospital. Her mother is still with her.”

“She did?” He looked startled, and felt relieved, and hoped he wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t conceal it. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He said it as though she were someone else’s wife, and it had been someone else’s baby. “Is she all right?”

“I believe she’ll be able to have more children. What is apparently not all right, however, is that my wife tells me that things have been somewhat less than idyllic between the two of you. Normally, I would never interfere in my daughters’ married lives; however, in this rather unusual instance, with Sarah so … so … ill, it seems an opportune moment to discuss it with you. My wife tells me that Sarah has been hysterical all afternoon, and I find it rather significant, Frederick, that since early this morning, no one has been able to reach you. This cannot be a very happy life for her, or for you. Is there something we should know about now, or do you feel able to continue your marriage to my daughter rather more in the spirit in which you entered into the union?”

“I … I … of course … would you like a drink, Mr. Thompson?” He walked swiftly to where they kept their liquor and poured himself a liberal glass of Scotch, with a very small splash of water.

“I think not.” Edward Thompson sat expectantly, watching his son-in-law with displeasure, and there was no question in Freddie’s mind that the older man expected an answer. “Is there some problem that keeps you from behaving appropriately as her husband?”

“I … uh … well, sir, this baby thing was a little unexpected.”

“I understand, Frederick. Babies often are. Is there some serious misunderstanding with my daughter that I should know about?”

“Not at all. She’s a wonderful girl. I … I … uh … just needed a little time to adjust to being married.”

“And to working, too, I imagine.” He looked pointedly at Freddie, who had suspected that was coming.

“Yes, yes, of course. I thought I’d look into that after the baby.”

“You’ll be able to do that now a little more quickly, won’t you?”

“Of course, sir.”

Edward Thompson stood up, and he was a daunting vision of respectability as he looked over Freddie’s rather dishevelled state. “I’m sure you’ll be very anxious to visit Sarah as soon as possible tomorrow morning, won’t you, Frederick?”

“Absolutely, sir.” He followed him to the front door, desperate to see him out now.

“I’ll be picking her mother up at the hospital at ten o’clock. I’m sure I’ll see you there then, won’t I?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“Very well, Frederick.” He turned in the doorway and faced him for a last time. “Do we understand each other?” Very little had been said, but a great deal had been understood between them.

“I believe so, sir.”

“Thank you, Frederick. Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Freddie heaved a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him, and went to pour himself another Scotch before he went to bed, to think about what had happened to Sarah and the baby. He wondered what it must have been like, losing it, but didn’t want to ask himself too many questions. He knew very little about things like that, and had no desire to expand his education. He was sorry for her, and he was sure it must have been awful for her, but it was odd how little he felt about the baby, or for that matter, for Sarah. He had thought it would be so much fun to get married to her, parties all the time, someone to go out with whenever you wanted. He had never anticipated how shackled he would feel, how bored, how oppressed, how claustrophobic. There was nothing about being married he liked, not even Sarah. She was a beautiful girl, and she would have made the perfect wife for someone. She kept a beautiful home, cooked well, entertained beautifully, was intelligent and pleasant to be with, and he had even been excited by her physically at first. But now he just couldn’t even bear to think about her. The last thing in the world he wanted was to be married. And he was so relieved that she had lost the child. That would have been the icing on a cake he already knew was poisoned.

He showed up at the hospital the next morning, dutifully just before ten o’clock, so Mr. Thompson would find him there when he arrived to pick up his wife. Freddie looked somber in a dark suit and dark tie, and the truth was that he was extremely hung over. He had bought flowers for her, but she didn’t seem to care; she was lying in bed, staring out the window. She was holding her mother’s hand as he walked into the room, and for a moment he felt sorry for her. She turned her head to look at him, and without a word, tears rolled down her cheeks, and her mother quietly left the room, with a squeeze of Sarah’s hand, and a gentle touch on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Freddie,” she said softly, as she left, but she was wiser than he knew, and just from the look on his face, she already knew that he wasn’t.

“Are you mad at me?” Sarah asked him through her tears. She made no effort to get up, she just lay there. And she looked terrible. Her long, shining black hair was a tangled mess, and her face was the same color as the sheets, her lips looked almost blue. She had lost a lot of blood, and she was too weak to sit up. But all she did now was turn her face away from him, and he had no idea what to say to her.

“Of course not. Why would I be mad at you?” He moved a little closer to her, and moved her chin so that she would look at him again, but the pain in her eyes was almost more than he could bear. He wasn’t up to dealing with it, and she knew it.

“It was my fault. … I moved that stupid chest in our bedroom the other night, and … I don’t know … the doctor says these things happen ’cause they’re meant to.”

“See …” He shifted from one foot to the other, and watched her fold her hands and then unfold them, but he didn’t reach out to touch her. “Look … it’s better this way anyway. I’m twenty-four, you’re twenty, we’re not ready for a baby.”

She was silent for a long time, and then she looked at him as though seeing him for the first time. “You’re happy we lost it, aren’t you?” Her eyes bore into his until they almost caused him pain, as he tried to struggle with his headache.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re not sorry, are you?”

“I’m sorry for you.” It was true. She looked really awful.

“You never wanted this baby.”

“No, I didn’t.” He was honest with her, he felt that he at least owed her that much.

“Well, neither did I, thanks to you, and that’s probably why I lost it.” He didn’t know what to say to her, and a moment later her father came in with Jane, and Mrs. Thompson was busy making arrangements with the nurses. Sarah was going to stay for a few more days, and then she was going home to stay with her parents. And when she felt strong again, she would go back to Freddie at the apartment.

“You’re welcome to stay with us, of course.” Victoria Thompson smiled her welcome to him, but she was firm about not letting Sarah go home to the apartment with him. She wanted to keep an eye on her, and Freddie was visibly relieved that he didn’t have to.

He sent her red roses at the hospital the next day, and visited her once more, and he visited her daily during the week she stayed with her parents.

He never mentioned the baby to her. But he did his best to make conversation. He was surprised at how awkward he felt, being with her. It was as though overnight they had become strangers. The truth was that they always had been. It was just that now it was more difficult to hide it. He shared none of her grief with her. He only went to see her because he felt it his duty. And he knew her father would kill him if he didn’t make the effort.

He arrived at the Thompson house each day at noon, spent an hour with her, and then went out to have lunch with his cronies. And he very wisely never stopped in to see her in the evening. He was always worse for wear by then, and he was smart enough not to let Sarah or her parents see him. He was really sorry Sarah was so unhappy over losing the child, and she still looked dreadful. But he couldn’t bear thinking of it, or what she might expect from him emotionally, or worse yet, the prospect of another baby. It only made him drink more and run harder And by the time Sarah was ready to come home to him, he was in a downward spiral from which no one could save him. His drinking was so out of control that even some of his own drinking buddies were worried about him.

He nonetheless dutifully showed up at the Thompsons’ to take Sarah home, and the maid was waiting for them at their own apartment. Everything was clean and in order, although suddenly Sarah felt out of place there. It felt like someone else’s home and she felt like a stranger.

Freddie was a stranger there too. He had only been there to change his clothes since she’d lost the baby. He’d been out carousing every night, taking full advantage of the fact that she wasn’t there to see it. And now it was odd and very confining to have her at home again.

He spent the afternoon with her, and then told her that he had to have dinner with an old friend; he was talking to him about a job, and it was very important. He knew she wouldn’t object to it then. And she didn’t, although she was disappointed he wasn’t spending her first night at home with her. But she objected a great deal to the condition he was in when he came home at two o’clock that morning. The doorman had to help him in, and she was shocked when they rang the doorbell. Freddie was draped all over him, and he scarcely seemed to recognize her when he tried to focus on her blurred face, as the doorman assisted him into a chair in their bedroom. Freddie handed him a hundred-dollar bill, and offered profuse thanks for being a good sport and a great friend. Sarah watched in horror as Freddie made his way unsteadily to the bed and collapsed there unconscious. She stood looking at him for a long time, with tears in her eyes, before she left the room to sleep in their guest room. As she walked away from him, she felt an ache in her heart for the baby she had lost, and the husband she had never had, and never would now. She had finally understood that her marriage to Freddie would never be more than a pretense, an empty shell, and a source of endless grief and disappointment. It was a grim prospect as she slid into the guest-room bed alone, but she couldn’t hide from the truth anymore. He would never be anything more than a drunk and a playboy. And the worst of all was that she couldn’t imagine divorcing him. She couldn’t bear the thought of bringing disgrace to herself and her parents.

As she lay in bed in the guest room that night, she thought of the long, lonely road ahead of her. A lifetime of loneliness, with Freddie.

Chapter 3

Y the time Sarah had been home a week, she looked healthy and well, she was back on her feet, and out having lunch with her mother and sister. She seemed fine, although both women thought she was still a little quiet.

The three of them had lunch together at Jane’s apartment one afternoon, and their mother tried to ask Sarah casually about Freddie. She was still deeply concerned over everything Sarah had told her when she lost the baby.

“He’s fine,” Sarah said, as she turned away. As always, she said nothing about the nights she spent alone, or the condition Freddie was in when he returned in the morning. In fact, she barely spoke about it to him. She had accepted her fate, and she was determined to stay married to Freddie. If nothing else, it would have been too humiliating not to.

Freddie sensed a change in her, too, a kind of compliance, and acceptance of his appalling behavior. It was as though when the baby died, a piece of her died too. But Freddie didn’t question it, he just took full advantage of what appeared to be Sarah’s good nature. He came and went as he pleased, seldom bothered to take her anywhere, made no secret of the other women he saw, and drank from the moment he got up until he finally sank into unconsciousness at night, in their bedroom, or someone else’s

It was an incredibly unhappy time for her, but Sarah seemed determined to accept it. She kept her sorrows to herself as the months went on, and she said nothing to anyone. But her sister grew increasingly frantic about her each time she saw her. And as a result, Sarah saw her less and less often. There was a kind of numbness about Sarah now, an emptiness, and her eyes were filled with silent anguish. She had grown frighteningly thin since she’d lost the child, and that worried Jane too, but she also felt that Sarah was doing everything she could to avoid her.

“What’s happening to you?” Jane asked her finally in May. By then she herself was six months pregnant, and she had hardly seen Sarah in months, because Sarah couldn’t bear seeing her sister pregnant.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Don’t tell me that, Sarah! You’re like someone in a trance. What’s he doing to you? What’s going on?” Just looking at her, Jane was frantic. She also sensed how uncomfortable Sarah was with her, so most of the time she didn’t press herself on her sister. But she didn’t want to leave her to her own devices now. She was beginning to fear for Sarah’s sanity, or her life, at Freddie’s hands, and somebody had to, stop it.

“Don’t be silly. I’m fine.”

“Are things better than they were?”

“I suppose so.” She was intentionally vague, and her sister saw right through it.

Sarah was thinner and paler than she had been right after the miscarriage. She was profoundly depressed, and no one knew it. She kept assuring everyone that she was fine, that Freddie was behaving. She had even told her parents that he was looking for a job. It was all the same old nonsense, which no one believed anymore, not even Sarah.

And on their anniversary, her parents tacitly agreed to continue the farce with her, by celebrating their first anniversary with a little party for them at the house in Southampton.

At first, Sarah had tried to discourage them, but in the end it was easier just to let them do it. Freddie had promised her he’d be there. In fact, he thought it was a great idea. He wanted to go to Southampton for the entire weekend, and bring half a dozen friends with him. The house was certainly big enough, and Sarah asked her mother if it was all right, and her mother was quick to tell them that their friends were always welcome. But Sarah warned him that his friends had to behave if they stayed with them, she didn’t want them embarrassing her with her parents.

“What a dumb thing to say, Sarah,” he berated her. In the past month or two, he was slowly becoming increasingly vicious. She was never sure if it was due to the alcohol he consumed, or if he had truly begun to hate her. “You hate me, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t want your friends to get out of hand at my parents’.”

“Aren’t you the prim, prissy little thing. Poor darling, afraid we can’t behave at your parents’.” She wanted to tell him that he didn’t behave anywhere else, but she refrained. She was slowly resigning herself to her lot in life, knowing full well that she would be miserable with him forever. There would probably never be another baby, and even that didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did. She just lived day by day, and one day she would die, and it would be all over. The thought of divorcing him never even occurred to her, or never more than fleetingly, in any case. No one in her family had ever gotten divorced, and in her wildest dreams, she would never have thought of being the first one. The shame of it would have killed her, as well as her parents. “Don’t worry, Sarah, we’ll behave. Just don’t annoy my friends with that long, sad face of yours. You’re enough to spoil anyone’s fun at a party.” It had only been since being married to him, and losing the baby, that she seemed to have lost all her color, all her life, all her joie de vivre and excitement. She had always been lively and bright and happy as a young girl, and suddenly she seemed like a dead person, even to herself. It was Jane who always commented on it, but Peter and her parents told her not to worry, Sarah would be all right, because they wanted to believe that.

Two days before the Thompsons’ party was to take place, the Duke of Windsor married Wallis Simpson. They were married at the Château de Candé in France, amidst a maelstrom of press and international attention, all of which Sarah thought was tasteless and disgusting. She turned her thoughts back to her anniversary party instead, and instantly forgot the Windsors.

Peter and Jane and little James planned to spend the weekend in Southampton for the big event. The house looked beautiful, filled with flowers, and there was a tent over the lawn looking out over the ocean. The Thompsons had planned a beautiful party for Sarah and Freddie. On Friday night, all the young people were to go out with their friends, and they went to the Canoe Place Inn and had a wonderful time, talking and dancing and laughing. Even Jane, who was extremely pregnant, went, and so did Sarah, who felt as though she hadn’t smiled in years. Freddie even danced with her, and for a few minutes he looked as though he were going to kiss her. Eventually, Peter and Jane and Sarah and some of the others went back to the Thompsons’ afterwards, and Freddie and his close friends went out to do a little carousing. Sarah grew quiet again then, but she didn’t say anything as she rode back to the house with Jane and Peter. Her sister and brother-in-law were still in high spirits and seemed not to notice her silence.

The next day dawned sunny and beautiful, and later, the sunset over Long Island Sound was spectacular, as the band struck up and the Thompsons began greeting their guests, who were there to celebrate Sarah and Freddie. Sarah looked remarkable in a shimmering white gown, which clung to her figure enticingly and made her look like a young goddess. Her dark hair was piled high on her head, and she moved through the crowd with quiet grace as she greeted her friends and her parents’ guests, and everyone commented on how she had matured in the past year, and how much more beautiful she was even than at her wedding. She was in sharp contrast to her warmly rotund sister, Jane, who was looking touchingly maternal in a turquoise silk dress that covered her voluminously, and she was good-natured about her lack of figure.

“Mother said I could wear the tent, but I liked this color better,” she joked with an old friend, and Sarah smiled as she drifted past them. She looked better, and happier, than she had in a long time, but Jane was still very worried about her.

“Sarah’s gotten so thin.”

“She … she was sick earlier this year.” She had lost even more weight since the miscarriage, and Jane sensed, although Sarah didn’t admit it to her, that she was still wracked with guilt and grief over losing the baby.

“No babies yet?” people asked her repeatedly. “Oh, you two will have to get started!” Or finished. She only smiled at them, and after the first hour, she suddenly realized that she hadn’t seen Freddie since the party started. He had been near the bar with his friends an hour ago, and then she had lost track of them as she greeted the guests, standing next to her father She asked the butler eventually, and he said that Mister Van Deering had left in a car a few minutes before, with some of his friends, and they were heading toward Southampton.

