Jewels

“I told them not to be, but you seem to have them completely in your thrall,” she teased as they went outside. This time he had brought his driver and the Bentley.

“You really look remarkable, my dear.” She looked every bit a princess.

“Thank you.” She smiled happily at him.

Once again, they had a wonderful time, and she decided to relax with him. He was fun to be with, she liked his friends that they met, and they were all charming to her. They danced all night, and she finally mastered both the rhumba and the tango, and in the dress she wore, she was quite extraordinary to watch on the dance floor with William.

He took her home at two o’clock again, and the evening seemed to have sped past them like moments. She seemed more relaxed with him, and he was totally at ease with her. And tonight they never mentioned her concerns, or his feelings. It was a pleasant, easy night with him, and when they reached the hotel, she found that she hated to leave him to go upstairs.

“And what monument are you visiting tomorrow, my dear?” She smiled at the way he said it.

“None. We were going to stay here and rest. Father has business to do, and he’s having lunch with an old friend, and Mother and I were going to do absolutely nothing.”

“That sounds very appealing.” He looked at her seriously. “Gould I induce you to do nothing with me? Perhaps a little ride in the country for a bit of fresh air?”

She hesitated, and then nodded again. In spite of all her cautions to herself, she knew now that she couldn’t resist him. And she had almost decided not to try until they left London.

He picked her up before lunch the next day, in a custom-built Bugatti she had never seen him drive before. And they set off toward Gloucestershire, as he mentioned points of interest to her, and kept her amused as he was driving.

“Where are we going anyway?”

“To one of the oldest country seats in England.” He looked very serious as she listened. “The main house dates back to the fourteenth century, a bit dreary, I’m afraid, but there are several other houses on the property that are a wee bit more modern. The largest of them was built by Sir Christopher Wren in the eighteenth century, and it’s really very lovely. There are extensive stables, a farm, and a sweet hunting box. I think you’ll like it.” It sounded very pretty to her, and then she turned to him with a question.

“It sounds wonderful William. Who lives there?”

He hesitated, and then grinned at her. “Me. Well, actually, I spend as little time there as possible, but my mother lives there all the time. She lives in the main house. And I prefer the hunting box, it’s a bit more rugged I thought you might like to have lunch with her, as long as you had a bit of spare time.”

“William! You’re taking me to have lunch with your mother, and you didn’t tell me!” Sarah looked horrified, and suddenly a little frightened by what he had done.

“She’s quite nice, I promise you,” he said innocently. “I really think you’ll like her.”

“But what on earth will she think of me? Why does she think we’re coming to lunch?” She was afraid of him again, and of their unbridled feelings, and where they might lead.

“I told her you were desperately hungry. Actually, I rang her yesterday and told her that I’d like her to meet you before you left.”

“Why?” Sarah looked at him accusingly.

“Why?” He looked surprised as he answered her. “Because you’re a friend of mine and I like you.”

“Is that all you said?” she growled at him, and waited for an answer.

“Actually, no, I told her we were getting married on Saturday, and I thought it would be nice if she met the next Duchess of Whitfield before the wedding.”

“William, stop it! I’m serious! I don’t want her to think I’m chasing you, or that I’m going to ruin your life.”

“Oh no, I told her about that too. I told her you would come to lunch, but you absolutely refuse to take the title.”

“William!” the screeched, suddenly laughing at him. “What are you doing to me?”

“Nothing yet, my darling, but how I’d like to!”

“You are impossible! You should have told me we were coming here. I didn’t even wear a dress!” She had worn slacks and a silk blouse, and in some circles that was considered pretty racy. Sarah felt sure the dowager Duchess of Whitfield would disapprove when she saw her.

“I told her you were American, that will explain everything.” He teased as he pretended to soothe her; actually he thought she had taken it rather well. He had been a little worried that she would be even more upset than she was when he told her he was taking her to have lunch with his mother, but actually she had been quite a good sport.

“Did you tell her I’m getting divorced, too, since you seem to have told her everything else?”

“Damn, I forgot.” He grinned. “But do be sure to tell her over lunch. She’ll want to hear all about it.” He smiled at her, more in love with her than ever. And totally indifferent now to her fears and objections.

“You are truly disgusting,” she accused him.

“Thank you, my love. Ever at your service.” He smiled.

They reached the main entrance to the property shortly after that, and Sarah was impressed by how handsome it was. The property was surrounded by tall rock walls that looked as though they had been put there by the Normans. The buildings and the trees looked very old, and everything was impeccably kept up. The scale of it was a little overwhelming. The main house looked more like a fortress than a home, but as they drove past the hunting box where William stayed with his friends, she saw how charming it was. It was larger than their house on Long Island. And the house where his mother lived was beautiful, and filled with lovely French and English antiques, and Sarah was startled to meet the tiny, frail, but still beautiful Duchess of Whitfield.

“I’m happy to meet you, Your Grace,” Sarah said nervously, not sure if she should curtsy or shake her hand, but the older woman took her hand carefully in her own and held it.

“And I you, my dear, William said you are a lovely girl, and I see he’s quite right. Do come in.” She led the way inside, walking well but with a cane. The cane had been Queen Victoria’s, and had recently been given her by Bertie, as a small gift when he came to visit.

She showed Sarah around the three downstairs sitting rooms, and then they walked outside into the garden. It was a warm, sunny day, in a summer that had been unseasonably warm for England.

“Will you be here for long, my dear?” his mother asked pleasantly, but Sarah shook her head with regret.

“We are leaving for Italy next week. We’ll be back in London for a few days at the end of August before we sail, but that’s it. My father has to be back in New York at the beginning of September.”

“William tells me that he’s a banker. My father was a banker too. And did William tell you that his father was head of the House of Lords? He was a wonderful man … he looked a great deal like William.” She looked up at her son with obvious pride, and William smiled at her, and put an arm around her with open affection.

“It’s not nice to brag, Mother,” he teased, and it was obvious that she thought the world of him. He had been the delight of her life from the moment he was born, he was the ultimate reward in an extremely long and happy marriage.

“I’m not bragging. I just thought that Sarah would like to know about your father. Perhaps one day you will follow in his footsteps.”

“Not likely, Mother. That’s too much of a headache by half. I’ll fill my seat, but I don’t think I’ll ever run it.”

“You might surprise yourself one day.” She smiled again at Sarah, and a little while later they went in to lunch. She was a charming woman, amazingly alert for her age, and she clearly doted on William. She didn’t seem to cling to him, or complain that he wasn’t attentive enough, or that she never saw him. She seemed perfectly content to let him lead his life, and she seemed to take great pleasure in hearing about it from him. She told Sarah about some of his more amusing youthful escapades, and how well he had done when he was at Eton. He had gone to Cambridge after that, and read History and Politics and Economics.