“They probably went to get something, Miss Sarah,” he said, looking at her kindly.

“Thank you, Charles.” He had been their butler there for years, and he stayed on in the winter when they went back to the city. She had known him since she was a child, and she dearly loved him.

She started to worry about what Freddie was doing. He and his friends had probably gone to one of the local bars in Hampton Bays to have a few quick, stiff drinks, before returning to the gentility of her parents’ party. But she wondered just how drunk they would be when they got back, and if anyone would notice their absence in the meantime.

“Where’s that handsome husband of yours?” an elderly friend of her mother’s asked, and she assured her that he’d be back downstairs in a minute. He’d gone up to get a wrap for her, she explained, and the friend thought his attentiveness was very touching.

“Something wrong?” Jane sidled up to her, and asked in an undertone. She had been watching her for the past half hour and knew her too well to be convinced by the smile she was wearing.

“No. Why?”

“You look like someone just put a snake in your purse.” Sarah couldn’t help but laugh at the description. For a minute, it reminded her of their childhood, and she almost forgave Jane for being pregnant. It was just going to be so hard to see her with her baby two months from now, knowing that hers was gone, and she might never have one. She and Freddie had never made love again since the miscarriage. “So, where’s the snake?” Jane asked.

“Actually, he’s out.” The two sisters laughed for the first time in a long time at Sarah’s comment.

“That isn’t what I meant … but actually, it’s pretty apt. Who did he go out with?”

“I don’t know. But Charles says they went out half an hour ago, headed toward town.”

“What does that mean?” Jane looked worried for her. What a headache that boy must be to her, even more than they all suspected, if he couldn’t even behave for a single evening at her parents’.

“Maybe trouble. Booze, in any case. A great deal too much of it. With any luck, he’ll hold it pretty well … until later.”

“Mother will really enjoy that.” Jane smiled as they stood together and watched the crowd. People seemed to be having a good time, which was at least something, even if Sarah wasn’t.

“Father will actually enjoy it more.” They both laughed again, and Sarah took a deep breath and looked at her. “I’m sorry I’ve been so awful to you for the past few months. I just … I don’t know … it’s hard for me to think about your baby….” There were tears in her eyes as she looked away again, and her older sister put an arm around her.

“I know. And you haven’t done anything except worry me to death. I wish I could do something to make you happy.”

“I’m all right.”

“Your nose is growing, Pinocchio.”

“Oh, shut up.” Sarah grinned at her again, and they went back to the other guests shortly after. By the time they sat down to dinner, Freddie was still not back yet. His absence, and that of his close friends, was instantly noticed as the guests sat down to dinner in their appointed places at tables on the lawn, and Freddie’s seat of honor, to the right of his mother-in-law, was visibly vacant. But before anyone could make comment, or Mrs. Thompson could ask Sarah where her husband had gone, there was a frantic sound of honking, and Freddie and four of his friends drove across the lawn in his Packard Twelve Phaeton, shouting and laughing and waving. They drove right up to the tables, as everyone stared, and stepped out of the convertible with three local girls, one of them adoringly wrapped around Freddie. As they approached the assembled company, it became obvious that the ladies were not just local girls, but women who had been paid for their services for the evening.

The five young men were blind drunk, and it was evident that they thought the stunt the funniest that had ever been accomplished. But the young women looked faintly unnerved as they looked at the well-heeled, and clearly shocked, people around them. The girl with Freddie was nervously trying to convince him to take them back to town, but by then all hell had broken loose around them. A group of waiters was trying to remove the car, Charles, the butler, was trying to remove the girls, and Freddie and his friends were stumbling everywhere, tripping over the other guests and embarrassing themselves, and Freddie was the worst of all. He absolutely would not let go of the girl they had brought back with them. And without thinking, or seeing clearly, Sarah stood up, watching him, tears brimming in her eyes, remembering their wedding only a year before, all the hope she had had then, and the nightmare it had become since her marriage. The girl was only a symbol of the horrors of the past year, and suddenly it all seemed unreal to her, as she stood there in silent anguish and watched him. It was like watching an absolutely ghastly movie. Only the worst part was, she was in it.

“What’s the matter, babe?”—he called across several tables to her—“Don’t you want to meet my sweetie?” He laughed at the look on Sarah’s face, and Victoria Thompson began to make her way swiftly across the lawn to her younger child, who looked as though she were rooted to the spot in shock, frozen beyond reason. “Sheila,” he continued to shout, “that’s my wife … and these are her parents.” He waved an arm grandly, as people watched in amazement. But by then Edward Thompson had swung into action. He and two waiters removed Freddie and the girl as firmly and swiftly as they could, and the other young men were escorted away, with the ladies, in the company of an army of waiters.

Freddie was a little more belligerent as his father-in-law led him into the little beach cottage they used to change clothes in. “What’s the matter, Mr. Thompson? Isn’t this party for me?”

“No, as a matter of fact, it’s not. It never should have been. We should have thrown you out months ago. But I can assure you, Frederick, that all of that will be taken care of very quickly. You are leaving here immediately, we will send your things to you next week, and you will be hearing from my attorneys on Monday morning. Your years of torturing my daughter are over. Please do not return to the apartment. Is that clear?” Edward Thompson’s voice boomed in the tiny cottage. But Freddie was too drunk to be frightened.

“My, my … sounds like Papa is a little upset! Don’t tell me that you don’t have a few girlies too from time to time. Come on, sir … I’ll share this one with you.” He opened the door, and they both saw that the girl was just outside, waiting for Freddie.

Edward Thompson began to shake as he grabbed Freddie by the lapels and almost lifted him off the ground with the strength of his fury. “If I ever see you again, you little piece of filth, I will kill you. Now, get out of here, and stay away from Sarah!” he roared, and the local woman quaked as she watched them.

“Yes, sir.” Freddie performed a drunken bow, offered his arm to his prostitute, and five minutes later, he and his friends and their “ladies” were gone, as was Sarah from the party. She sat in her bedroom sobbing, with her sister, Jane, insisting that it was all for the best, that it had been a nightmare from the first, that maybe it was all her fault because she had lost the baby, maybe that would have changed him. Some of it made sense, and some of it didn’t, and all of it washed up from the bottom of her soul as she clung to her older sister. Her mother came in briefly to see how she was, but she had to return to her guests, and she was satisfied that Jane was handling the situation. The evening had been a terrible fiasco.

It was a long night for all of them. But everyone ate as quickly as they could, a few brave souls danced, and they all very politely appeared to overlook what had happened, and then left early. By ten o’clock, all the guests were gone, and Sarah still lay sobbing in her bedroom.

The next morning in the Thompson home was a serious one, as the entire family gathered in the drawing room and Edward Thompson explained to Sarah what he had said to Freddie the night before, and he looked at her very firmly.

“It’s your decision, Sarah,” he said, looking unhappy, “but I would like you to divorce him.”

“Father, I can’t… it would be terrible for everyone.” She looked around at all of them, fearing the embarrassment and the shame she would bring them.

“It will be much worse for you if you go back to him. Now I understand what you’ve been going through.” As he thought of it, he was almost grateful that she had lost the baby. He looked at his daughter sadly then. “Sarah, do you love him?”

She hesitated for a long time, and then shook her head, looking down at her hands tightly folded in her lap, and speaking in a whisper. “I don’t even know why I married him.” She looked up at them again. “I thought I loved him then, but I didn’t even know him.”

“You made a terrible mistake. You were misled by him, Sarah. That can happen to anyone. Now we have to solve the problem for you. I want you to let me do that.” Edward’s resolve never wavered for a moment, as the others nodded their agreement.

“How?” She felt lost, like a child again, and she kept thinking of all the people who had seen him make a fool of her the night before. It was almost beyond thinking. It was mortifying … bringing prostitutes to her parents’ home…. She had cried all night, and she dreaded what people would say, and the terrible humiliation to her parents.

“I want you to leave everything to me.” And then he thought of something else. “Do you want the apartment in New York?”

She looked at him and shook her head. “I don’t want anything. I just want to come home to you and Mama.” Tears filled her eyes as she said the words, and her mother gently patted her shoulder.

“Well, you are,” he said in an emotional tone, as his wife dried her eyes. Peter and Jane held hands tightly. The whole thing had upset everyone, but they were all relieved now for Sarah.

“What about you and Mama?” She looked at them both mournfully.

“What about us?”

“Won’t you be ashamed if I get divorced? I feel like that terrible Simpson woman—everyone will talk about me, and about you too.” Sarah started to cry and buried her face in her hands. She was still a very young girl, and the shock of the last months still overwhelmed her.

Her mother was quick to take her in her arms and try to soothe her. “What are people going to say, Sarah? That he was a terrible husband, that you were very unlucky? What have you done wrong? Absolutely nothing. You have to accept that. You have done nothing wrong. Frederick is the one who should be ashamed, not you.” Once again, the rest of the family nodded their agreement.

“But people will be horrified. No one in the family has ever been divorced.”

“So what? I’d rather have you safe and happy, than living that nightmare with Freddie Van Deering.” Victoria felt her own guilt and pain at not having realized how bad things were for her. Only Jane had suspected how great her sister’s distress was, and no one else had really listened. They had all thought her unhappiness was due to the miscarriage.

Sarah still looked woebegone when Peter and Jane went back to New York later that afternoon, and the next morning, when her father left to meet with his lawyers. Her mother had decided to stay in Southampton with her, and Sarah was emphatic about not wanting to return to New York for the moment. She wanted to stay there and hide forever, she said, and more than anything, she didn’t want to see Freddie. She had agreed to the divorce her father had suggested to her, but she dreaded all the horror she assumed would come with it. She had read about divorces in the newspapers, and they always sounded complicated and terribly embarrassing and unpleasant. She assumed that Freddie would be furious with her, but she was stunned when he called her late Monday afternoon, after he had spoken to her father’s attorney.

“It’s okay, Sarah. I think this is all for the best. For both of us. We just weren’t ready.” We? She couldn’t believe he had actually said that. He didn’t even blame himself, he was just happy to be free of her, and the responsibilities he had never bothered to face anyway, like their baby.

“You’re not angry?” Sarah was amazed, and hurt.

“Not at all, babe.”

And then a long silence. “Are you glad?”

Another silence. “You love asking those questions, don’t you, Sarah? What difference does it make what I feel? We made a mistake, and your father is helping us out of it. He’s a nice man, and I think we’re doing the right thing. I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble…” Like a bad weekend, or a rotten afternoon. He had no idea what the last year had been like for her. No one did. He was just happy he was getting out of it, that much was obvious as she listened.

“What are you going to do now?” She hadn’t figured out that much for herself yet. It was all too new and too confusing. All she knew was that she didn’t want to go back to New York again. She didn’t want to see anyone, or have to explain anything about the demise of her marriage to Freddie Van Deering.

“I thought I’d go to Palm Springs for a few months. Or maybe Europe for the summer.” He mused, making plans as he talked.

“That sounds like fun.” It was like talking to a stranger, and that made her even sadder. They had never known each other at all, it was all a game, and she had lost. They both had. But only he didn’t seem to mind it.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, as though to an old friend or a schoolmate he wouldn’t be seeing for a while, instead of never.

“Thanks.” She sat staring woodenly at the phone as she held the receiver and listened to him.

“I’d better go now, Sarah.” She nodded in silence. “Sarah?”

“Yes … I’m sorry … thank you for calling.” Thank you for a terrible year, Mr. Van Deering…. Thank you for breaking my heart…. She wanted to ask him if he’d ever loved her, but she didn’t dare, and she thought she knew the answer anyway. It was obvious that he hadn’t. He didn’t love anyone, not even himself, and certainly not Sarah.

Her mother watched her grieve for the next month, and on into August and September. The only thing that had caught her attention in July was when Amelia Earhart disappeared, and a few days after that when the Japanese invaded China. But for the most part, all she could think about was her divorce, and the shame and guilt she felt about it. She grew even worse for a time when Jane’s baby girl was born, but she drove into New York with her mother to see Jane at the hospital, and insisted on driving back to Southampton by herself that night after she’d seen her. The baby was very sweet, and they had named her Marjorie, but Sarah was anxious to be alone again. She spent most of her time now dwelling on the past and trying to figure out what had happened to her. It was much simpler than she thought, actually. She had simply married someone she didn’t really know, and he had turned out to be a terrible husband. End of story. But she insisted somehow on blaming herself, and she became convinced that if she dropped out of sight, and stayed away, people would forget that she existed, and wouldn’t punish her parents for her sins. So for their sakes, and her own, she insisted on literally disappearing.

“You can’t do this for the rest of your life, Sarah,” her father said sternly after Labor Day, when they were moving back to New York for the winter. The legal proceedings were going well. Freddie had gone to Europe as he had said he might, but his attorney was handling everything for him and was cooperating fully with the Thompsons. The hearing was set for November, and the divorce would be final almost exactly a year later. “You’ve got to come back to New York,” her father urged. They didn’t want to leave her there, like a discarded relative they were ashamed of. But as crazy as it was, that was how she saw herself, and she even resisted Jane’s pleas to return when she came out to Long Island to see her in October with the baby.

“I don’t want to go back to New York, Jane. I’m perfectly happy here”.

“With Charles and three old servants, freezing to death on the Long Island Sound all winter? Sarrie, don’t be stupid. Come home. You’re twenty-one years old. You can’t give up your life now. You have to start over.”

“I don’t want to,” she said quietly, refusing to pay any attention to her sister’s baby.

“Don’t be crazy.” Jane looked exasperated with the stubbornness of her younger sister.

“What do you know, dammit? You have a husband who loves you, and two children. You’ve never been a burden, or an embarrassment or a disgrace to anyone. You’re the perfect wife, daughter, sister, mother. What do you know about my life? Absolutely nothing!” She looked furious, and she was, but not at Jane, and she knew it. She was furious at herself, and the fates … and at Freddie. And then she was instantly contrite as she looked at her sister sadly. “I’m sorry, I just want to be alone out here.” She couldn’t even really explain it.

“Why?” Jane couldn’t understand it. She was young and beautiful, and she wasn’t the only woman alive to get divorced, but she acted as though she had been convicted of murder.

“I don’t want to see anyone. Can’t you understand that?”

“For how long?”

“Maybe forever. All right? Is that long enough? Does that make it clear to you?” Sarah hated answering all her questions.

“Sarah Thompson, you’re crazy.” Her father had arranged for her to take her own name back as soon as he filed for the separation.

“I have a right to do what I want with my life. I can go be a nun if I want to,” she said stubbornly to her sister.

“You’ll have to become a Catholic first.” Jane grinned, but Sarah didn’t find it amusing. They had been Episcopalians since birth. And Jane was beginning to think that Sarah was a little crazy. Or maybe she’d come out of it after a while. It was what they all hoped, but it no longer seemed certain.

But Sarah remained firm in her refusal to move back to New York. Her mother had long since picked up her things from the apartment in New York and stored them all in boxes, which Sarah insisted she didn’t even want to see now. She went to her divorce hearing in November wearing a black suit and a funereal face. She looked beautiful and afraid and sat through it stoically until it was over. And as soon as it was, she drove herself back to Long Island.

She went for long walks on the beach every day, even on the bitterest cold days, with the wind whipping her face until it felt as though it were bleeding. She read endlessly, and wrote letters to her mother and Jane and some of her oldest friends, but in truth she still had no desire to see them.

They all celebrated Christmas in Southampton and Sarah hardly talked to anyone. The only time she mentioned the divorce was to her mother, when they heard a news story over the radio about the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. She felt an unhappy kinship with Wally Simpson. But her mother assured her again that she and the Simpson woman had nothing in common.

When spring came, she looked better again finally, healthier, rested, she had gained back some weight, and her eyes were alive. But by then she was talking about finding a farmhouse on Long Island somewhere, in the remoter parts, and trying to rent it, or perhaps even buy one.

“That’s ridiculous,” her father growled when she suggested it to him. “I can understand perfectly well that you were unhappy over what happened, and needed some time to recover here, but I’m not going to let you bury yourself on Long Island for the rest of your life, like a hermit. You can stay here until the summer, and in July, your mother and I are taking you to Europe.” He had decided it just the week before and his wife was thrilled, and even Jane thought it was a splendid idea, and just what Sarah needed.

“I won’t go.” She looked at him stubbornly, but she looked healthy and strong and more beautiful than ever. It was time for her to go back out in the world again, whether she knew it or not. And if she wouldn’t go of her own accord, they were prepared to force her.

“You will go, if we tell you to.”

“I don’t want to run into Freddie,” she said weakly.

“He’s been in Palm Beach all winter.”

“How do you know?” She was curious, wondering if her father had spoken to him.

“I’ve spoken to his attorney.”

“I don’t want to go to Europe anyway.”

“That’s unfortunate. Because you can go willingly, or unwillingly. But in either case, you’re going.” She had stormed away from the table then, and gone for a long walk on the beach, but when she returned, her father was waiting for her just outside the cottage. It had almost broken his heart to see her grieve over the past year, over the marriage that never was, the child she had lost, the mistakes she had made, and her bitter disappointment. And she was surprised to see him waiting for her, as she came up off the beach, through the tall dune grass.

“I love you, Sarah.” It was the first time her father had ever said that to her, in just that way, and it reached her heart like an arrow covered with the balm she needed to heal her. “Your mother and I love you very much. We may not know how to help you, to make up to you for everything that happened, but we want to try … please let us do that.”

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at him, and he pulled her into his arms and held her there for a long time as she cried on his shoulder. “I love you too, Papa. … I love you too…. I’m so sorry….”

“Don’t be sorry anymore, Sarah…. Just be happy…. Be the girl you used to be before this all happened.”

“I’ll try.” She pulled out of his arms for a moment to look at him and saw that he was crying too. “I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble.”

“That’s right!” He Smiled through his tears. “You should be!”

They both laughed, and they walked slowly back to the house, arm in arm, as he silently prayed they would be able to get her to Europe.

Chapter 4

HE Queen Mary sat proudly at the dock, in her berth at Pier 90 on the Hudson River. There were signs of festivity everywhere. Large, handsome trunks were still being taken on board, huge deliveries of flowers were being made, and champagne was liberally being poured in all the first-class cabins. The Thompsons arrived in the midst of it all with their hand luggage, their trunks having been sent on ahead. Victoria Thompson was wearing a beautiful white suit by Claire McCardell. The large straw hat she wore went perfectly with it, and she looked happy and young as she stepped onto the gangplank just in front of her husband. This was going to be an exciting trip for them. They hadn’t been to Europe in several years, and they were looking forward to seeing old friends, particularly in the South of France and England.

Sarah had made a terrible fuss about going with them, and had flatly refused to go, almost until the end. And finally, it was Jane who had made the difference. She had gotten into an out-and-out shouting match with her younger sister, calling her names, accusing her of being cowardly, and telling her that it was not her divorce that was ruining their parents’ lives, but her refusal to pick up the pieces again, and that they were all damn sick of it, and she’d better pull up her socks, and quickly. The motives behind the attack didn’t really occur to Sarah as she listened to her, but she was overcome with a wave of fury at what Jane said to her, and the very anger she felt seemed to restore her.

“Fine, then!” she shouted back at Jane, tempted to throw a vase at her. “I’ll go on their damn trip if you think it’s so important to them. But none of you can run my life for me. And when I come back, I’m moving to Long Island permanently, and I don’t want to hear any more garbage from anyone about what it’s doing to their lives. This is my life, and I’m going to live it the way I goddamn well want to!” Her black hair flew around her head like ravens’ wings as she tossed her head, and her green eyes flashed angrily at her older sister. “What right do any of you have to decide what’s good for me?” she said, overwhelmed by fresh waves of outrage. “What do you know about my life?”

“I know you’re wasting it!” Jane didn’t budge an inch. “You’ve spent the last year hiding out here like a hundred-year-old recluse, and making Mother and Father miserable with your gloomy face. Nobody wants to watch you do that to yourself. You’re not even twenty-two years old, not two hundred!”

“Thank you for the reminder. And if looking at me is so painful for all of you, I’ll be sure to move out even faster when I get back. I want to find my own place anyway. I told Father that months ago.”

“Yeah, right, a falling-down barn in Vermont, or a collapsing farmhouse in the wilds of Long Island. … Is there any other punishment you can find to heap on your head? What about sackcloth and ashes? Had you thought of that, or is that too subtle for you? You’d rather go for the big time, something miserable, like a house with a hole in the roof and no heating, so Mother can worry about your getting pneumonia every year. I have to agree, it’s a great touch. Sarah, you’re beginning to make me sick,” she raged at her, and Sarah had answered by sweeping out of the room and slamming the door so hard that some of the paint fell off the hinges.

“She’s a spoiled brat!” Jane announced to them afterwards, still fuming. “I don’t know why you put up with her. Why don’t you just force her to go back to New York and live like a normal human being?” Jane was beginning to lose patience with her by spring. She had suffered enough by then, and she felt that Sarah owed it to all of them to at least make an effort to recover. Her estranged husband certainly had. There had been an announcement in the New York Times in May that he was engaged to Emily Astor. “How nice for him,” Jane had said sarcastically when she’d heard, but Sarah had said not a word about it to anyone, although her family knew it must have hurt her deeply. Emily was one of her oldest friends, and a very distant cousin.

“What do you suggest I do to make her live like a normal human being?” her father asked. “Sell the house? Take her back to New York in a straitjacket? Tie her to the hood of the car? She’s a grown woman, Jane, and to a certain extent, we can’t control her.”

“She’s damn lucky you put up with her. I think it’s high time she pulled herself together.”

“You have to be patient,” her mother had said quietly, and Jane had gone back to New York that afternoon, without seeing Sarah again. Sarah had gone off for a long walk on the beach, and then had driven off in the old Ford her father kept there for Charles, the butler.

But in spite of her determination and stubbornness about remaining apart from society, Jane’s words had obviously reached her In June she quietly agreed to join her parents in Europe. She told them at dinner one night, and tried to pass it off casually, but her mother stared at her in amazement. And her father clapped his hands when he heard the news. He had been just about to cancel their reservations, and give in to her refusal to go with them. He had decided that dragging her around Europe as an unwilling prisoner would have been no treat for anyone, not for them, and certainly not for Sarah.

He didn’t dare ask her what had convinced her finally. They all credited Jane with Sarah’s change of heart, although, of course, no one said a word to Sarah. As Sarah stepped out of the car at Pier 90 that afternoon, she looked tall and slim, and very serious in a plain black dress, and a very severe black hat that had once been her mother’s. She looked beautiful but austere, her face pale, her eyes huge, her dark hair pulled tightly back, her perfect features free of makeup. And as people looked at her, they noticed how beautiful she was, and how sad she looked, like a strikingly pretty, much-too-young widow.

“Couldn’t you have worn something a little happier, dear?” her mother said to her as they left the house, but Sarah only shrugged. She had agreed to go to humor them, but no one had said she had to have a good time, or look as though she were going to.

She had found the perfect house on Long Island before she left, an old deserted farm, with a tiny cottage sorely in need of repair, near the ocean, on ten untended acres. She had sold her wedding ring to put a deposit on it, and she was going to speak to her father when they got back about buying it for her. She knew that she would never marry again, she wanted her own place to live, and the farmhouse in Glass Hollow suited her to perfection.

They had ridden to Pier 90 that morning in silence. She was thinking about the trip, wondering why she had agreed to come. But if going with them made them feel that she had at least tried, then maybe her father would be inclined to help her buy the little farm when they returned If that was the case, then it was worth it. She loved the idea of fixing up the old house anyway, and she could hardly wait to do it.

“You’re very quiet, dear,” her mother had said, gently patting her arm in the car. They were so pleased that she was going with them. It had given them all hope, mostly because none of them had an idea how determined she was to resume her solitary life as soon as she got back. Had they known, it would have saddened them deeply.

“I was just thinking about the trip.”

Her father smiled, and chatted quietly to her mother about the telegrams he had sent to friends. They had a busy two months planned, in Cannes, Monaco, Paris, Rome, and, of course, London.

Her mother was still telling her about some of their oldest friends, whom Sarah didn’t know, as they walked up the gangplank, and several people turned to watch them. Sarah was a striking figure as she moved just ahead of them, the black hat concealing one eye mysteriously, the other peeking out behind a veil, and her face so serious and young. She almost looked like a Spanish princess. It made people wonder who she was as they stared at her. One woman said she was certain she was a movie star, and was sure she had seen her somewhere. It would have amused Sarah no end if she could have heard them. She paid no attention at all to the people they passed, the elegant clothes, the careful coiffures, the impressive show of jewels, the pretty women and handsome men. She was only interested in finding her cabin. And when she did, Peter and Jane were waiting for them there, with Marjorie and little James, who kept racing around the deck just outside the stateroom. At two and a half, he had become a little terror. Marjorie had taken her first step a few days before and was teetering uncertainly around the cabin. Sarah was happy to see them there, and especially Jane. Her anger at her had evaporated weeks ago, and the two were good friends again, particularly once Sarah had announced that she was going.

They had brought two bottles of champagne with them, and the steward poured yet another bottle liberally as they all stood around Sarah’s stateroom and chatted. Her room connected to her parents’ suite of rooms through a large living room big enough to accommodate a baby grand piano, which James discovered only moments later, and he began to pound on it happily as his mother begged him not to.

“Do you suppose we should put a sign outside the door to reassure people that James isn’t going with you?” his father asked with a dubious grin as he watched him.

“It’s good for his musical abilities.” His grandfather smiled indulgently. “Besides, it’ll give us something to remember him by for the next two months, a nice loud send-off.”

Jane noticed how severely her sister was dressed, but she had to admit that she looked beautiful anyway. She had always been the more striking of the two, combining both their parents’ looks. Jane had their mother’s softer, less defined, gentle blond beauty. It was her father who had the dark Irish looks Sarah had inherited and somehow improved on.

“I hope you have a good time,” Jane said with a quiet smile, relieved that Sarah was actually going. They all wanted her to make new friends, see new things, and then come home and get back in touch with her old friends. Her life had been so lonely for the past year, so bleak, and incredibly empty. Or at least that was how it looked to Jane. She couldn’t imagine living as Sarah had done for the past year. But then again, she couldn’t even begin to imagine a life without Peter.

They left the ship as its whistle began to blow, and the smokestacks roared to life while stewards circulated in the halls, playing chimes and urging people to go ashore if they were going to. There was a flurry of kisses and hugs, and people calling to each other everywhere, last gulps of champagne, last embraces, a sprinkling of tears, and then finally the last of the visitors had gone down the gangplank. The Thompsons stood on the deck and waved to Peter and Jane, as James squirmed in his father’s arms, and Marjorie waved as Jane held her. There were tears in Victoria Thompson’s eyes as she looked at them. Two months was going to be a long time away from them, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make if it was going to help Sarah.

“Well,” Edward Thompson said with a satisfied smile. All had gone well as far as he was concerned. They had just left the dock, and they were on their way. They were actually taking Sarah to Europe. “What shall we do now? A walk around the deck? A visit to the shops?” He was looking forward to the trip and to seeing some of his old friends again. And he was thrilled that they had succeeded in convincing Sarah to go to Europe. It was a good time to go. The political situation there had been increasingly tense recently. Who knew what might happen later. If there was a war in a year or two, this might be their last chance to go to Europe.

“I think I’ll unpack,” Sarah said quietly.

“The stewardess will do all of that for you,” her mother explained, but Sarah didn’t care.

“I’d rather see to it myself,” she said, looking bleak in spite of the festive surroundings. There were balloons and streamers and confetti everywhere, from the sailing.

“Shall we meet you in the dining room for lunch?”

“I might take a nap.” She tried to smile at them, but she was thinking how difficult the next two months would be, constantly being with them. She had become used to licking her wounds alone, and although most of the wounds seemed to have healed, the scars were still evident, and she preferred keeping them to herself. She couldn’t imagine being with them night and day, and enduring their constant efforts to cheer her. She had no desire whatsoever to be cheered. She had come to like her solitary life, and her dark thoughts, and her lonely moments. It was not the way she had been before, but it was who and what she had become, thanks to Freddie Van Deering.

“Wouldn’t you rather get some air?” her mother persisted. “You might get seasick if you spend too much time in your cabin.”

“If I do, I’ll come out for a walk then. Don’t worry, Mother. I’m fine,” she said, but neither of her parents was convinced as she went back to her cabin.

“What are we going to do with her, Edward?” Her mother looked glum as they took a walk around the deck, glancing at the other passengers, and then out to sea, thinking about Sarah.

“She’s not easy. I’ll grant you that. I wonder if she’s really as unhappy as she seems, or if she just fancies herself a romantic figure.” He wasn’t sure he understood her anymore, or that he ever had. Sometimes both of his daughters were a mystery to him.

“Sometimes I think being miserable has just become a habit,” Victoria answered him. “I think at first she was genuinely distraught, and hurt, and disappointed, and she was embarrassed about the scandal Freddie had caused. But you know, in the last six months I’ve gotten the feeling that she actually enjoys her life like this. I think she likes being alone, and being something of a recluse. I don’t know why, but she does. She was always very gregarious when she was young, and much more mischievous than Jane. But it’s as though she’s forgotten all that and become someone else now.”

“Well, she’d better become the old Sarah again, and damn soon. This reclusive nonsense of hers just isn’t healthy.” He completely agreed with his wife. He, too, had the feeling that in the past few months she had come to enjoy it. There was something more peaceful about her than there had been, and she seemed more mature, but she certainly didn’t seem happy.

As they went to lunch afterwards, Sarah was sitting quietly in her stateroom, writing a letter to Jane. She never ate lunch anymore. She usually went for a long walk on the beach instead, which is why she stayed so thin. But it was no real sacrifice to her, she was very seldom hungry.

Her parents stopped by to see her after lunch, and found her stretched out on her bed, still in the black dress, but with her hat and shoes off. Her eyes were closed, and she didn’t move, but her mother suspected that she wasn’t really sleeping. They left her alone, and came back to find her again an hour later, and she had changed into a gray sweater and slacks, and she was reading a book in a comfortable chair, oblivious of her surroundings.

“Sarah? A walk on the promenade deck? The shops are fabulous.” Victoria Thompson was determined to be persistent.

“Maybe later.” Sarah never took her eyes off her book, and when she heard the door close, she assumed her mother had left the cabin. She raised her eyes then with a sigh, and gave a start when she found herself looking right at her mother. “Oh … I thought you had gone.”