“Yes, and now all I do is go to dinner parties, and do the tango. Fascinating how useful an education is.” But Sarah already knew he did more than that. He ran his estates, the very profitable farm, and was active in the House of Lords; he travelled, he was well-read, and he was still fascinated by politics. He was an interesting man, and Sarah hated to admit to herself that she liked everything about him. She even liked his mother. And his mother seemed enchanted by Sarah.

The three of them went for a long walk in the gardens in the afternoon, and Annabelle Whitfield told Sarah all about her childhood in Cornwall, as well as her visits to her maternal grandparents in France, and their summers in Deauville. “Sometimes I really miss it,” she confessed with a nostalgic smile at the two young people.

“We were just there in July. It’s still lovely.” Sarah smiled back at her.

“I’m glad to hear that. I haven’t been back in fifty years now.” She smiled at her son. “Once William came, I stayed home. I wanted to be with him every moment, hovering over him, marvelling at his every word and sound. It almost killed me when the poor child went to Eton. I tried to convince George to keep him here with me, with a tutor, but he insisted, and I suppose it was just as well. It would have been too boring for him at home, with his old mother.” She looked at him lovingly and he kissed her cheek.

“It was never boring at home with you, Mother, and you know it. I adored you. And still do.”

“Foolish boy.” She smiled, always happy to hear it.

They left Whitfield late in the afternoon, and the duchess asked Sarah to come back and see her again before she left England. “Perhaps after your trip to Italy, my dear. I would love to hear all about it when you get back to London.”

“I’d love to come and see you.” Sarah smiled at her. She had had a lovely time, and she and William chatted about it on the way back to London. “She’s wonderful.” Sarah smiled at him, thinking about the things his mother had said. She had been welcoming and warm, and sincerely interested in Sarah.

“She is wonderful, isn’t she? She hasn’t got a mean bone in her body. I’ve never seen her angry at anyone, except perhaps me”—he laughed at the memories—“or unkind, or speak to anyone in the heat of anger. And she absolutely adored my father, and he her. It’s a shame you couldn’t meet him, too, but I’m awfully glad you had the time to come and meet my mother.” The look in his eyes said something more to her, but Sarah pretended to ignore it. She didn’t dare allow herself to feel any closer to him than she already did.

“I’m glad that you brought me,” Sarah said softly.

“So was she. She really liked you.” He glanced over at her, touched by how frightened she was.

“She would have really loved me if she knew I was divorced, wouldn’t she?” Sarah said ruefully as he skillfully handled a sharp turn in the road in his Bugatti.

“I don’t think she’d mind at all, you know,” he said honestly.

“Well, I’m glad you decided not to test that.” She smiled again, relieved. But he couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease her.

“I thought you were going to tell her at lunch.”

“I forgot. I’ll do it next time. I promise,” Sarah teased him back.

“Capital. She’ll be excited to hear it.” They laughed and enjoyed each other’s company for the rest of the trip home, and he left her at the hotel with regret. That evening she was dining with her parents and their friends. But William had insisted on seeing Sarah the next day, first thing in the morning.

“Don’t you have something else to do?” She teased him again as he asked her, while they stood in front of Claridge’s, looking Wee two very happy, windblown young lovers.

“Not this week. I want to spend every moment I can with you, until you leave for Rome. Unless you have an objection.” She thought she should object, for his sake, but she really didn’t want to. He was too appealing and his lures were too strong.

“Hyde Park then, tomorrow morning? And then the National Gallery, a short drive to Richmond after that, and a walk in Kew Gardens. And lunch at the Berkeley Hotel.” He had it all planned, and she laughed at him. She didn’t care where they went, just so she could be with him. She was getting swept up in being with him constantly, and in spite of all her fears of their getting too involved, she found herself swept along in the excitement of being with him. He was difficult to resist, but they’d be gone soon anyway. And then she would have to force herself to forget him. But what harm was there in a little happiness for a few days? Why not, after all the time she’d spent alone for the past year, and the miserable year she’d spent before that.

For the rest of their time in London, William went almost everywhere with them. He had an occasional business meeting that couldn’t be postponed, now and then, but for the most part he was at their disposal. He and Edward had lunch together at White’s, William’s club, on their last day in town.

“Was it fun?” Sarah asked her father when he returned.

“William was very kind. And it’s a marvelous club.” But it wasn’t the atmosphere or the food he had liked most about the lunch, it was the man, and what he had said to him. “He’s taking us all out to dinner tonight, and then he’s taking you dancing. I imagine Italy will be awfully quiet for you without him, after all this,” he said seriously, anxious to see her expression when she answered.

“Well, I’ll get used to that, won’t I?” she said firmly. “This has been fun, and he’s awfully kind, but it can’t go on forever.” She hugged her father and left the room, and that night they all went to the Savoy Grill for dinner. William was charming company, as usual, and Sarah was in good form too. And after dinner, they dropped off her parents at the hotel, and went on to the Four Hundred Club for the promised dancing.

But she was quiet in his arms tonight, despite all her attempts at gaiety before that. It was easy to see how sad she already was, and finally they went back to their table, and held hands as they talked quietly long into the night.

“Will it be as hard for you next week as it will for me?” he asked her, and she nodded. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Sarah.” They had grown so close to each other in these few short weeks. It still amazed both of them that they had become so close so quickly. William was still trying to absorb it. He’d never known or loved anyone like her.

“You’ll find something else to do.” She smiled valiantly. “Maybe you’ll just have to get a job as a guide at the British Museum or the Tower of London.”

“What a good idea!” he teased, and then put an arm around her shoulder and held her close. “I shall miss you terribly for the next three weeks, and then you’ll have such a short time back in London. Barely a week.” The thought of it saddened him. She nodded silently. She wished a great many things, that they had met years before, that she were English, that there had never been a Freddie. But wishing wouldn’t change anything, and she had to brace herself to leave now. It was so hard to do, so hard to imagine not seeing him day after day, laughing and teasing, and taking her to new places, or to meet his friends, or even to see the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London, or visit his mother at Whitfield, or simply to sit somewhere quietly and talk.

“Maybe you’ll come to New York one day,” she said wistfully, knowing that it wasn’t very likely. And even if he did, his visit would be too short.

“I might!” He gave her a brief ray of hope. “If we don’t get ourselves into trouble in Europe. The ‘supreme leader’ in Germany might make transatlantic travel difficult one of these days, you never know.” He was convinced there would be a war eventually, and Edward Thompson didn’t disagree with him. “Perhaps I should plan to come before that.” But Sarah knew that seeing William in New York was a distant dream, one that would probably never come. It was time to say good-bye now, and she knew it. Even if she saw him again when she got back from Italy, by then things would already be different between them. They had to take their distance from each other now, and resume their own lives.