“I know you did. Sarah, I want you to come outside for a walk with me. I am not going to spend this entire trip begging you to come out of your room. You’ve decided to come, now try and do it gracefully, or you’ll ruin it for everyone, particularly your father.” They were always so worried about each other, it amused Sarah sometimes, but right now it annoyed her.

“Why? Why does my presence every moment of the day make any difference? I like being alone. Why does that upset everyone so much?”

“Because it’s not normal. It’s not healthy for a girl your age to be alone all the time. You need people and life and excitement.”

“Why? Who decided that for me? Who is it that said that if you are about to turn twenty-two, you need excitement? I don’t need excitement. I had excitement, and I don’t ever want it again. Why can’t all of you understand that?”

“I do understand, dear. But what you had was not ’excitement,’ it was disappointment, it was a violation of everything that’s decent and good, everything you ever believed in. It was a terrible experience, and we never want you to go through that again. No one wants that to happen to you. But you must go out in the world again. You absolutely have to, or you’ll wither and die, spiritually, inside, where it matters.”

“How do you know that?” Sarah looked distressed by what her mother was saying to her.

“Because I see it in your eyes,” Victoria said wisely. “I see someone dying in there, someone aching and lonely and sad. Someone calling for help, and you won’t let her out so she can get it.” As Sarah listened, her eyes filled with tears, and her mother walked to where she sat and hugged her gently. “I love you very much, Sarah. Please try … please try to come out of yourself again. Trust us … we won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“But you don’t know what it was like.” Sarah began to whimper like a child, ashamed of the emotions, and her inability to control them. “It was so awful … and so wrong. … He was never there, and when he was, it was.” She couldn’t go on, she just cried as she shook her head, bereft of words to describe the feelings, as her mother stroked her long silky hair and held her.

“I know, darling … I know … I can only imagine what it was like. I know it must have been awful. But it’s over And you’re not Your life is just beginning. Don’t give up before you’ve given it a chance. Look around, feel the breeze, smell the flowers, let yourself live again Please …”

Sarah clung to her as she listened to her mother’s words, and finally told her how she felt, as she continued to cry. “I can’t anymore… I’m too afraid….”

“I’m right here with you.” But they hadn’t been able to help her before—until the end, when they’d gotten her out of it But they couldn’t have made Freddie behave, or come home at night, or give up his girlfriends and his prostitutes, and they hadn’t been able to save the baby. She had learned the hard way that there were times when no one else could help you, not even your parents.

“You have to try again, sweetheart. Just in tiny little steps. Father and I will be right here with you” She pulled away from her then, and looked into her daughter’s eyes. “We love you very, very much, Sarah, and we don’t want you hurt again either.”

Sarah closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “I’ll try.” She opened her eyes again then and looked at her mother. “I really will.” And then she panicked. “But what if I can’t do it?”

“Can’t do what?” Her mother smiled at her. “Can’t take a walk with me and Father? Can’t have dinner with us? Can’t meet a few of our friends? I think you can. We won’t ask for too much, and if it really is more than you can do, then you’ll tell us.” It was as though she had become an invalid, and in some ways, she had. Freddie had crippled her, and she knew it The question now was if she could be healed, or helped; if she would recover. Her mother couldn’t bear the thought that maybe she couldn’t. “How about a walk?”

“I look awful. My eyes must be swollen. And my nose always gets red when I cry.” She laughed through her tears as her mother made a face at her.

“That’s the worst piece of nonsense I’ve ever heard. Your nose is not red.” Sarah hopped out of her chair to look in the mirror and gave a shout of disgust.

“It is too! Look at it, it looks like a red potato!”

“Let me see….” Victoria narrowed her eyes and peered at Sarah’s nose as she shook her head. “It must be a very, very small potato. I don’t think anyone will notice anything, if you throw a little cold water on your face, and comb your hair, and maybe even put on a spot of lipstick.” She hadn’t worn makeup in months, and she didn’t seem to care, and up until now, Victoria hadn’t pressed it.

“I didn’t bring any with me.” Sarah looked deliberately vague. She really didn’t know if she wanted to try, but she was touched by what her mother had said, and she didn’t want to be completely uncooperative, even if that meant wearing lipstick.

“I'll give you some of mine. You’re lucky you look as well as you do without it. I look like a sheet of blank paper without makeup.”

“You do not,” Sarah called after her, as her mother crossed the stateroom to her own rooms, to get her daughter some lipstick. She returned a moment later and held it out to her, as Sarah obediently splashed her face with cold water and combed her hair. In her sweater and slacks, with her hair loose past her shoulders, she looked like a young girl again, and her mother smiled as they left the cabin, arm in arm, to find Sarah’s father.

They found him on the promenade deck, comfortably soaking up the sun in a deck chair, while two attractive young men played shuffleboard near him. He had intentionally taken up the deck chair closest to them, the moment he spotted them, hoping that Victoria would eventually appear with Sarah, and he was delighted when he saw them.

“And what have you two been up to? Shopping?”

“Not yet.” Victoria looked pleased, and Sarah smiled, completely oblivious to the two men her father had spotted. “We thought we’d go for a walk first, and have tea with you, and then ravage the stores and spend all your money.”

“I’ll have to throw myself overboard if you two wipe me out.” The two women laughed, and the two young men nearby glanced at Sarah, one of them with considerable interest. But she turned away and began to stroll down the promenade deck with her father. As they talked, Edward Thompson was impressed by how much his daughter knew of world politics. She had apparently spent her time well of late, reading newspapers and magazine articles, and learning everything she could of the situation in Europe. He was reminded of how intelligent she was, how astute, and really was amazed at how much she knew. This was no ordinary girl, and she hadn’t just been wasting her time while she was hiding. She talked about the Civil War in Spain, Hitler’s annexation of Austria in March, and its implications, as well as his behavior two years before that in the Rhineland.

“How do you know all that?” her father asked, looking vastly impressed. She was wonderful to talk to.

“I read a lot.” She smiled shyly at him. “I don’t have much else to do, you know.” They exchanged a warm smile. “And I find it fascinating. What do you think will happen, Father? Do you think Hitler will declare war? He certainly seems to be gearing up for it, and I think the bond between Rome and Berlin could be very dangerous. Particularly given what Mussolini is doing.”

“Sarah”—he stopped and stared at her—“you amaze me.”

“Thank you.” They walked on for a time, talking in depth of the danger of war in Europe, and he hated to stop walking with her an hour later. There was a side to her he had never seen, a side that had clearly been wasted on Van Deering. They continued to talk animatedly over tea, as Edward expounded on his theory that the United States would never be involved in a war over there, and expressing the view that Ambassador Kennedy had already shared with his intimates, that England was in no position to engage in a war in Europe.

“It’s a shame we’re not going to Germany,” Sarah said, surprising her father. “I’d love to get a feeling for what’s happening there, or maybe even talk to people.” Listening to her made her father very glad they weren’t going there. Having Sarah delve into dangerous world politics was not in his plans for her. Being interested in what was happening in the world, being knowledgeable and informed, even to the degree she was, which was certainly rare, especially for a woman, was one thing, but going there and testing the water implied a danger he would never agree to.

“I think it’s just as well we’re staying in England and France. I’m not even sure we really should go to Rome. I thought we’d decide once we were in Europe.”

“Where’s your spirit of adventure, Father?” She teased, but he shook his head, much wiser than she was.

“I’m too old for that, my dear. And you should be wearing beautiful gowns and going to parties.”

“How dull.” She pretended to look bored, and her father laughed.

“You certainly are an unusual girl, Miss Sarah.” No wonder her marriage to Van Deering had been a disaster, and she had gone into hiding on Long Island. She was far too intelligent for him and most of the young men in his circle. And as they came to know each other better on the ship, her father came to understand her better.

By the third day out, Sarah seemed completely at ease walking around the ship. She still kept to herself, and had no particular interest in the young men aboard, but she ate with her parents in the dining room, and on the last night, she dined with them at the captain’s table.

“You’re not engaged to anyone, Miss Thompson?” Captain Irving asked with a twinkle in his eye, as her mother held her breath as to what she would answer.

“No, I’m not,” Sarah said coolly, with a faint blush on her cheeks, and a hand that trembled as she set down her wineglass.

“How fortunate for the young men in Europe.”

Sarah smiled demurely, but she felt the words like a knife to her heart No, she wasn’t engaged, she was waiting for her divorce to come through in November, one year after the hearing. Divorce. She felt like a ruined woman. But at least no one here knew, that was a blessing of sorts, and she was grateful for it. And with any luck at all, no one in Europe would know either.

The captain asked her to dance, and she looked beautiful in his arms, in an ice-blue satin dress her mother had had made for her before her wedding to Freddie. The dress had been part of her trousseau, and she felt a knot in her throat that night as she put it on. And another when a young man she had never met asked her to dance with him, immediately after the captain. She seemed to hesitate for a long time, and then nodded politely.

“Where are you from?” He was very tall, and very blond, and she could hear from his accent that he was English.

“New York.”

“Are you coming to London?” He seemed to be having a very good time, he had been watching Sarah for days, but he had found her to be very elusive and a little daunting. She had offered him no encouragement at all, which he found somewhat dismaying.

Sarah was intentionally vague with him. She had no interest in being pursued by anyone, and in an odd way, he reminded her a little bit of Freddie.

“Where would you be staying?”

“With friends of my parents,” she lied, knowing full well they had reservations at Claridge’s, and would be in London for at least two weeks, but she had no desire whatsoever to see him. And mercifully for her, the dance ended quickly. He attempted to hang around after that, but Sarah offered him no encouragement, and a few minutes later, he took the hint and went back to his own table.

“I see young Lord Winthrop is not to your liking,” the captain teased her. He had been the prize catch on the ship, and all the marriageable young ladies seemed determined to pursue him. All except for the extremely aloof Miss Thompson.

“Not at all. I simply don’t know him,” Sarah said coolly.

“Do you wish to be formally introduced?” the captain offered, but Sarah only smiled as she shook her head.

“No, thank you, Captain.” She danced with her father after that, and the captain commented to Victoria on her daughter’s intelligence and beauty.

“She’s an unusual girl,” he said, clearly in admiration of her. He had enjoyed talking to her, almost as much as her own father had during the five-day crossing. “And so pretty. She seems remarkably well behaved for someone so young. I can’t imagine you have any problems with her at all.”

“No.” Victoria smiled, proud of her youngest daughter, “except that she’s a little too well behaved.” Victoria smiled in spite of herself, dismayed by Sarah’s total indifference to young Lord Winthrop. It didn’t bode well for the rest of the young men in Europe. “She’s had a great disappointment in her life,” she confided in him, “and I’m afraid she’s been withdrawn from everyone for some time. We’re hoping to bring her out of herself a bit in Europe.”

“I see,” he nodded, understanding better now. It explained her total lack of interest in Phillip Winthrop. “She won’t be an easy young woman to find a man for,” he said honestly. “She’s too intelligent, and too wise, and she doesn’t seem to be interested in much in the way of nonsense. Perhaps an older man.” He liked the girl, and he found himself pondering the problem, and then smiled at her mother “You’re very fortunate. She’s a beautiful girl. And I hope she finds a wonderful husband.” Victoria found herself wondering if that was how it looked to all of them, that they were coming to Europe to find a husband for Sarah. Sarah would have a fit if she thought that even for a moment. Victoria thanked the captain, then had one last dance with him, and went to find her daughter and her husband.

“I think we should go to bed at a decent hour, you two. We have a big day tomorrow.” They were getting off in Cherbourg and going directly to Paris. Sarah had never been there, and they had a heavy sightseeing schedule, with a driver and a car that had been arranged for them by the hotel. They were staying at the Ritz, and after a week there they were moving on to Deauville, and Biarritz, to see friends, and then a week on the Riviera, in Cannes, and a few days in Monte Carlo with an old friend. And after all that, they were going to London.

The ship docked in Cherbourg at eight o’clock the next morning, and the Thompsons boarded the boat train in high spirits. Edward shared a list of places with them that he thought Sarah really should see, among them the Louvre, the Tuileries, Versailles, Malmaison, the Jeu de Paume, the Eiffel Tower, and, of course, Napoleon’s tomb. At the end of the recital, Victoria Thompson raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t hear the house of Chanel on that list … or Dior … or Balenciaga, or Schiaparelli. Did you forget them, dear?” Violet and mauve were “the” colors in Paris that year, and Victoria was anxious to shop for herself and Sarah.

“I tried to, my love.” He smiled benevolently. “But I didn’t think you’d let me forget for long.” He enjoyed indulging his wife, and was looking forward to indulging his daughter. But he also wanted to show her the more important cultural sights, some of which he began pointing out to her as they rode into Paris.

Their rooms at the Ritz, when they arrived, were absolutely beautiful. This time Sarah had a suite entirely separate from theirs, with a view of the Place Vendôme. She had to admit to herself as she stood in her room that there was something bittersweet about being there alone, and it would have been infinitely more enjoyable if she could have been there with her husband.

She sighed and went to bed alone in the enormous bed, under the down comforter, and in the morning, they went to the Louvre, and spent hours there. It was a very gratifying day for her parents, as was the rest of the trip. She was no longer resisting them, and in Paris they only had one friend, an old friend of Edward’s mother, and she invited them to tea on the rue Jacob. But there were no social events for Sarah to avoid. She could just enjoy the museums and the cathedrals and the shops, and the time she spent there with her parents.

Deauville was a little more strained, because the people they visited there insisted on forcing Sarah to meet their son, and did everything possible to provoke some interest between them. He was very interested in her, but Sarah found him unattractive, uninformed, and incredibly boring. She spent their entire stay there doing everything she could to avoid him. Likewise, the two brothers that were forced on her in Biarritz, and the grandson pressed on her in Cannes, not to mention the two “charming” young men introduced to her by their friends in Monte Carlo. By the end of their stay on the Riviera, Sarah was in a black mood, and barely speaking to her parents.

“Did you enjoy the Riviera, dear?” Victoria said to her innocently as they packed, preparing to leave the next day for London.

“No, I really didn’t,” Sarah said bluntly “Not at all”

“Really?” Her mother looked up in surprise, she thought she had been having a lovely time. They had been on several yachts, had spent a good deal of time on the beach, and had gone to several really splendid parties. “How disappointing.”

“I want you to know something, Mother.” Sarah looked at her squarely, and put down the white blouse she had been packing “I have not come to Europe to find another husband. I might remind you that, until November anyway, I am still married. And after that, I hope never to be married again. I’m sick and tired of everyone you know trying to force their idiot sons on me, or their illiterate grandsons, or their moronic cousins. I haven’t met a man here yet whom I can talk to, let alone want to spend as much as an hour with. I don’t want another man in my life, and I don’t want to be dragged all over Europe, shown off like some sort of backward girl, desperately in need of a husband. Is that clear?” Her mother looked stunned as she nodded. “And by the way, do any of these people know that I’ve been married before?”

Victoria shook her head. “I don’t really think so.”

“Well, maybe you should tell them. I’m sure they’d be far less enthusiastic about throwing their little idiot darlings at me if they knew that I was a divorced woman.”

“That’s not a crime, Sarah,” her mother said quietly, knowing full well how Sarah viewed it. To Sarah, it was a crime. An unforgivable sin she could not forgive herself, and she didn’t expect anyone else to either.