They did a last tango, and executed it perfectly, but even that didn’t make Sarah smile. And then they had one more “last dance,” cheek to cheek, both of them lost in their own thoughts, and when they went back to their table, he kissed her for a long, long time.

“I love you so, sweet girl. I really can’t bear to leave you.” They had both behaved admirably for the entire two weeks, and there had never been any question of doing anything different. “What am I going to do for the rest of my life without you?”

“Be happy … have a good life … get married … have ten children. …” She was only half teasing him. “Will you write to me?” she asked wistfully.

“On the hour. I promise. Perhaps your parents will hate Italy and come back to London sooner,” he said hopefully.

“I doubt that.” And so did he.

“You know, Mussolini is almost as bad as Hitler, from what everyone tells me.”

“I don’t think he’s expecting us.” She smiled. “In fact, I’m not even sure we’ll see him while we’re there.” She was teasing him again, but she didn’t know what more to say to William. Everything they had to say to each other was too painful.

They drove back to her hotel in silence, and tonight he had driven himself. He didn’t want his driver intruding on his last moments with Sarah. They sat in his car for a long time, talking quietly about what they’d done, what they would like to do, what they might have done, and what they would do when she came back to London before she sailed.

“Ill spend every minute with you until you sail, and that’s a promise.” She smiled as she looked up at him, he was so aristocratic and so handsome. The Duke of Whitfield. Perhaps one day she would tell her grandchildren how she had loved him years before. But more than ever she knew she couldn’t cost him his succession.

“I’ll write to you from Italy,” she promised him, not sure what she’d say. She’d have to confine herself to telling him what they were doing. She couldn’t allow herself to tell him all she felt. She was firm in her resolve not to encourage him to do something crazy.

“If I can get through, I’ll call you.” And then he took her in his arms and held her. “My darling … how I love you.” She closed her eyes, as tears rolled slowly down her cheeks while they kissed.

“I love you too…” she said as their lips parted for the merest moment. She saw that there were tears in his eyes, too, and she gently touched his cheek with her fingertips. “We have to be good about this, you know. We have no choice. You have responsibilities in your life, William. You can’t ignore them.”

“Yes, I can,” he said softly. “And what if we did have a choice?” It was the closest he’d ever come to promising her a future.

“We don’t have a choice.” She put a finger to his lips and then kissed him. “Don’t do this, William. I won’t let you”

“Why not?”

“Because I love you,” she said firmly.

“Then why won’t you give us what we both want, and talk about the future.”

“There can’t be a future for us, William,” she said sadly.

And when he helped her from the car, they walked slowly across the lobby, hand in hand. She had worn the white satin dress again, and she looked extravagantly lovely. His eyes seemed to pore over her, as though drinking in every detail so that he would never forget her once she was gone.

“I’ll see you soon.” He kissed her again, in plain sight of the men at the desk in the lobby. “Don’t forget how much I love you,” he said softly, and he kissed her once more, as she told him that she loved him. It was agony getting into the elevator without him. The doors closed heavily, and as she rose with it, she felt as though her heart were being torn from her chest.

He stood in the lobby staring at the elevator doors for a long time, and then he turned and went back outside to the waiting Daimler, with an unhappy but determined look. She was stubborn, even if she thought she was doing the right thing for him, but William Whitfield was more so.

Chapter 8

HE ride to Rome on the train seemed absolutely endless to Sarah. She was silent and pale, and her parents spoke in hushed tones to each other, but seldom spoke to her. They both knew how unhappy and how uninterested in conversation she was. William had called her just before they left for Victoria Station. The conversation had been brief, but there had been tears on her cheeks as she picked up her handbag and left the room. No matter how much they cared for each other, she knew that this was the beginning of their ultimate separation. She knew better than anyone how hopeless the situation was, and how foolish she had been to let herself fall in love with William. And now she would have to pay the price, suffer for a while, and force herself to forget him in the end. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see him again when they went back to London before they sailed. It was possible that seeing him at all would just be too painful.

She stared out the window as they rode on the train, forcing herself to think of Peter and Jane, and little James and Marjorie back home, and even Freddie. But no matter how hard she worked at distracting herself, she always found herself thinking of William … or his mother or his friends … or the afternoon they’d spent at Whitfield … or the times they had kissed … or the nights they danced.

“Are you all right, dear?” her mother asked solicitously as they left her to go to the dining car for lunch. Sarah had absolutely insisted she wasn’t hungry, and the steward was going to bring her a plate of fruit and a cup of tea, which she said was all she wanted. Her mother suspected she wouldn’t even bother to eat that.

“I’m fine, Mother, really.”

But Victoria knew that she wasn’t, and she told Edward over lunch how it worried her to see Sarah in so much pain again. She’d been through enough with Freddie without more heartbreak. And perhaps they shouldn’t have let her indulge her little romance with the duke.

“Maybe it’s important that she learn exactly what she feels about him now,” Edward said quietly.

“Why?” Victoria looked puzzled. “What difference will that make?”

“One never knows what life will bring, Victoria, does one?” She wondered if William had said something to him, but without asking her husband, she decided that was unlikely. And after lunch, they went back to their compartment and found Sarah reading a book. It was Brighton Rock by Graham Greene, which had just come out, and William had given it to her for the long ride on the train. But she couldn’t concentrate on it, she couldn’t remember anyone’s name. In fact, she had absolutely no idea what she was reading, and eventually, she put it away.

They passed through Dover, Calais, and Paris, where they switched to a connecting train, and long after midnight, Sarah lay awake in the dark, listening to the sound of the wheels as they rolled through northern Italy. And with each sound, each mile, each turn of the wheel, all she could think of was William and her moments with him. It was far worse than anything she had ever felt after Freddie, and the difference with William was that she really loved him, and she knew he loved her in return. It was just that the price of a future together would cost him too dearly, she knew, and she refused to let him pay it.

She awoke tired and pale, after only a few hours’ troubled sleep, as they rolled into the Stazione di Termini, overlooking the Piazza dei Cinquecento.

The Excelsior Hotel had sent a car to meet them there, and Sarah made her way indifferently toward the driver. She carried a small makeup case, her handbag, and she wore a large hat to shield herself from the Roman sun, but she was oblivious to everything around her. The driver pointed out various sights to them on the way to the hotel, the Baths of Diocletian and the Palazzo Barberini, and then the Borghese Gardens, as they approached the hotel. But in truth, she was sorry they had come, and she was dreading three weeks of sightseeing with her parents in Rome, Florence, and Venice, feeling the way she did after William.

When they reached the hotel, Sarah was relieved to be alone in her room for a while. She closed the door, and lay down on the bed with her eyes closed But the moment she did, all she could think of was William again. It was almost like being haunted. She got up, splashed cold water on her face, combed her hair, took a bath, which felt heavenly after the long ride on the train, dressed again in a fresh cotton dress, and an hour later went to find her parents. They had bathed and changed, too, and everyone seemed to feel revived in spite of the crushing heat of Rome in August.

Her father had planned an outing to the Colosseum that afternoon, and the sun was blazing as they explored each minute detail. It was late in the afternoon when they got back to the hotel, and Sarah and her mother were feeling seriously wilted by the heat. Her father suggested they stop for something to drink before they went upstairs, and even that didn’t really revive them. Sarah drank two lemonades, and she felt a hundred years old as she left the table to go back to her own room alone. She left them chatting there, over two glasses of wine, and she walked slowly back into the lobby, carrying the large straw hat she had been wearing since that morning, feeling vague, and thinking of nothing for once, which was a relief.

“Signorina Thompson?” One of the managers asked her discreetly as she passed the desk.

“Yes?” She was distracted as she glanced their way, wondering why they had called her.

“There is a message for you.” He extended an envelope to her, addressed in a strong, familiar hand, and she glanced at it, wondering absentmindedly how it had reached her so quickly. She opened it while still standing there, and all it said was “I will love you forever, William.” She smiled as she read the words, and slowly folded the letter and put it back in the envelope, realizing that he must have mailed it to the hotel before she even left London. As she began to walk slowly up the stairs to the second floor, her heart was full of him. Visions of him were flooding into her head, as someone brushed past her.

“Sorry,” she murmured without looking up, and then suddenly she was literally swept off her feet and into someone’s arms, and he was there, in Rome, in the hotel, and he was kissing her as though he would never let her go again. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. “What … I … you … William, where are you? … I mean … Oh my God, what are you doing?” She was breathless and totally shocked by what he’d done. But she was also very, very pleased, and he was delighted.

“I’m coming to spend three weeks in Italy with you, if you must know, you silly girl. You walked right by me in the lobby.” He had been pleased by how forlorn she looked. It was precisely how he had felt when he had left her at Claridge’s in London. It had taken him less than an hour after that to decide to throw all caution to the wind and meet her in Rome. And seeing her now made him doubly glad he’d done it. “I’m afraid I’ve got bad news for you, my dear.” He looked serious as he gently touched her cheek, and for an instant she was worried about his mother.

“What is it?”

“I don’t think that I can live without you.” He grinned broadly and she smiled in answer. They were still standing on the stairs, as people below them smiled, watching them talk and kiss. They were two very attractive young people in love, and it warmed people’s hearts just to see them.

“Shouldn’t we at least try to resist?” Sarah asked nobly, but she was too happy he had come to discourage him now.

“I couldn’t bear it. It will be bad enough when you go to New York. Let’s take the month and enjoy it.” He put his arms around her and kissed her again, just as her parents started up the stairs, and stopped to look at them in amazement. At first they couldn’t see who he was, all they could see was their daughter in a man’s embrace, but Edward knew instantly who it was, and he smiled at them with pleasure. They walked slowly up the stairs, and a moment later the four of them stood together. Sarah was flushed with happiness, and she was still holding William’s hand as her parents reached them.

“You’ve come to guide us around Italy, I see,” Edward said to him with amusement. “Very considerate of you, Your Grace. Thank you very much indeed for coming.”

“I felt it my duty,” William said, looking happy and a little sheepish.

“We’re very happy to see you.” He spoke for them all, and clearly Sarah, who was beaming. “It should be a much happier trip now. I’m afraid Sarah didn’t think much of the Colosseum.” Sarah laughed, in fact, she had hated every moment without William.

“I’ll try to do better tomorrow, Father.”

“I’m sure you will.” And then he turned to William. “You have a room, I assume, Your Grace?” They were becoming good friends, and the elder Thompson liked him.

“I do, sir, an entire suite of them, I might add. Very handsome. My secretary made the accommodation, and God only knows what he told them. Second in line to the crown at the very least, judging by what they’ve done.” The four of them laughed and walked up the stairs, chattering amiably about where they should go for dinner. And as they walked, William gently squeezed her hand, thinking of the future.

Chapter 9

HE time in Rome flew by on wings, visiting cathedrals, museums, Palatine Hill, and visiting some of William’s friends in some very lovely villas. They went to the beach at Ostia, and dined in elegant restaurants, with an occasional foray into some quaint trattorias.

And at the end of the week they moved on to Florence, for more of the same. Until at last, in their third week, they went to Venice. And by then, William and Sarah were closer than ever and more in love. They seemed to think and move as one. To people who watched them and didn’t know who they were, it would have been difficult to believe that they weren’t married.

“It’s been such fun,” Sarah said, as they sat by the swimming pool at the Royal Danieli late one afternoon. “I love Venice,” she said. The entire trip had been like a honeymoon, except that her parents were there, and she and William had not done anything they shouldn’t have, which hadn’t been entirely easy for either of them. But at the outset, they had promised each other they’d behave.

“I love you desperately,” he said happily, soaking up the sun. He had never been happier in his life, and he knew for sure now that he would never leave her. “I don’t think you should go back to New York with your parents,” he said half jokingly, but he opened one eye to see her reaction to what he was saying.

“And what do you suggest I do instead? Move in with your mother at Whitfield?”

“That’s a nice idea. But frankly, I’d prefer to have you with me in London in the house there” She smiled at him. She would have liked nothing more, but it was a dream that would never come to fruition.

“I wish I could, William,” she said softly, as he rolled over on his stomach and got up on his elbows to discuss the matter with her further.

“And just why is it that you can’t? Remind me.” She had a long list of objections that he always pooh-poohed, the first of which was her divorce, and the second his succession to the throne.

“You know why.” But he didn’t want to. And finally she kissed him and urged him to be grateful for what they had. “It’s more than some people have in a lifetime.” She had come to be infinitely grateful for him, and for each moment they shared. She knew only too well how precious it all was, and how rare, and how unlikely that it would ever happen again in her lifetime.

He sat up next to her then, as they watched the boats and the gondolas in the distance, as the spires of St Mark’s Cathedral rose toward the sky. “Sarah …” He took her hand in his. “I’m not playing at this.”

“I know that.”

He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips, and said something he had never said to her quite that openly before, “I want to marry you.” He kissed her again then in a way that told her he meant it, but eventually she pulled away from him and shook her head with anguish.