“It’s nothing to be proud of. And most people would hardly consider it an asset.”

“I didn’t suggest that it was, but it is not an insuperable affliction. There are people you’ll meet who will know, and who won’t mind. And when the time is right, with people who don’t know, you can always tell them, if you feel you have to.”

“Yes, it’s rather like a disease. One owes it to people to warn them.”

“Of course not. Only if you want to.”

“Maybe I should just wear a sign. You know, like a leper.” She sounded angry and bitter and sad, but she was sick of being paired off with young boys who held absolutely no interest whatsoever for her, and almost tore her clothes off. “Do you know what that de Saint Gilles boy did in Deauville? He stole all my clothes while I was changing, and then came in and tried to rip off my towel. He thought he was incredibly amusing.”

“How dreadful!” Her mother looked shocked. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I did. To him. I told him that if he didn’t give me back my clothes at once, I was going straight to his father, and the poor thing was so frightened, he gave me everything back and begged me not to tell anyone. He really was pathetic.” It was something a sixteen-year-old would do, not a man of twenty-seven. And they had all been like that so far, immature, spoiled, arrogant, ignorant, uneducated. She couldn’t bear it. “I just want you and Father to know that I am not here in Europe to look for a husband.” She reminded her mother again, as her mother nodded, and Sarah went back to her packing.

Victoria mentioned the incident to her husband that night, and told him about the young man in Deauville, and he thought the prank was stupid, but certainly harmless.

“The real problem is that she’s more mature than all of them. She’s been through a lot too. She needs someone older, more mature. These boys have no idea how to handle her. And given how she feels about getting involved with anyone again, they only annoy her. We have to be careful who we introduce her to in London.” The idea was not to turn her away from men completely, but at least to find one or two whose company she might enjoy, to remind her that there was more than solitude in life. But the boys she had met so far only made solitude look more appealing.

They went back to Paris the next day, and crossed the channel in seven hours by the Golden Arrow train and ferry the following morning. And they arrived at Claridge’s in time for dinner. They were met at the desk by the manager, who showed them to their suite of rooms with the utmost formality and decorum. Her parents had a large bedroom with a view over the rooftops toward Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. They had a sitting room, too, and she had a very pretty room that looked like a boudoir, done in pink satin and rose-covered chintzes. And as she glanced at the desk in her room, she noticed half a dozen invitations, none of which looked like good news to her. She didn’t even bother to open them, and her mother mentioned them to her that night at dinner. As they dined in their suite, Victoria explained that they’d been invited to two dinner parties, and a tea given by old friends, a day in the country in Leicester for a picnic, and a luncheon given in their honor by the Kennedys at the embassy in Grosvenor Square. All of which, as far as Sarah was concerned, sounded incredibly boring.

“Do I have to go with you?” There was a whine in her voice that reminded her mother of her teens, but her father looked firm as he answered.

“Now, let’s not start that again. We all know why we’re here. We’re here to see friends, and we’re not going to insult them by turning down their invitations.”

“Why do they have to see me? They’re your friends, Father, not mine. They won’t miss me.”

“I won’t have it.” He planted a fist down firmly on the table. “And I won’t discuss it with you again. You’re too old for this nonsense. Be courteous, be pleasant, and be good enough to make an effort. Do you understand me, Sarah Thompson?”

Sarah looked at him icily, but he seemed not to notice, or to care how much she objected. He had brought her to Europe for a reason, and he was not going to be deterred from bringing her back out into the world again. No matter how much she resisted him, he knew instinctively that it was exactly what she needed.

“Very well then.”

They finished their meal in silence. And the next day they went to the Victoria and Albert Museum, and had a wonderful time, followed by a very elegant and very stuffy formal dinner. But Sarah did not complain. She wore a dress her mother had bought for her before the trip, a dark-green taffeta that was almost the color of her eyes and suited her to perfection. She looked very beautiful when they arrived, and totally unexcited to be there. She looked as bored as she was, through most of the evening. Several young people had been invited to meet her, and she tried to make an effort to talk to them, but she found she had nothing in common with them. More than anything, most of them seemed very spoiled and very silly, and surprisingly unaware of the world around them.

Sarah was quiet on the way home, and her parents did not ask her if she’d had a good time. It was clear to everyone that she hadn’t. The second formal party was much the same, and the tea party was worse. There, they attempted to force a great-nephew on her, who even her mother had had to admit afterwards, with embarrassment, was foolish and graceless to the point of being childish.

“For God’s sake,” Sarah stormed when they went back to Claridge’s that night. “What’s wrong with these people? Why are they doing this to me? Why does everyone feel they have to pair me off with their idiot relations? What did you say to them when you told them we were coming?” Sarah asked her father, who refused to look defensive. ’“That I was desperate, and they had to help me out?” She couldn’t believe the people she was meeting.

“I merely said that we were bringing you. How they interpreted that was up to them. I simply think they’re trying to be hospitable by inviting young people for you. If you don’t like their relatives or their young friends, then I’m very sorry.”

“Can’t you tell them I’m engaged? Or have a contagious disease? Something so they don’t feel compelled to match me up with anyone? I really can’t bear this. I refuse to keep going to parties and feel like a fool for the entire evening.” She had handled it very well, but her temper was growing short, and it was clear she hadn’t enjoyed it.

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” her father said quietly. “They don’t mean any harm. Try not to get so upset.”

“I haven’t had an intelligent conversation with anyone but you since we left New York,” she said accusingly, and he smiled. At least she enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers. That was something.

“And who is it you were having such intelligent conversations with while you were hiding on Long Island?”

“At least there, I didn’t expect it.” The silence had been peaceful.

“Well, don’t expect so much now. Take it for what it is. A visit to a new place, an opportunity to meet new people.”

“Even the women are no fun to talk to.”

“I don’t agree with you there,” he said, and his wife raised an eyebrow. He patted her hand apologetically, but she knew he was only teasing.

“All these women are interested in is men, boys,” she said defensively. “I don’t think they’ve ever even heard of politics. And they all think Hitler is their mother’s new cook. How can anyone be so stupid?” Her father laughed outright and shook his head.

“Since when have you been such a political and intellectual snob?”

“Since I’ve kept my own company. Actually, it’s been damn pleasant.”

“Maybe too much so. It’s time you remembered that the world is full of a variety of people, intelligent ones, less-intelligent ones, some downright dumb ones, some amusing ones, some very dull ones. But that is what makes a world. You’ve definitely been on your own for too long, Sarah. I’m happier than ever that you came here.”

“Well, I’m not sure I am,” she growled, but the truth was that she had enjoyed the trip with them. The social aspects had been less than pleasing, but she had enjoyed the trip very much in other ways, and she was happy to be with them. It had brought her closer to her parents again, and in spite of her complaints she seemed happier than she’d been in a long time. And if nothing else, she seemed to have regained her sense of humor.

She balked at going to the country with them the next day, but her father insisted that she had no choice, that the country air would do her good, and he knew the estate where they were going, and said it was well worth seeing. Sarah groaned as she got into the car with them, and complained most of the way down, but she had to admit that the countryside was beautiful, and the weather was unusually hot and sunny for England.

When they arrived, she reluctantly conceded that it was a remarkable place, just as he’d promised. It was a fourteenth-century moated castle, with beautiful grounds and the original farm, which the family had restored completely. The hundred guests they had invited to lunch were welcome to roam everywhere, even to wander down the long baronial halls, where servants waited discreetly to serve them drinks or make them comfortable in one of the many sitting rooms, or outside in the gardens. Sarah thought she had never seen a prettier, or more interesting place, and she was so fascinated by the farm that she stayed forever asking questions, and managed to lose her parents. She stood looking at the thatched roofs of the cottages and huts, with the huge castle looming in the distance. It was an extraordinary sight, and she uttered a small sigh as she looked at it, feeling comfortable and at peace, and completely in the grip of history as she stood there. The people around her seemed almost to disappear; in fact, most of them had by then. They had gone back to the castle for lunch and to stroll through the gardens.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” a voice behind her said. She turned around, startled to see a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes just behind her. He seemed to loom there, looking very tall, but he had a warm smile, and they looked almost like brother and sister. “I always have an extraordinary sense of history when I come here. As though, if you close your eyes for a moment, the serfs and the knights and their ladies will appear in an instant.”

Sarah smiled at what he said, because it was exactly what she’d been feeling. “I was just thinking that. I couldn’t bring myself to go back after I visited the farm, I just wanted to stay and feel exactly what you were just describing.”

“I like it this way. I dread all those awful places that have been manicured to death, and boiled beyond recognition to make them seem modern.” She nodded again, amused by what he said and how he said it, and there was a distinct twinkle in his eye as he spoke to her. He seemed to be amused by everything, and he was pleasant to talk to.

“I’m William Whitfield, captive for the weekend,” he introduced himself. “Belinda and George are cousins of mine, mad as they are. But they’re good people. And you’re American, aren’t you?”

She nodded, and held out her hand, feeling faintly shy, but not very. “Yes, I am. I’m Sarah Thompson.”

“Delighted to meet you. From New York? Or somewhere more exciting, like Detroit or San Francisco?”

She laughed at his vision of exciting, and admitted that he’d been right the first time.

“On the Grand Tour?”

“Right again.” She smiled, and he eyed her carefully with piercing blue eyes that held her firmly.

“Let me guess. With your parents?”

“Yes.”

“How awful. And they’re boring you to tears going to museums and churches by day, and at night introducing you to all their friends’ sons, most of whom drool, and a few of whom can almost speak English. Am I right again?” He was clearly enjoying the portrait he painted.

Sarah laughed openly, unable to deny it. “You’ve been watching us, I assume. Or someone’s been telling you what we’ve been doing.”

“I can’t think of anything worse, except perhaps a honeymoon with someone truly dreadful.” But as he said the words, her eyes clouded over, and she almost seemed to take a little distance from him, and he was instantly aware of it as he watched her.

“Sorry, that was tasteless.” He, seemed very open and very direct, and she felt incredibly comfortable with him.

“Not really.” She wanted to tell him that she was just sensitive, but, of course, she didn’t. “Do you live in London?” She felt a responsibility to change the subject to put him at ease again, although very little seemed to disturb him.

“I do live in London,” he confessed. “When I’m not in Gloucestershire, mending old fences. But it’s nothing like this, I can promise you. Actually, it never was, and I don’t have Belinda and George’s imagination. They’ve spent years bringing this place up to scratch. I’ve spent years just keeping mine from turning into a pile of rubble. And it has anyway. Dreadful place, if you can imagine it. Full of drafts, and cobwebs, and terrifying sounds. My poor mother still lives there.” He made everything seem amusing as he spoke of it, and they began to move slowly away from the farm as they chatted. “I suppose we should go back up for lunch, not that anyone will ever notice if we don’t. With that mob underfoot, Belinda wouldn’t even notice if we went back to London. I imagine your parents would, however. I rather think they’d come after me with a shotgun.”

She laughed at him again, knowing that her parents would have been more likely to use the shotgun to bring him nearer. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m not exactly the image parents are looking for, for their innocent young daughters. Bit old for that, I’m afraid, but in relatively good health for an old man, comparatively speaking.” He was eyeing her carefully, stunned by how beautiful she was, and yet intrigued by something he saw in her eyes as well, something intelligent and sad, and very cautious. “Would it be terribly rude to ask how old you are?”

She suddenly found herself wanting to say “thirty,” and couldn’t imagine why she would lie to him, so she didn’t. “I’ll be twenty-two next month.”

He was less impressed than she wanted him to be as he smiled down at her, and helped her over a rock fence with a powerful hand that felt smooth in her own for the instant that she held it. “A mere baby. I’m thirty-five. I’m afraid your parents would be incredibly depressed if you came home with me as your token European.” He was teasing her, but they were both having fun, and she really liked him. He would have made a good friend, and she liked the fact that she could joke with him, even though she didn’t know him.

“The nice thing about you, though, is that you don’t drool, I would bet that you can tell time, and you do speak English.”

“I’ll admit, my virtues are too many to number. Where do people get those dreadful relatives they bring out for other people’s children? I could never understand it. I have met young women in my lifetime, all of them related to seemingly normal people, yet most of whom must be institutionalized by now, poor dears. And everyone I knew was convinced that I was simply aching to meet them. Quite extraordinary, isn’t it?”

Sarah could hardly stop laughing as she remembered the boys she had just met all over Europe. She described the one in Deauville to him, and the two in Biarritz … the boys in Cannes, and Monte Carlo … and they were friends by the time they crossed the moat and reentered the castle.

“Do you suppose they’ve left any lunch for us at all? I’m absolutely starving,” he admitted to her. He was a very big man, and it was easy to believe he was hungry.

“We should have taken some of the apples down at the farm, I was dying to, but the farmer didn’t offer them, and I was afraid to take them.”

“You should have said something,” William said helpfully. “I’d have stolen them for you.”

They found the lunch table well laden with roasts and chickens and vegetables and an enormous salad. And they heaped a healthy lunch onto two plates and William led her into a little arbor. She didn’t hesitate to follow him for a moment. It seemed entirely natural to be alone with him, and to listen to his stories. Eventually, they began talking politics, and Sarah was fascinated to hear that he had just been to Munich. He said that the tension could be felt acutely there, although not as much as in Berlin, and he hadn’t been there since the year before. But all of Germany seemed to be revving up for a major confrontation.

“Do you think it will come soon?”

“It’s hard to say. But I think it will come, even though your government doesn’t seem to think so.”

“I don’t see how it can be avoided.” It intrigued him to find her so aware of world news, and so interested in things seldom followed by women. He asked her about it and she told him that she had spent a lot of time alone for the past year, and it had given her time to learn things that she normally wouldn’t.

“Why would you want to be alone?” He looked deep into her eyes, but she looked away from him. He was intrigued by everything about her, and he could see that there was something very painful that she was carrying with her, but determined to keep hidden.

“Sometimes one needs to be alone.” She didn’t elaborate further and he didn’t want to pry, but he was intrigued, and she talked to him then about the farmhouse she wanted to buy on Long Island.

“That’s quite a project for a young girl. What do you suppose your parents will say to all that?”

“They’ll have a fit.” She grinned. “But I don’t want to go back to New York anymore. Eventually, they’ll agree, or I’ll buy it myself if I have to.” She was a determined girl, and possibly a very stubborn one. He was amused by the look in her eyes as she said it. This was not a woman one could take lightly.

“I wouldn’t think leaving New York is such a bad idea, but going to live alone in a farmhouse at your age is not exactly the height of entertaining either. What about spending summers there, or weekends?”

She shook her head with the same determined look. “I want to be there all the time. I want to restore it myself.”

“Have you ever done anything like that?” He was amused by her. She was an enchanting creature, and he was amazed at how much he liked her.

“No. But I know that I can.” She sounded a little as though she were practicing to convince her father.

“Do you really think they’ll let you do it?”

“They’ll have to.” She set her chin, and he gently tweaked it.

“I imagine you must keep them rather busy. No wonder they’ve brought you to Europe to meet Prince Charming. I’m not sure I blame them Perhaps you really ought to have one of those sweet young droolers.”

She looked shocked and then took a swipe at him with her napkin, and he laughed as he defended himself and found himself breathlessly close to her, and for a mad instant he wanted to kiss her. But as he looked down at her, he saw something so sad in her eyes that it actually stopped him

“There’s a secret in your life, isn’t there? And it’s not a happy one, is it?”