“You know we can’t,” she whispered to him as he kissed her.

“We can. I am not going to let my place in the succession or your divorce stop us now. That’s absolutely absurd. No one, but no one, in England gives a damn what I do. The only one I care about is my mother, and she adores you. I told her before you ever met her that I wanted to marry you, and after she met you she said she thought it a very sensible plan. She’s completely for it.”

“You told her before you took me to lunch at Whitfield?” Sarah looked horrified and he grinned at her wickedly.

“I thought she ought to know that you were important to me. I’ve never told her that about anyone before, and she said she was just grateful that she’d lived long enough to see me fall in love with such a nice girl.”

“If I’d known that when you took me there, I’d have gotten out of the car and walked back to London. How could you do that to her? Does she know about the divorce?”

“She does now,” he said seriously. “I told her afterwards. We had a very serious talk before you left London, and she agrees with me completely. She said that feelings like this only come once in a lifetime. And that certainly must be true for me. I’m almost thirty-six years old, and I’ve never felt anything for anyone except occasional desire and frequent boredom.” She laughed at what he said and shook her head in amazement, thinking how totally unpredictable life was, how wonderful, and amazing.

“What if you become an outcast because of me?” She felt as though she had a responsibility to him, but she was greatly relieved by his mother’s reaction.

“Then we’ll come here, and live in Venice. Actually, that might be rather nice.” He looked nonplussed by all her objections. They didn’t worry him at all.

“William, your father was the head of the House of Lords. Think of the disgrace you’ll bring to your family and your ancestors.”

“Don’t be absurd. And they won’t take my seat away. Dear girl, the only thing I cannot be is king. And let me assure you now, there was never the remotest chance of it, thank God. I can’t think of anything I’d hate more. If I thought there was a chance, I’d have given it up myself years ago. Fourteenth in line is purely a matter of prestige, my dear, and barely that, I assure you. It’s nothing I can’t very happily live without.” But she still didn’t want their love for each other to cost him something that could have been important to him, or his family.

“Won’t it embarrass you when people whisper that your wife was married before?”

“Frankly, no. I don’t give a damn. But I also don’t know how everyone would know, unless you tell them. You are not, thank heaven, Wallis Simpson, despite what you seem to think. Does that answer all your ridiculous objections, my love?”

“I … you …” She was stumbling over her own words as she tried to force herself to listen to reason, but the truth was that she loved him to distraction. “I love you so much.” She kissed him hard then, and he held her for ages, and then pulled away from her only slightly to threaten her this time.

“I will not let you go until you agree to be the next Duchess of Whitfield,” he whispered to her. “And if you don’t agree, I shall tell everyone at this swimming pool that you are really Wallis Simpson. … I beg your pardon, the Duchess of Windsor.” Her title stuck in his throat still, and he was very glad they had not accorded her the right to be called Her Royal Highness, which had infuriated David. “Will you agree?” he whispered fiercely, kissing her…. “Sarah, will you?” But he didn’t have to ask her again, she nodded, as tears filled her eyes and he kissed her even more longingly than before. It was a long time before he let her go again, and he smiled as he turned away from her and wrapped himself quickly in a towel when he stood up. “It’s settled then,” he said calmly as he held out a hand to her. “When is the wedding?” It stunned her to hear him talk that way. She couldn’t believe that they were really getting married. How was it possible? How did they dare? What would the King say? And her parents? And Jane? And all their friends.

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?” She looked at him, still stunned by it all, but incredibly happy.

“I’m afraid so, my dear. You’re in for a lifetime of it.” A lifetime of love with him. “All I want from you is the date of the wedding.”

Her eyes clouded for a moment as she looked at him, and she lowered her voice slightly when she answered at last. “My divorce will be final on November nineteenth. It could be any time after that.”

“Are you free on the twentieth?” he asked more than half seriously. And she laughed, giddy with the thrill of what he was saying

“I think that might be Thanksgiving.”

“Very well. What is it you eat for that? Turkey? We’ll have turkey at the wedding.”

She thought about the preparations they’d have to make, and the work for her mother, right after Thanksgiving, and smiled shyly up at him. “How about December first? That way we could have Thanksgiving with my family, and you’d have a little time to meet people before the wedding.” But they both knew it would be a small gathering this time. Particularly after the horror of her anniversary party, she had no desire for an enormous party.

“December first it is.” He pulled her close to him again, against the splendid backdrop of Venice. “I believe, Miss Thompson, we are engaged then. When do we tell your parents?” He looked like a happy schoolboy, as she answered with a giddy grin.

“How about tonight at dinner?”

“Excellent.” After he left her at her room, he called the desk and sent a telegram to his mother at Whitfield. “Happiest moment of my life. Wanted to share it with you at once. Sarah and I are to be married in New York on December first. Hope you will feel up to the journey. God bless. Devotedly, William.”

And that evening in the hotel’s dining room, he ordered the finest champagne, and had it served before they even began dinner, although they usually preferred their champagne at dessert.

“We’re off to quite a start this evening, aren’t we?” Edward commented as he sipped the champagne. It was an exquisite vintage

“Sarah and I have something to share with you,” William said quietly, but he looked happier than Sarah had ever seen him. “With your permission, and with your blessing, we hope, we would like to get married in New York, in December.”

Victoria Thompson’s eyes flew open wide as she looked at her daughter in amazed delight, and for a fleeting instant, which neither woman saw, a bond of understanding passed between the two men. William had spoken to him before they had ever left London And Edward had told him then that if it was what Sarah wanted, he would gladly give the union his blessing. And now he was genuinely thrilled to hear it.

“You have our blessing, of course,” Edward assured him officially as Victoria nodded her consent. “When did this all come about?”

“This afternoon at the swimming pool,” Sarah answered.

“Excellent sport.” Her father commented wryly, and they all laughed. “We’re very happy for you. Good Lord” —it finally dawned on him then—“Sarah is going to be a duchess.” He looked pleased, and impressed, but most of all he was pleased with William, and the kind of man he was.

“I apologize for that, of course, but I’ll try to make up for it for her. I would like you to meet Mother when we go back. I hope she’ll be strong enough to come to New York for the wedding.” He doubted it, but at the very least they would ask her, and try to talk her into coming. But William knew that it was a very long trip for a woman her age.

Sarah’s mother broke into the conversation then, wanting to know what kind of wedding they had in mind, what dates they had talked about, where the reception should be, where they were going to honeymoon, all the details that gave mothers gray hair when it came to weddings. Sarah explained quickly that they had decided on December first, but that William would come over for Thanksgiving.

“Or sooner,” he added. “I couldn’t bear a day without her when you came here. I’m not at all sure how I’ll last when she leaves for New York.”

“You’ll be welcome anytime,” her father assured him, and the foursome spent a delightful evening celebrating William and Sarah’s engagement. The Thompsons left them eventually and the young couple spent a long time on the terrace, dancing to the romantic strains of the orchestra, and talking about their plans in the moonlit darkness. Sarah still couldn’t believe this was happening to her. It was all like a dream, so different from the nightmare she had experienced with Freddie. William gave her faith in life again. He gave her love and happiness, and more than she had ever dreamed.

“I want to make you happy always,” William said to her quietly, as they held hands in the dark and sipped more champagne. “I always want to be there for you when you need me. That’s how my parents were. They were never apart, and so seldom angry with each other.” And then he smiled. “I hope we don’t have to wait as long as they did to have children. I’m almost an old man now.” He was soon to be thirty-six, and Sarah had just spent her twenty-second birthday with him in Florence.

“You’ll never be an old man.” Sarah smiled at him. “I love you so,” she whispered as they kissed again. And she could feel now, as they kissed, increasing waves of desire and passion that would be even harder to deny now, knowing they could indulge them so soon. “I wish we could run away for a few days,” she said brazenly, and he smiled, his teeth white and shining in the darkness. He had a wonderful smile. In truth, she loved everything about him.

“I thought about suggesting it once or twice, but my conscience got the best of me. And your parents have helped to keep me honest while we’ve been abroad at least But I can’t vouch for how I’ll behave when we go back to London.”

She laughed at his rueful tone, and nodded. “I know. I think, for grown people, we’ve been extremely well behaved.”

“Please don’t count on that in the future. My good behavior, as you call it, is not a sign of indifference, let me reassure you, only of extremely good manners and restraint.” She laughed at his look of pain, and he kissed her hard on the mouth to prove it. “I think we should take an extremely long honeymoon somewhere very far away.. Tahiti perhaps? On a deserted beach, alone with a few idle natives.”

“That sounds wonderful.” But she knew he was only teasing. That evening they talked about France, which appealed to them both, even in December. She didn’t mind the bleak weather there. In fact, she thought it would be cozy, and she rather liked it.

He talked to her seriously then about something they had never discussed before, but she had opened the door now. “I didn’t want you to think that I would ever take advantage of the fact that you were divorced. I wanted things to be the way they would have been if you had never been married. I wouldn’t have taken advantage of you then, and I haven’t now. I hope you understand.” She did, and she was grateful to him. It would have complicated matters still further if she had had a brief affair with him, and then they had ended it when she left Europe to return to New York. Now they had nothing to regret, only a lifetime of shared joy to look forward to, and she could hardly wait to begin their marriage.

They talked long into the night that night, and when he walked her to her room, it was harder than ever to leave her there alone. But they forced themselves to stop kissing after a while, and he watched wistfully as she closed the door of her suite behind her.

Everyone enjoyed the last few days in Venice together and the four of them rode the train back to London in triumph. There was a telegram from Peter and Jane waiting for them at Claridge’s, congratulating Sarah on her engagement, and William had already received one from his mother in Venice saying much the same thing to him. Although she had also told him that she felt it would be impossible for her to go to New York to be with him at the wedding, she would be with him in spirit, she assured them both.

The next few days were a whirlwind for them, seeing friends, making plans, and making announcements. William and Edward wrote a formal announcement, which appeared in the Times, causing disappointment among the debutantes and dowagers of London who had been chasing William for fifteen years, and now were being told the chase was off forever. His friends were extremely pleased for him, and his secretary couldn’t keep up with the calls and telegrams and letters that poured in as people heard of his engagement. Everyone wanted to give parties for him, and, of course, they all wanted to meet Sarah, and he had to explain again and again that she was an American and she was leaving for New York in a few days, and they would have to wait to meet her until after the wedding.

He also managed to have a long audience with his cousin Bertie, King George VI, before she left, and explained to him that he would be giving up his right to the succession to the throne. The King was not pleased, particularly after what his brother had done, but this was assuredly far less dramatic, and he agreed to it, although with some regret, merely from the standpoint of tradition, and the deep affection they shared. William asked him if he might introduce Sarah to him before he left, and the King said that he would be pleased to meet her. Dressed in formal striped trousers, his morning coat, and his homburg, William brought Sarah back to Buckingham Palace for a private audience the following afternoon. She wore a simple black dress, no makeup, and pearls on her ears and at her throat, and she looked dignified and lovely. She curtsied low to His Majesty, and tried to make herself forget that William always referred to him as Bertie, although he didn’t do so now. He addressed him as “Your Majesty,” and her introduction to the King was extremely formal. It was only after a few moments that the King seemed to unbend, and chatted amiably with her about their plans and their wedding, and told her he hoped to see them at Balmoral when they returned. He liked it there because it was more informal, and Sarah was both impressed and very touched by the invitation.

“You’ll be coming back to England to live, of course, won’t you?” he asked her with a worried frown.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” He seemed relieved then, and he kissed her hand before he left. “You’ll make a beautiful bride … and a lovely wife, my dear. May your life together be long and happy, and blessed with many children.” Her eyes filled with tears as he spoke to her, and she curtsied deeply to him again as he and William shook hands, and then the King left to attend to more important business.

William smiled at her openly with pride as they stood alone in the room once the King had left it. He was so proud of her and so happy, and it was a relief of sorts to know that their marriage would have the royal blessing, in spite of his giving up his right to the succession. “You’ll make a beautiful duchess,” he said softly to her, and then he lowered his voice further. “Actually, you’d make a damn fine queen too!” They both laughed nervously then and were ushered out by a chamberlain who had appeared to assist them. Sarah was overwhelmed by how nervous she had been. This was definitely not an everyday experience. She tried to explain it to Jane later, in a letter, just so she wouldn’t forget it, and even to her it sounded absurd and incredibly pretentious as she explained… “and then King George kissed my hand, looking a little nervous himself, and said …” It was truly impossible to believe it. And she herself wasn’t at all sure she did.

They arranged to go to Whitfield again so that her parents could meet his mother. The dowager duchess gave a beautiful dinner for them. She seated Sarah’s father on her right, and spent the entire evening praising the beautiful girl who was to marry William. “You know,” she said nostalgically, “I never expected to have children, not after a certain point in my life … and then William came along, and he was the most extraordinary blessing. He’s never been a disappointment to me for a moment. He’s remained a blessing all his life. And now he’s found Sarah, and the blessing has been doubled.” It was such a sweet thing to say that it brought tears to Edward’s eyes, and they all felt like old friends by the end of the evening. He tried to urge her to come to New York with her son, but she insisted that she was too old, and too frail, and the long voyage would be too exhausting. “I haven’t even been to London in four years. I’m afraid that New York would really be too much. And it would be a nuisance for all of you to have an old woman to take care of, at such a busy time. I shall wait and see them when they come back here. I want to see to some improvements here in William’s house. I’m afraid my son has absolutely no idea what they’ll need, or what might make Sarah comfortable and happy. I want to make a few changes in his rustic little house, to make it more comfortable for her. And I think they should have a tennis court, don’t you? I hear they’re all the rage, and poor William is so old-fashioned.” As they went home that night, Edward marvelled at how lucky his daughter would be, to have a husband whom she loved so much, and who clearly adored her so passionately, and even a mother-in-law who cared so much about her happiness and comfort.