She hesitated for a long time before she answered him. And she did so with caution. “I don’t know if I’d call it that.” But her eyes told their own story.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Sarah. I’m only a stranger. But I like you. You’re a great girl, and if something dreadful has happened to you, then I’m truly sorry.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, looking very wise and very beautiful, and more alluring than ever.

“Sometimes the things that hurt us the worst are the ones we forget quickest. They hurt so brutally for a while, and then they heal and it’s over.” But he could see that this wasn’t healed yet, or even over. He imagined she’d been jilted by someone, or perhaps the boy she had loved had died, something sweet and romantic and innocent, and she’d get over it soon enough. Her parents had been right to bring her to Europe. She was a real beauty and a bright girl, and whatever it was, she’d get over it quickly, particularly if she met the right boy in Europe … lucky devil!

They chatted for a long time, safely tucked away in their arbor, until at last they ventured out to rejoin the other guests, and within moments they ran smack into their somewhat eccentric hostess, William’s cousin, Belinda.

“Good God, there you are! I told everyone you’d gone home. My Lord, William, you’re impossible!” She looked amused beyond words as she spotted Sarah with him. “I was just about to tell you that the Thompsons are convinced their daughter fell into the moat. They haven’t seen her since they got here, what on earth have you been up to?”

“I kidnapped her. Told her the story of my life. And she was properly revolted, and asked to be returned to her family at once, so I was just bringing her back to you, with endless remorse, and humblest apologies.” He was grinning from ear to ear, and Sarah was clearly smiling, and entirely at ease beside him.

“You are absolutely dreadful! And what’s more, you’ve never felt remorse in your entire life.” She turned to Sarah with a look of concerned amusement. “My dear, did he harm you? Should I call the constable?”

“Oh, do!” William encouraged her, “I haven’t seen him in months.”

“Oh, do shut up, you monster.” But Sarah was laughing at them, and Belinda shook her head in mock despair. “I shall never invite you again, you know. One simply can’t. You’re far too badly behaved to invite with decent people.”

“It’s what everyone says.” He looked mournfully at Sarah, who hadn’t been this happy in years. “Do I dare introduce myself to your parents?”

“I think you’d better,” Belinda growled at him, unaware of the fact that he had every intention of meeting them, and seeing Sarah again, if they’d let him. He had no idea who or what she was, but he knew without a doubt that he wanted to get to know her better. “I’ll take you to them,” Belinda said helpfully, and Sarah and William followed her, giggling and laughing and whispering, like naughty children. But the Thompsons were far from angry at her when they saw her again. They knew that she had to be safe somewhere on the property, among the other guests. And they were very pleased when they saw her with William. He looked pleasant and intelligent, and he was a good-looking man, of reasonable age, and he seemed to be very taken with their daughter.

“I have to apologize,” he explained. “We got waylaid at the farm, and then we stopped for lunch. And I’m afraid that I detained Sarah far longer than was proper.”

“Don’t believe a word of it,” Belinda interjected. “I’m sure he kept her tied to a tree somewhere, and ate all her lunch while he told her abominable stories.”

“What a good idea,” William said pensively, as the Thompsons laughed at them. “Sarah, we really ought to try that next time.” He seemed surprisingly comfortable with her, and she with him, and they chatted for a long time, until George appeared, enchanted to find him again, and insisted that he come to the stables to see his new stallion. William was dragged away in spite of himself, and Belinda chatted on with them, raising an admiring eyebrow at Sarah.

“I shouldn’t say this, my dear, but you’ve captured the eye of the most attractive man in England, and possibly the nicest.”

“We had a very pleasant time talking.” But pleasant wasn’t exactly the word she would have used, if she’d been talking to her sister. He was really quite terrific.

“He’s too smart for his own good. Never married. He’s far too choosy.” Belinda shot a warning glance at the Thompsons, as though to tell them he wouldn’t be an easy catch, but they seemed not to notice. “It’s remarkable how unassuming he is. One would never know, would one….” She turned to Sarah again then. “I don’t suppose he said anything…. You do know that he’s the Duke of Whitfield, don’t you?” She opened her eyes wide and Sarah stared at her.

“I … uh … he just introduced himself as William Whitfield.”

“He does that. Actually, it’s one of the things I like most about him. I forget where he is in all that. thirteenth or fourteenth in the succession.”

“To the throne?” Sarah asked in a strangled voice.

“Yes, of course. Though it’s not likely he’ll ever get there. But still, it means something to all of us. We’re stupid about things like that here. I suppose it all has to do with tradition. Well, anyway, I’m glad you’re all right. I was a bit worried when we couldn’t find you.”

“I’m sorry.” Sarah blushed furiously, still staggering mentally from the information about her new friend, William. And then suddenly, she wondered if she had made some really dreadful faux pas with him. “Am I supposed to call him something? … I mean … some tide? Something special?”

Belinda smiled at her. She was so young, and so very pretty. “Your Grace, but if you do, I suppose he’ll shoot us both. I wouldn’t say anything about it, unless he does.” Sarah nodded, and William rejoined them just as their hostess left them.

“How was the horse?” Sarah asked in a subdued voice, trying to sound normal, as her parents pretended to ignore them.

“Not nearly as impressive as the price George paid for him, I’m afraid. He’s the worst judge of horseflesh I’ve ever seen. Wouldn’t surprise me a bit if the poor beast turned out to be sterile.” And then he looked at her guiltily. “Sorry, I don’t suppose I should have said that.”

“It’s all right.” She smiled at him, wondering what he would say if she called him “Your Grace” now. “I think I’ve probably heard worse.”

“I hope not.” And then he grinned. “Oh … the droolers … God only knows what they’d say.” She laughed at him and they exchanged a long look, as she wondered to herself what she was doing. He was a duke, in line to the throne, and she was acting as though they were old friends, but that was how she felt after spending the last three hours with him, and she didn’t want to go back to London.

“Where are you staying?” She heard him ask her father, as they walked slowly back to the castle again, to the moat where they had entered.

“At Claridge’s. Would you join us there sometime? For a drink, or for dinner?” Her father said it very casually, and William looked delighted with the invitation.

“I’d like that. May I call you in the morning?” He addressed the question to Edward, and not to Sarah.

“Certainly. We’ll look forward to hearing from you, sir,” Edward said as he shook his hand. Then William turned to Sarah as her parents walked past her to the waiting car and driver.

“I had a wonderful time today. I really didn’t expect that. I almost didn’t come … you were a lovely surprise, Miss Sarah Thompson.”

“Thank you.” She smiled up at him. “I had a wonderful time too.” And then she couldn’t help saying something to him about what Belinda had told them. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“About what?”

“Your Grace.” She said it with a shy smile and for a moment she was afraid he’d be angry, but he laughed, after only a moment’s hesitation.

“Dear Belinda.” And then, “Does it matter?” he asked softly.

“No, not at all. Should it?”

“It might. To some. For all the wrong reasons.” But he already knew from talking to her that she wasn’t one of those people. And then he looked at her with an expression that was both serious and teasing. “You know my secret now, Miss Sarah Thompson … but be careful!”

“Why?” She looked puzzled, as he moved just a little closer to her.

“If you know my secret, perhaps in time I will ask you to share yours.”

“What makes you think I have one?”

“We both know that, don’t we?” he said softly, and she nodded, her eyes very full, as he reached out and touched her hand gently. He didn’t want her to be frightened of him. “Don’t worry, little one … don’t ever tell me anything you don’t want to.” He bent and kissed her cheek then, and walked her slowly to the car to return her to her parents. She looked up at him in awe as he stood beside the car, and waved until they were gone. And as they rode back to London, she wondered if he would ever call them.

Chapter 5

HE next morning, as Edward was having breakfast with his wife in the living room of their suite at Claridge’s, the telephone rang, and a secretary’s voice announced a call from the Duke of Whitfield. There was a moment’s pause, and William’s warm, genial voice came on the line with a friendly greeting.

“I hope I’m not calling you too early, sir. But I was afraid you might get off on your rounds before I could reach you.”

“Not at all.” Edward glanced at his wife with a look of delight, and nodded vehemently as he continued the call, and Victoria immediately understood him. “We were just having breakfast, except for Sarah, of course. She never eats, I don’t know how she does it.”

“We’ll have to see about that.” William jotted himself a note to have his secretary send her flowers that morning. “Are you free this afternoon, all of you, I mean? I thought it might be amusing for the ladies to see the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London. One of the few privileges that comes with rank is that one can have private tours of oddities like that, if one chooses. It might be fun for Sarah and Mrs. Thompson to try some of it on. You know … that sort of thing …” He sounded a little vague this morning, and very British. But Edward liked him a great deal. He was a real man, and it was obvious that he had a considerable interest in Sarah.

“I’m sure they’d love it. And it would keep them out of the stores for an hour or two. I’d be very grateful.” The two men laughed, William said he’d pick them up at two, in front of the hotel, and Edward assured him they’d be waiting. And when Sarah emerged from her room to pour herself a cup of tea, her father mentioned casually that the Duke of Whitfield had called, and was taking them to see the Crown Jewels at two o’clock in the Tower of London. “I thought you might like that.” He wasn’t sure if she was more interested in the jewels or the man, but one look at her face gave him the answer.

“William called?” She looked shocked, as though she hadn’t expected to hear from him again. In fact, she had spent most of the night awake, assuring herself that he would never call her. “Two o’clock this afternoon?” She looked as though her father were suggesting something dreadful, which surprised him.

“Do you have something else to do?” He couldn’t imagine what, except maybe a shopping trip to Harrods or Hardy Amies.

“It’s not that, it’s just …” She sat down, and completely forgot her cup of tea. “I just didn’t think he’d call me.”

“He didn’t call you,” her father teased, “he called me, and invited me out, but I’m perfectly happy to take you with me.” She gave him a withering glance, and walked across the room to the window. She wanted to tell them to go without her, but she knew how ridiculous that would seem. But what was the point of seeing him again? What could possibly ever happen between them? “What’s the matter now?” her father asked as he watched her face as she stood at the window. She really was an impossible child if she was going to balk at this extraordinary opportunity. He was a wonderful man, and a little flirtation with him wouldn’t do her any harm. Her father had absolutely no objection.

She turned slowly to face him. “I don’t see the point,” she said sadly.

“He’s a nice man. He likes you. If nothing else, you can be friends. Is that so terrible? Have you no place left in your life for friendship?” She felt foolish when he said it that way, and she nodded. He was right. She was stupid to make so much of it, but he had swept her off her feet at the castle the day before. She had to remember this time not to be so silly and so impulsive.

“You’re right. I didn’t think of it that way. I just … it’s different, because he’s a duke. Before I knew that, it was …” She didn’t know what to say to him, but he understood.

“It shouldn’t make any difference. He’s a nice man. I like him.”

“So do I,” she said quietly as her mother handed her the cup of tea and urged her to eat at least a piece of toast before they went out shopping. “I just don’t want to get into an awkward situation.”

“That’s not likely, in a few weeks over here. Don’t you think?”

“But I’m getting a divorce,” she said somberly. “That could be awkward for him.”

“Not unless you marry him, and I think you’re being a little premature, don’t you?” But he was happy she was at least thinking of him as a man. It would do her good to have a little romance. She smiled at what her father said, and shrugged, and went back to her bedroom to finish dressing. She emerged half an hour later in a beautiful red silk Chanel suit he had just bought her in Paris the week before. And as the British would have said, she looked smashing. She was wearing some of the jewelry Chanel had just designed, some of it simulating pearls, some of it ruby, and she wore two wonderful cuffs that Madame Chanel had worn herself, they were black enamel with multicolored jewels set in them. They weren’t real, of course, but they were very chic, and on Sarah they looked very striking.

She wore her dark hair pulled back in a long queue de cheval, tied with a black satin bow, and on her ears were the pearl earrings they had given her for her wedding. “You look pretty in jewels, my dear,” her father commented as they left the hotel, and she smiled at him. “You should wear them more often.” She didn’t have many things, a string of pearls from her grandmother, the pearl earrings she wore, a few small rings. She had given back her engagement ring, and Freddie’s grandmother’s diamond rivière necklace.

“Maybe I will this afternoon,” she teased back, and Victoria looked knowingly at her husband.

They had lunch at a pub at noon, stopped at Lock’s in St. James’s Street to order a hat for her father, and were back at the hotel promptly at ten minutes to two, and found William already waiting for them in the lobby. He was pacing nervously, and glanced at his watch just as they walked in, and his face lit up when he saw Sarah.

“You look absolutely extraordinary!” He beamed. “You should always wear red.” She had even agreed to wear her mother’s red lipstick, and her parents had just said that she looked beautiful as they walked into the lobby behind her. “I’m awfully sorry I got here early,” he apologized. “I always think it’s ruder being early than being late, but I didn’t want to miss you.”

Sarah smiled quietly as she looked at him. There was something about being with him that just made her feel good. “I’m happy to see you”—she paused, and her eyes twinkled with mischief—“Your Grace,” she added in an undertone, and he winced.

“I shall beat Belinda with a stick the next time I see her. If you ever say that to me again, I shall tweak your nose, is that clear, Miss Thompson, or should I call you Your Highness?”

“Actually, that has a nice ring to it. Your Highness … Your Opulence … Your Vulgarity … I really love titles!” She put on a strong American drawl and batted her eyes at him, and he pulled at the long tail of shiny dark hair that hung down her back with its black-satin ribbon.

“You are impossible … beautiful, but impossible. Do you always behave like this?” he asked blissfully, as her parents inquired for messages at the desk.

“Sometimes I’m worse,” she said proudly, but knowing full well that sometimes she was also very quiet. For almost two years, in fact. There hadn’t been much joy in her life since her marriage to Freddie. But now, suddenly, with him, she felt different. He made her want to laugh again. And she sensed that with him, she could create delightful mischief. William sensed that about her, too, and he loved it.

Her parents rejoined them then, and William escorted them outside to his Daimler. He drove them to the Tower of London himself, chatting amiably all the while, and pointing out the sights to the three of them. Her mother had insisted that Sarah sit in the front seat, and her parents sat in the backseat behind them. William cast glances at her from time to time, as though to be sure she was still there, and to admire her. And when they reached the Tower he helped her and her mother out of the car, and offered a hand to Mr. Thompson. He handed a card to one of the guards, and they were ushered inside immediately, even though it wasn’t visiting hours. And another guard appeared to take them up the small spiral staircase to see the royal treasures.

“It’s really quite remarkable, you know. All these extraordinary things just sitting here, some of them incredibly rare, and very old, with histories that are more fascinating than the jewels themselves. I’ve always loved it.” As a boy, he had been fascinated by his mother’s jewels, the way they were made, the stories that went with them, the places they had come from.

And as soon as they reached the rooms where the jewels were kept, Sarah could see why he thought they were exciting. There were crowns that had been worn by monarchs for the last six hundred years, scepters and swords, and pieces that one wouldn’t see anymore except at a coronation. The Sceptre with the Cross was particularly breathtaking, with a five-hundred-and-thirty-carat diamond set in it, the largest of the Stars of Africa, presented to Edward VII by South Africa. He insisted that she try several tiaras and at least four crowns, among them Queen Victoria’s and Queen Mary’s. Sarah was amazed at how heavy they were, and marvelled that anyone could wear them.