“Thank God,” he said gratefully to his wife that night as they undressed.

“She’s a very lucky girl,” Victoria agreed, but she felt lucky, too, and she kissed her husband tenderly, thinking of their own wedding, and their honeymoon, and how happy they had always been. She was happy knowing that Sarah would know some of that joy too. She had had such a dreadful time with Freddie, and the poor child really didn’t deserve it But the Fates had more than made it up to her now. William was larger than life, and a blessing for a lifetime.

On their last day in London, Sarah was a nervous wreck. She had a thousand things to do, and William wanted her to take a serious look at his house in London. He had bought it when he was eighteen, and it was a delightful accommodation for a bachelor, but he couldn’t imagine her being happy in it for very long. And he wanted to know now if she wanted him to look for something larger, or wait until they got back from their honeymoon in France, after Christmas.

“Darling, I love it!” she exclaimed as she examined the well designed and extremely tidy quarters. It wasn’t large, but it was, in all, no smaller than the apartment she had shared with Freddie. “I think it’s perfect. For now anyway.” She couldn’t imagine their needing more room until they had a baby. There was a large, sunny living room downstairs, a small library filled to the brim with beautifully bound old books William had brought from Whitfield years before, there was a cozy kitchen, a tidy dining room large enough for any dinner party she could manage, and upstairs there was one large, very handsome, and somewhat masculine bedroom. There were two baths, one which he used, and another for guests downstairs. As far as Sarah was concerned, it was perfect.

“What about closets?” He was trying to think of everything and this was all new to him, but more than anything he wanted her to be happy. “I’ll give you half of mine. I can move most of what I have down to Whitfield.” He was amazingly accommodating for a man who had always lived alone, and never been married.

“I just won’t bring any clothes.”

“I have a better idea. We’ll stay naked.” He was getting friskier knowing that soon she would be his wife.

But in any case, she loved his house, and she assured him that he didn’t need to find her another. “You’re very easy to please.”

“Wait,” she said mischievously at him. “Maybe I’ll turn into a shrew once we’re married.”

“If you do, I shall beat you, and it won’t be a problem.”

“That sounds exotic.” She raised an eyebrow and he laughed He could hardly wait to take off her clothes and make love to her for days on end. It was a good thing she was sailing the following morning.

They had dinner alone that night, and William brought her back to the hotel reluctantly. He would much rather have taken her home with him for their last night, but he was determined to behave like a man of honor, no matter what it cost him. And it was costing him dearly as they stood outside her hotel.

“This isn’t easy, you know,” he complained, “this respectable nonsense. I may appear in New York next week, and have to kidnap you somewhere. Waiting until December is beginning to seem inhuman.”

“It is, isn’t it,” she mused, but they both thought they should wait, although she was no longer quite sure why it had once seemed so important to both of them. And it was odd, as sad as it still made her to think about it, she was more philosophical about her miscarriage. If she hadn’t had that, she would have Freddie’s child, or maybe even still be married to Freddie. And now she was free to start a new life, with a clean slate, and she fervently hoped that she and William would have many, many children. They talked about five or six, or at least four, and the prospect obviously pleased him. Everything about his life with her excited him, and they could hardly wait, as he took her upstairs and stood outside her suite.

“Do you want to come in for a minute?” she suggested, and he nodded. Her parents had long since gone to bed, and he wanted to be with her for every possible moment they could share before she sailed in the morning.

He followed her in, and she dropped her wrap and her evening bag on a chair and offered him a brandy, but he declined it. There was something he had been waiting all evening to give her.

“Come and sit down with me, Miss Sarah.”

“Will you behave?” She looked at him teasingly and he laughed.

“Not if you look like that, and probably not anyway, but come and sit down for a minute. I can be trusted for that long, if not longer.”

He sat down on the chintz settee, and she sat down beside him, as he reached for something in his coat pocket. “Close your eyes,” he told her with a smile.

“What are you going to do to me?” She was laughing, but she closed her eyes anyway.

“Paint a mustache on you, you goose…. What do you think I’m going to do?” But before she could answer, he kissed her. And as he did, he took her left hand in his, and slipped a ring on her finger. She felt the chill of cool metal as it went on, and after he kissed her, she looked down at her hand nervously, and gasped at what she saw there. Even in the dimly lit room, she could see that it was an exquisite stone, and an old cut, which she greatly preferred to modern. There was a perfectly round, twenty carat, absolutely flawless diamond on her left hand.

“My father had it made for my mother at Garrard’s when they got engaged. It’s a very, very fine stone, and an old one. And she wanted you to have it.”

“This is your mother’s engagement ring?” She looked at him with tear-filled eyes.

“It is. She wants you to have it. We talked about it for a long time, and I was going to buy you a new one, but she wanted you to have this one. She can’t wear it anymore anyway, since she’s had arthritis.”

“Oh, William …” It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and she held out her hand and flashed it in the dim light. It was an absolutely fabulous engagement ring, and Sarah had never been so happy in her entire life.

“That’s just to remind you who you belong to, when you get on that bloody ship tomorrow, and go so damn far away I can’t bear to think about it at all. I’m going to be calling you every hour in New York until I get there.”

“Why don’t you come over early?” She was looking at the ring as she said it, and he smiled. He was pleased that she obviously loved it, and he knew his mother would be pleased too. It had been an incredibly generous gesture on her part.

“Actually, I might. I was thinking about October, but I’ve got so damn much to do here. I’ll have to see what’s happening with the farm by then.” There had been some problems he still had to work out, and he had to make an appearance at the House of Lords before he left London. “In any case, I’ll be there by die first of November without fail. I’m sure you’ll be half mad by then with plans for the wedding. And I’ll get in everyone’s hair, but I don’t give a damn. I can’t wait to see you any longer than that.” He kissed her longingly then, and the two of them almost forgot themselves as they lay on the couch, and he ran long, hungry fingers along her exquisite body. “Oh, Sarah … God …” She could feel him throbbing for her, but she wanted to wait until their wedding. She wanted this to be like the first time, as though there had been no other wedding, and no Freddie. If William had been the first man in her life, they would have waited, and so she wanted to now, except that there were moments like this one when she almost forgot that. Her legs moved aside, gently welcoming him, and he moved toward her powerfully, and then he forced himself to pull away from her and stood up with a groan of regret, but he wanted to wait, too, out of respect for her and their marriage. “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re leaving,” he said huskily as he walked around the room trying to calm his senses, and she stood up looking dishevelled and passionate as she nodded at him. And then suddenly, she laughed at him. They both looked like overheated children.