“King George wore this one at his coronation.” He pointed out the one, and as he did, she realized that he had been there, and just knowing that seemed remarkable, and reminded her again of who he was. But most of the time, just talking to him, it was so easy to forget it. “It was a bit of a strain, I must admit, after all of that business with David.” At first, she wondered who he meant, and then she remembered that the Duke of Windsor’s Christian name was David. “Terribly sad, all that. They say he’s blissfully happy now, and perhaps he is, but I saw him in Paris a few months ago, and I don’t think he looks it. She’s a difficult woman, with quite a history behind her.” He was referring to Wallis Simpson, of course, the Duchess of Windsor.

“It all seemed so incredibly selfish of her,” Sarah said quietly. “And so unfair to him. It’s really very sad.” She spoke with real feeling, having felt a terrible bond with her in recent years. But the stigma of divorce seemed to weigh a great deal more heavily on Sarah than it did on Wallis.

“She’s not really a bad person. But shrewd. I always thought she knew what she was doing. My cousin … the duke”-—as though he needed to explain—“gave heir over a million dollars worth of jewels before they were even married. He gave her the Mogul Emerald as an engagement ring. He had Jacques Cartier himself find it for him, and he did, in Baghdad, and they set it for him, or rather, for Wallis. It’s the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen, but I’ve always rather liked emeralds.” It was fascinating hearing him make comments on the jewels they’d seen, rather like a surprisingly intimate tour guide. He didn’t tell them gossipy things, but he told them about jewels made for Alexander the Great, and necklaces given to Josephine by Napoleon, and tiaras designed for Queen Victoria. There was even a remarkably pretty diamond-and-turquoise one she had worn as a young girl, which he made Sarah try on, and on her dark hair, it looked lovely. “You should have one of those,” he said softly.

“I could wear it on my farm.” She smiled up at him and he made a face.

“You’re irreverent. Here you are, wearing a tiara Queen Victoria wore as a young girl, and what do you do, you talk about a farmhouse! Dreadful girl!” But it was obvious that he didn’t think so.

They stayed with him there until late in the afternoon, and it was a rich lesson in history and the quirks and habits and foibles of the monarchs of England. It was an experience none of them could have had without him, and the elder Thompsons thanked him effusively as they returned to his Daimler.

“It is rather amusing, isn’t it? I’ve always loved going there. My father took me there for the first time. He used to love to buy interesting jewels for my mother. I’m afraid she doesn’t wear them anymore. She’s gotten a bit frail, and she seldom goes out now. She still looks marvelous in them, but she claims now that she feels foolish.”

“She can’t be very old,” Sarah’s mother said protectively. She herself was only forty-seven. She had had Jane when she was twenty-three, and she had married Edward at twenty-one, and lost her first baby the year after.

“She’s eighty-three,” William said proudly. “She’s absolutely superb, and she doesn’t really look a day over sixty. But she broke her hip, I’m afraid, last year, and it’s made her a bit skittish about going out on her own. I try to take her out myself when I can, but it isn’t always easy.”

“Are you the youngest of a large family?” Victoria was intrigued by what he’d said, but he shook his head, and said he was an only child.

“My parents had been married for thirty years when I was born, and they had long since given up any hope of having children. My mother always says it was a miracle, a blessing straight from God, if you’ll pardon me for being so pompous.” He grinned mischievously at them. “My father always said that it was a bit of the devil. He died several years ago, and he was a charming man. You would have liked him,” he assured them as he started the Daimler. “My mother was forty-eight years old when I was born, which really is quite amazing. My father was sixty, and he was eighty-five when he died, which isn’t bad. I must admit, I miss him. Anyway, the old girl is quite a character. Perhaps you’ll have a chance to meet her before you leave London.” He looked at Sarah hopefully, but she was looking pensively out the window. She was thinking that she was too comfortable with him, that it was all too easy. But the truth was that it wasn’t easy at all. They could never be more than passing friends, and she had to keep reminding herself of that, particularly when he looked at her a certain way, or made her laugh, or reached out and took her hand. There was no way they could ever be anything more to each other. Nothing more than friends. She was going to be divorced. And he stood fourteenth in line to the British throne. When they arrived at the hotel, he looked down at her as he helped her from the car, and he saw that she looked worried.

“Is something wrong?” He wondered if he had said something to offend her, but she had seemed to have such a good time, and she had clearly enjoyed trying on die jewels in the Tower. But she was angry at herself, she felt as though she was misleading him, and she owed him an explanation. He had a right to know who and what she was, before he wasted any more kindness on her.

“No, I’m sorry, I just have a headache.”

“It must have been that stupid, heavy crown I made you try on. Sarah, I’m terribly sorry.” He was instantly contrite, which made her feel even worse.

“Don’t be silly. I’m just tired.”

“You didn’t eat enough lunch.” Her father reproached her, he had seen the look of dismay on the younger man’s face and felt sorry for him.

“I was going to invite you all out to dinner.”

“Maybe another time,” Sarah was quick to say, and her mother looked at her with an unspoken question.

“Maybe if you lie down,” she suggested hopefully, and William watched Sarah’s face He knew that there was something more going on, and he wondered if there was a man involved in it. Perhaps she was engaged to someone, and she was embarrassed to tell him. Or her fiancé had died. She had mentioned a year of great sorrow. … He wanted to know more, but he didn’t want to press her.

“Perhaps tomorrow for lunch?” He looked Sarah straight in the eye and she started to speak and then stopped.

“I … I had a wonderful time today.” She wanted to reassure him. Her parents thanked him and disappeared upstairs. The two young people had earned the right to be alone, as far as they were concerned, and they sensed that Sarah was having some inner conflicts about him.

“What do you think she’s going to say to him?” Victoria asked her husband with a worried frown, as they rode upstairs.

“I’m not sure I want to know. But he’ll weather it. He’s a good man, Victoria. He’s the kind of boy I’d like to see her settle down with.”

“So would I.” But they both knew there was no real hope of that. He would never be allowed to marry a divorced woman, and they all knew it.

Downstairs, in the lobby, William was looking at Sarah, and she was being vague in answer to his questions.

“Could we go for a walk somewhere? Do you feel up to that?” She did, of course, but what was the point of going anywhere with him, or even seeing him again? What if she fell in love with him? Or he with her? Then what would they do? But on the other hand, it seemed ridiculous to think of falling in love with a man she had just met, and whom she would never see again once she left England.

“I think I’m just being very stupid.” She smiled. “I haven’t been around people in a long time … not men, anyway … and I think I’ve forgotten how to behave. I’m really sorry, William.”

“It’s all right. Would you like to sit down?” She nodded and they found a quiet spot in the corner of the lobby. “Have you been in a convent for the past year?” he asked her, only half teasing.

“More or less. Actually, I threatened that for a while. It was more like a convent of my own making. I stayed in my parents’ beach home on Long Island.” She said it quietly, he had a right to know, and it didn’t seem so unusual now, or as desperate as it had then. Sometimes it was hard to remember just how terrible she had felt when she’d been there.

“And you stayed there for a year without seeing anyone?” She nodded silently in answer, her eyes never leaving his, not sure what she should tell him. “That’s an awfully long time. Did it help?”

“I’m not sure,” she sighed as she spoke honestly to him, “It seemed to at the time. But it made it very difficult to come back out into the world again. That’s why we came here.”

“Europe is a good place to start.” He smiled gently at her, and decided not to ask her any difficult questions. He didn’t want to scare her off, or cause her pain. He was falling in love with her, and the last thing he wanted was to lose her. “I’m glad you came here.”

“So am I,” she said softly, and she meant it.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

“I … I’m not sure … I think we were going to the theater”—but it was a play she knew she didn’t want to see—The Corn Is Green, by Emlyn Williams. “I really should ask my parents.”

“If not, then tomorrow?”

“William…” She seemed about to say something important to him, and then she stopped, and looked at him squarely. “Why do you want to see me?” If the question seemed rude to him, he didn’t show it.

“I think you’re a very special girl. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“But I’ll be gone in a few weeks. What’s the point of all this, for either of us?” What she really wanted to say to him was that she knew there could be no future for them together. And knowing that, it seemed foolish to pursue their friendship.

“The point is that I like you … very much … why don’t we face your going when we get there?” It was a philosophy of his, live for today, I’ve for now, don’t borrow trouble from the future.

“And in the meantime?” She wanted guarantees that no one would get hurt, but even William couldn’t promise her that, no matter how much he liked her. He knew neither her history nor what the future held for them.

“Why don’t we just see…. Will you have dinner with me?”

She hesitated, looking up at him, not because she didn’t want to, but because she did, too much so. “Yes, I will,” she said slowly.

“Thank you.” He looked at her quietly for what seemed like a long time, and then they stood up, and the men at the desk noticed how handsome they were, and how well they looked together. “I'll pick you up at eight o’clock then.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs.” She smiled as he walked her to the elevator.

“I’d rather come up to your rooms. I don’t want you waiting alone here.” He was always protective of her, always careful and thoughtful.

“All right.” She smiled at him again, and he kissed her on the cheek again when the elevator came, and took off across the lobby with a long stride and a wave, and Sarah rode upstairs, trying not to feel her heart pound in anticipation.

Chapter 6

HE bell to their suite rang at exactly five past eight, and Sarah had no way of knowing that William had been waiting downstairs for the past ten minutes. Her parents hadn’t minded her not going to the theater with them, particularly since she was going out with William.

She opened the door to him in a black satin dress, which molded her slim figure like a sheet of black ice that had been poured on her, with a thin edging of rhine-stones.

“My God, Sarah! You look amazing.” She had worn her hair swept high on her head, with waves and curls that seemed to cascade loosely as she moved, giving the impression that if you pulled one pin, her mass of dark hair would pour like a waterfall past her shoulders. “You’re extraordinary!” He took a step back to admire her, and she laughed shyly. It was the first time she had been truly alone with him, except in the arbor in the country when they’d met, but even there, there had been other people around them.

“You look very handsome too.” He had worn one of his many dinner jackets, and a beautiful black silk vest that had been his father’s, and looped across it was a narrow diamond watch chain that had been a gift to his uncle from Czar Nicholas of Russia. As they drove to the restaurant in his car, he explained the story of it to her. Apparently the chain had been sewn into the hem of the gown of a grand duchess and spirited out of Russia. “You are related to everyone!” she marvelled, intrigued by the story. Thinking of it conjured up images of kings and czars, and fascinating royalty.

“Yes, I am,” he said, looking amused, “and let me assure you, some of them are really perfectly awful.” He had driven the car himself tonight, because he wanted to be alone with her, and didn’t want to be burdened with a driver. He had chosen a quiet restaurant, and they were expecting him. The headwaiter took them to a quiet table in the rear, and addressed him repeatedly as “Your Grace,” bowing slightly to both of them as he left them alone at the table. Champagne appeared instantly, and William had ordered their dinner for them when he made the reservation. They had caviar first, on tiny wedges of toast, with exquisite little wedges of lemon, and salmon after that, in a delicate sauce, followed by pheasant, salad, cheese, soufflé au Grand Marnier, and tiny little buttery French cookies.

“My God, I can’t move,” she complained with a smile as she looked at him. It had been a wonderful dinner, and a lovely evening. He had talked about his parents to her, and how much they meant to him, and how distressed his mother had been several years before when he showed no interest in getting married.

“I’m afraid I’ve been a great disappointment to her,” he said unrepentantly. “But I refuse to marry the wrong woman, simply to please my relatives, or have children. I think my parents having me so late always gave me the impression that I could do anything I wanted for a very long time, and still make up for it later.”

“You can. You’re right not to let yourself make a mistake.” But as she said it, he saw the same mysterious sadness.

“And you, Sarah? Are they pressing you to marry yet?” She had already told him about Peter and Jane, and their babies.

“Not lately. My parents have been very understanding.” About her mistakes … her disasters … her disgrace She looked away from him as she said it. He reached out a hand to her then, and closed her fingers in his own strong ones.

“Why is it you never tell me what it is that has been so painful?” It was difficult for either of them to remember that they had only known each other for two days. It already seemed as though they had known each other forever.

“What makes you think I’ve been in pain?” She tried to fob him off, but he would have none of it, and his touch stayed firm but gentle on her fingers.

“Because I see whatever it is you’re hiding from me. I don’t see it clearly. But it lurks there, like a ghost, always in the shadows, waiting to haunt you. Is it so terrible that you can’t share it with me?” She didn’t know what to answer him, she didn’t dare tell him the truth, and her eyes filled with tears as he asked the question.

“I … I’m sorry…” She freed her hand from his, to dab her eyes with her napkin. And their waiter disappeared discreetly. “It’s just … it’s such an ugly thing. You would never feel the same way about me again. I haven’t met anyone since … it happened …”

“My God, what is it? Did you murder someone? Kill a relative, a friend? Even at that, it must have been an accident. Sarah, you must not do this to yourself.” He took both her hands in his own and held them in his strong grasp so that she would feel protected. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but it hurts me to see you suffer.”

“How can it?” She smiled unbelievingly through her tears. “You don’t even know me.” It was true, and yet they both knew he did. They knew each other better after two days than some people after a lifetime.

“I did a terrible thing,” she admitted to him, holding tightly to his hands, and he didn’t flinch, or waver, or withdraw them.

“I don’t believe that. I think you think it was terrible. But I would wager that no one else does.”

“You’re wrong,” she said wistfully, and then sighed and looked back at him, but she withdrew her hands as she did so. “I was married two years ago. I made a huge mistake, and I tried to live by it. I tried everything. I was determined to stay with him, and die trying if I had to.” William seemed unaffected by the news she had expected to rock him so badly.

“And are you still married to him?” he asked quietly, still offering his hands to her, if she wanted to take them, but she didn’t. She knew she couldn’t now. When he heard all of it, he would no longer want her. But she owed it to him to tell him.

“We have been separated for over a year. In November, the divorce will be filial.” She said it like a sentence for murder.

“I’m sorry,” he said seriously. “Sorry for you, Sarah. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been, and how unhappy you must have been for the past year.” He wondered if her husband had left her for someone else, or what had come between them.

“Did you love him very much?” he asked hesitantly, not wanting to pry, but needing to know it. He needed to know if the pain she felt was longing for him, or simply regret, but she shook her head at him in answer.

“To be honest with you, I’m not sure I ever loved him. I knew him all my life, and it seemed the right thing to do then. I liked him, but I didn’t really know him. And the moment we came back from our honeymoon, everything fell apart, and I realized what a mistake I’d made. All he wanted to do was to be out night and day, playing with his friends, chasing other women and drinking.” The tone of sorrow in her voice told him volumes. She didn’t tell him about the baby she’d lost, or the prostitutes he’d brought to their anniversary party at her parents’. But he saw in her eyes that she’d suffered far more than she’d told him. She looked away, and William touched her hands again, and waited until she looked at him. Her eyes were full of memories and questions.

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” William said quietly. “He must be a complete fool.” Sarah smiled and sighed again, feeling relieved, but not redeemed. She knew she would always feel guilty for being divorced, but continuing her life with him would have destroyed her, and she knew it. “Is this the terrible sin you were hiding from me?” She nodded and he smiled at her. “How can you be so foolish? This isn’t the last century. Other people have gotten divorced. Would you rather have stayed with him and suffered that torture?”

“No, but I’ve felt terribly guilty toward my parents. It’s been so embarrassing for them. No one in our family has ever been divorced before. And they’ve been so incredibly nice about it. I know they must be ashamed, to some extent, but they’ve never criticized me for it.” Her voice drifted off as he watched her.

“Did they object at first?” he asked bluntly.

“No, not at all.” She shook her head. “In fact, they encouraged me.” She thought back to the family meeting in Southampton, the morning after her disastrous anniversary party. “Actually, my father did everything. They were wonderful, but it must have been agonizing for them to face their friends in New York.”

“Did they say that?”

“No They were too kind to reproach me.”

“And have you faced their friends again, and your own, and been punished for your crime?” She shook her head, and smiled at the way he put it

“No.” She laughed, suddenly sounding young again, and her heart felt lighter than it had in years. “I’ve been hiding on Long Island.”

“Foolish girl. I’m quite sure that if you’d had the courage to go back to New York, you would have found that everyone applauded your leaving that rotter.”

“I don’t know.” She sighed again. “I haven’t seen anyone … until now … until you …”

“How fortunate for me, Miss Sarah Thompson. What a silly, silly girl you’ve been. I can’t believe you’ve been in mourning for an entire year for a man you don’t even think you loved. Sarah, really”—he looked both incensed and amused—“how could you?”

“Divorce is no small thing to me,” she defended herself. “I kept worrying that people would think that it was like that awful woman who married your cousin.”

“What?” William looked stunned. “End up like Wallis Simpson? With five million dollars worth of jewels, a house in France, and a husband, however stupid he may have been, who adores her? My God, Sarah, what a ghastly fate, I hope not!” It was clear that he was teasing her, but not entirely, and they both laughed.

“I’m serious,” she scolded him, but she was still laughing.

“So am I. Do you really think she ended up so badly?”

“No But look at what people think of her. I don’t want to be like that.” She looked serious again as she said it.

“You couldn’t, you goose. She forced a king to give up a throne. You’re an honest woman who made a terrible mistake, married a fool, and made it right again. What man, or woman for that matter, could hold that against you? Oh, I’m sure someone will one day, some damn fool who’s got nothing better to do than point a finger. Well, to hell with them. I wouldn’t give a damn about your divorce, if I were you. When you go back to New York, you ought to shout it from the rooftops. If I were in your shoes, it’s marrying him I’d be ashamed of.” She smiled at the way he looked at things, but in some ways, she hoped he was right, and she felt better than she had in a year. Maybe he was right, maybe it wasn’t going to be as awful as she had feared.

And then suddenly, she laughed at him. “If you make me feel better about all this, how am I going to go back to my life as a recluse in my farmhouse?” He poured her another glass of champagne as she smiled at him, and he looked at her seriously for a long moment.

“We’ll have to talk about that again sometime. I’m not sure I find that prospect quite as charming as I did when you first told me.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re using it as an escape from life. You might as well go into a convent.” And then he rolled his eyes as he took a sip of champagne again. “What a revolting waste. God, don’t even let me think of it, or I might get really angry.”

“About the convent or the farmhouse?” she teased. He had given her an incredible gift. He was the first person she’d told about the divorce, and he hadn’t been shocked, or horrified, or even startled. For her, it was the first step to freedom.

“Both. Let’s not talk about it anymore. I want to take you dancing.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Apart from on the boat, she hadn’t danced in over a year, and all of a sudden the idea was extremely appealing. “If I can still dance.”

“I’ll remind you,” he offered as he signed the check. And a few minutes later they were on their way to Café de Paris, where his entrance with her made quite a stir, and everyone seemed to go running in a dozen directions to assist him. “Yes, Your Grace,” “Absolutely, Your Grace,” “Good evening, Your Grace.” William began to look extremely bored by it, and Sarah was amused at his expression.

“It can’t be as bad as all that. Now, be nice about it,” she said soothingly, as they made their way to the dance floor.

“You have no idea how tedious it becomes. I suppose it’s fine if you’re ninety years old, but at my age, it’s quite awkward. Actually, come to think of it, even my father, at eighty-five, said it bored him.”

“That’s life.” She grinned as they began dancing to the strains of “That Old Feeling,” which had been popular since the previous winter. She felt stiff on the dance floor with him at first, but after a little while they moved around the floor as though they had been dancing with each other for years, and she discovered that he was particularly adept at the tango and the rhumba.

“You’re very good,” he complimented her. “Are you sure you’ve really been in hiding for a year? Or just taking dancing lessons on Long Island?”

“Very funny, William. That was your foot I just stepped on.”

“Nonsense. It was my toe. You’re getting much better!”

They laughed and talked and danced until two o’clock in the morning, and as he drove her home she yawned and smiled sleepily at him, then she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I had such a good time tonight, William. Really, thank you.”

“I had an awful time,” he said, sounding convincing, but only for a moment. “I had no idea I would be out with a fallen woman. Here I thought you were a nice young girl from New York, and what do lend up with? Used goods. My God, what a blow!” He shook his head mournfully as she swatted him with her handbag.

“Used goods! How dare you call me that!” She was half outraged, half amused, but they were both laughing and smiling.

“All right, then an ‘old divorcée,’ if you prefer. Not at all what I thought, in any case …” He continued to shake his head, and occasionally grin mischievously at her, and suddenly she began to worry that her status might mean to him that she would be easy prey, and he could use her casually for a few weeks until she left London. The very thought made her grow stiff, and move away from him as he drove her back to Claridge’s. Her movement was so abrupt that he was instantly aware that something had happened, and he looked at her, puzzled, as they drew into Brook Street. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I had a kink in my back.”

“You did not.”

“I did.” She looked insistent, but he still didn’t believe her.

“I don’t think you did. I think something crossed your mind again that upset you.”

“How could you say a thing like that?” How could he know her so well, after so little time? It still amazed her. “That’s absolutely not true.”

“Good. Because you worry more than anyone I’ve ever met, and it’s all stuff and nonsense. If you spent more time thinking about the good things happening now, and less time about the bad things that might, or could, come later, and probably never will, you’ll live a much longer, happier life.” He spoke to her almost like a father, and she shook her head as she listened.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Thompson.”

They had reached the hotel by then, and he hopped out of the car and opened the door for her and helped her out, as she wondered what he was going to do next, and if he was going to try to come upstairs. She had already long since decided that she wouldn’t let him.

“Do you suppose your parents would let us do this again sometime?” he asked respectfully. “Perhaps tomorrow night, if I explain to your father that you need some more work on your tango?” She looked at him tenderly. He was much more decent than she gave him credit for, and they had covered so much ground tonight. If nothing else, she knew that they would be friends after this, and she hoped, forever.

“They might. Would you like to come to Westminster Abbey with us tomorrow morning?”

“No”—he grinned honestly-—“but I will, with the greatest pleasure.” He wanted to see her, not the church. But seeing the Abbey was a small price to pay for being with her “And perhaps this weekend, we could take a drive out into the country.”

“I’d like that.” She smiled, and as she did, he looked down at her, and moved his lips very close to hers, and slowly kissed her. His arms went around her with surprising strength and he held her close to him, but not so close that she felt threatened in any way, or even frightened. And when he moved away from her at last, they were both breathless.

“I think there’s a distinct possibility,” he whispered to her, “that we’re both too old for this … but I love it.” He loved the tenderness of it, the promise of what might come later.

He took her to the elevator then, and longed to kiss her again, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to draw the desk clerks’ attention. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered to her, and she nodded as he leaned slowly toward her. She turned her eyes up to his, wondering what he would say to her, and her heart stopped as she heard the words. They were barely more than a whisper, and it was so soon. But he couldn’t stop them. “I love you, Sarah.”

She wanted to tell him that she loved him, too, but he had already stepped back again, and the elevator doors closed quickly between them.

Chapter 7

HEY went to Westminster Abbey, as planned, the next day, and the elder Thompsons sensed that something had passed between the two young people. Sarah seemed more subdued than she had been before, and William looked at her differently, in a more possessive way. Victoria Thompson whispered anxiously to her husband as they strolled briefly away.

“Do you suppose something’s wrong?” she asked him worriedly in an undertone. “Sarah seems upset today.”

“I have no idea,” her father said coolly, as William returned to point out some small detail of architecture to them. As he had in the Tower, he regaled them here with private tales of the royals, and interesting details about the various monarchs. He referred to the coronation the year before, and made a couple of benevolent comments about his cousin Bertie. “Bertie” was now the king, in spite of all his protestations. Having never been prepared for the role, he had been horrified when his brother David abdicated as King Edward.

They walked among the tombs afterwards, and here again, Sarah’s mother thought she was being unusually quiet The older Thompsons went back inside, and left the two young people alone. And as they left, they saw Sarah and William deep in what looked like a serious conversation.

“You’re upset, aren’t you?” He looked frightened and worried as he took her hands in his own. “I shouldn’t have said what I did, should I?” But he had never felt like this before, with anyone, not as strongly, and certainly never as quickly. He felt like a boy, head over heels in love with her, and he couldn’t stop the words as he said them. “I’m sorry, Sarah … I love you … I know it sounds quite mad, and you must think I’m crazy. But I do. I love everything you are and think and want….” He looked truly worried then. “And I don’t want to lose you.”

She turned anguished eyes to him, and it was obvious from the way she looked at him that she loved him, too, but it was equally obvious that she didn’t want to. “How can you say that? About losing me, I mean … You can never have me. I’m a divorced woman. And you’re in line to the throne. All we’ll ever have is this … friendship … or a casual flirtation.”

He rocked back on his heels for a moment as he looked at her, and there was the hint of a smile on his face as he did so. “My dear girl, if you call this casual, I would very much like you to explain to me what you consider serious. I have never been this serious about anyone in my life, and we’ve just met. This, my darling, is not my view of a ’casual flirtation.”

“All right, all right.” She smiled in spite of herself, and she looked more beautiful than ever “You know what I mean. It can’t go anywhere. Why are we torturing ourselves like this? We should just be friends. I’m going back soon, and you have your own life here.”

“And you? What life are you going back to?” He looked abysmally upset at what she was saying. “Your miserable farmhouse, where you will live out your days like an old woman? Don’t be absurd!”

“William, I’m divorced! Or I will be. You’re a fool even to pursue this as far as you have.” she said in obvious anguish.

“I want you to know that I don’t give a damn about your divorce,” he said heatedly. “It means absolutely nothing to me, almost as little as the damn succession you’re so everlastingly worried about. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’ve gotten yourself confused again with that fool who married David.” He meant, of course, the Duchess of Windsor, and they both knew it. And he was right. Sarah did have herself confused with her again, but she was extremely tenacious about her opinions.

“It has to do with tradition and responsibility. You can’t just fly in the face of all that. You can’t ignore it, or pretend it’s not there, and neither can I. It’s like driving down a road at full speed and pretending there isn’t a brick wall running straight across your path. It’s there, William, whether you want to see it or not, it’s there, and sooner or later that wall is going to hurt us both very badly, if we don’t stop soon, before it’s too late.” She didn’t want to hurt anyone. Not him or herself. She didn’t want to fall head over heels in love with him, and then lose him because she couldn’t have him. There was just no point, no matter how much she thought she already loved him, or he her.

“What would you suggest then?” He looked mournfully at her, he didn’t like any of what she was saying. “That we stop now? That we not see each other anymore? By God, I won’t do that, unless you can look me in the eye and tell me this isn’t happening to you, too, and you don’t love me.” He pulled at her hands, and looked her in the eyes, until she couldn’t face him any longer.

“I can’t say that,” she whispered softly, and then she raised her eyes to his again. “But perhaps we should just be friends. That’s all this can ever be. I’d rather have you as my friend forever, William, than lose you. But if we persist in this, rushing headlong into something so dangerous and foolish, sooner or later, everyone you know and love will turn on you, and on me, and it will be disastrous.”

“What faith you have in my family. My mother is half French, you know, and she’s always thought the thing about the succession was incredibly stupid. Fourteenth in line to the throne, my darling, is hardly overwhelming. I could give it up in an instant, and never miss it, and neither would anyone else.”

“I would never let you.”

“Oh, please … for God’s sake, Sarah. I’m a grown man, and you have to believe that I know what I’m doing. And right now, your worries are really premature and absurd.” He tried to make light of it, but they both knew she was right. He would have given the succession up for her in an instant if he thought she would marry him, but he was afraid to ask her. He had too much at stake to want to risk it all too quickly. He had never asked anyone to marry him, and he already knew how much he loved Sarah. “Good God, it’s really quite amazing.” He teased her as they went back into the Abbey to look for her parents. “Half the girls in England would kill someone to be a duchess, and you won’t even speak to me for fear it’s a disease you might catch.” He started to laugh then, thinking of how pursued he had always been, and how reluctant and kind this girl was. “I do love you, you know. I really do love you, Sarah Thompson.” He pulled her firmly into his arms then, for all the world to see, as he kissed her amidst the splendor of Westminster Abbey.

“William …” She started to protest and then gave in to him, breathlessly overwhelmed by the sheer power and magnetism of him. And when he pulled away again at last, she looked up at him, and for an instant forgot all her reservations.

“I love you, too … but I still think we’re both crazy.”

“We are.” He smiled happily, as he put his arm around her shoulders and walked her back toward the main entrance to the Abbey, to find her parents. “But may it be a madness from which we never recover,” he whispered softly, and Sarah didn’t answer.

“Where have you two been?” Edward pretended to be concerned, but in truth he wasn’t. He could see from the look in their eyes that they were closer than ever, and all was going well.

“Talking … wandering along … your daughter is very distracting.”

“I’ll have a word with her later.” Edward smiled at them both, and the two men walked along together for a time, chatting about Edward’s bank, and how America viewed the possibility of war. And William told him about his recent trip to Munich.

They had lunch together at Old Cheshire Cheese at Wine Office Court, and had pigeon pie. And after that, William had to leave them.

“I’m afraid I promised my solicitors I would spend the afternoon with them, a dreary necessity from time to time.” He apologized for deserting them, and asked Sarah if she would join him again for dinner and dancing that night. She hesitated, and he looked woebegone. “Just as friends … one more time….” he lied, and she laughed at him. She already knew him better than to believe that.

“You’re impossible.”

“Perhaps. But you need some serious work on your tango.” They both laughed at that, remembering how many times she had faltered in his arms. “We’ll see to it tonight, shall we?”

“All right.” She agreed grudgingly, wondering to herself how she was ever going to resist him. He was a remarkable man, and she had never been so taken with anyone, certainly not Freddie Van Deering. That had seemed so right at the time, but she had been so stupid and young, and this was wrong, too, in a different way, and yet she had never loved anyone more or felt that she knew anyone better than she had already come to know him

“He’s a charming young man,” her mother said to her, as Edward dropped them off again at Hardy Amies. Sarah couldn’t disagree with her. She just didn’t want to ruin his life and her own by falling headlong into a romance that could go nowhere. Despite William’s willingness to throw caution to the winds, for his sake, she wasn’t willing to be as hasty. But she forgot her fears by that afternoon, when her mother bought her a fabulous white satin dress that set off her dark hair and creamy skin and her green eyes to perfection.

When William saw her in it that night, he stared at her, she looked so lovely. “Good God, you look positively dangerous in that, Sarah. I’m not at all sure you should let me take you out. I must say, your parents are really very trusting.”