“Aren’t we awful?”

“Not really.” He laughed. “I can hardly wait.”

“Neither can I,” she confessed.

And then he asked her something he knew he shouldn’t. “Was it … was it ever like this … with him?” His voice was deep and sexual as he asked her, but he had wanted to know that for a long time. She had said she hadn’t loved him, but he always wondered a little about the rest.

Sarah shook her head slowly and sadly. “No, it wasn’t. It was empty … and without feeling…. Darling, he never loved me, and I know now that I never loved him. There has never been a love in my life like ours. … I have never loved, or lived, or even existed until you found me. And from now until I die, you will be my only love.” There were tears in his eyes this time when he kissed her. But this time, he didn’t let it go too far, and feeling happier than he had in his entire life, he left her until the next morning.

She lay awake for most of that night, thinking of him, and admiring her engagement ring in the dark. And the next morning, she called the Duchess of Whitfield to tell her how much the ring meant to her, how grateful she was to have it, and how much she loved William.

“That’s all that matters, dear. But jewels are always such fun, aren’t they? Have a safe trip … and a beautiful wedding.”

Sarah thanked her and finished her packing, and William met them an hour later in the lobby. She was wearing a white wool Chanel suit, made especially for her in Paris by Coco Chanel, and her smashing new engagement ring, and William almost devoured her when he kissed her. He hadn’t forgotten the desire she had aroused in him as they lay on the couch in her suite the night before, and he wished he were going with them on the Queen Mary. “I imagine your father is glad I’m not.”

“I think he’s been very impressed by your exemplary behavior.”

“Well, he wouldn’t be for long,” William groaned privately. “I think I’ve about reached my limit.” She grinned and they held hands as they followed her parents into his Bentley. He had volunteered to drive them to Southampton, and their luggage was going on ahead. But the two-hour drive went much too quickly. Sarah saw the familiar shape of the Queen Mary again, remembering how different things had been when they sailed from New York only two months before.

“You never know what life has in store for you.” Edward smiled benevolently at them, and offered to show William around the ship. But William was far more interested in staying close to Sarah, and he politely declined the invitation. Instead, he went to their staterooms with them, and then they went out on the deck. He stood there with an arm around her and a woebegone face until the last gong sounded and the last smokestack had roared to life, and he suddenly found himself terrified that they would meet some disaster. A cousin of his had been on the Titanic twenty-six years before, and he couldn’t bear thinking of anything happening to Sarah.

“Please God … take care of yourself. … I couldn’t live without you …” He clung to her like a life raft for their last moments.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. Just come to New York as soon as you can.”

“I will. Possibly by next Tuesday,” he said sadly, and she smiled again, and tears filled her eyes as he kissed her again.

“I’m going to miss you so awfully,” she said softly.

“Me too.” He clung to her, and at last one of the officers approached them with awe.

“Your Grace, I apologize for the intrusion, but I’m afraid … we will be sailing very shortly. You must go ashore now.”

“Right. Sorry.” He smiled apologetically. “Please take good care of my wife and her family, won’t you? My future wife, that is …” He beamed down at her, and the large, round diamond on her left hand glinted powerfully in the September sunshine.

“Of course, sir.” The officer looked impressed, and made a mental note to mention it to the captain. The future Duchess of Whitfield was travelling with them to New York, and there was no doubt that she would get every possible courtesy and, service.

“Take care, darling.” He kissed her one last time, shook hands with his future father-in-law, kissed Victoria warmly on the cheek and gave her a hug, and then he was down the gangplank. Sarah was crying in spite of herself, and even Victoria dabbed at her eyes with her hankie, it was so sweet to see them. He waved frantically from the shore until they could see him no more, and Sarah stood on the deck for two hours after they sailed, staring out to sea, as though if she tried hard enough she could still see him.

“Come downstairs now, Sarah,” her mother said gently. But there was nothing to mourn now. Only cause for celebration. And by the time Sarah got downstairs, there was a cable from William, and a bouquet of roses so large it barely fit through the door of her stateroom. “I can’t bear waiting another moment. I love you, William.” The card said, and her mother smiled, glancing at the beautiful engagement ring again. It was amazing to think what had happened to them in two short months. She could hardly believe it.

“You’re a very lucky girl, Sarah Thompson,” her mother said, and Sarah could only agree with her, while mentally trying out her new name … Sarah Whitfield…. She liked the way it sounded … it had a wonderful ring to it…. The Duchess of Whitfield, she whispered grandly, and then laughed to herself as she went to smell the huge bouquet of red roses on the table beside her bed.

The crossing on the Queen Mary seemed to drag by this time. All she wanted to do was get home and start planning for her wedding. She was pampered by everyone on the ship, once they realized that she was the future Duchess of Whitfield. They were invited to the captain’s table several times, and this time Sarah felt an obligation to be more obliging. Now she had a responsibility to William to be more outgoing, and her parents were pleased to see the change in her. William had done wonderful things for their daughter.

And when they arrived in New York, Peter and Jane were waiting for them, and this time they hadn’t brought the children. Jane was beside herself at all the news, and squealed with delight, unable to believe how beautiful Sarah’s ring was. They showed photographs of William to her in the car, and Peter and Edward chatted endlessly about the news from Europe.

In fact, it was a week to the day after their return that normal radio broadcasts were interrupted to bring Americans Hitler’s speech to his Nazi Congress at Nuremberg. It was an awesome, frightening speech, and his threats to Czechoslovakia were clear to all who heard them. He declared that Germany would no longer tolerate the oppression of the Sudeten Germans by the Czechs, and he revealed that close to three hundred thousand Germans were working to reinforce the German border along the Siegfried Line. The dangers were obvious, but the question remained as to what Hitler would actually do about it, and how the world would react when he did it. The venom and fury and hatred that had emanated from him as he spoke had shaken Americans to the core, as they listened to him, broadcast live to them over the airwaves, and for the first time the threat of war in Europe seemed real, It was obvious that, if nothing else, the Czechs were going to be devoured by the Germans. And no one who listened thought that was good news.

For the next week people spoke of nothing else. The newspapers announced that the armies of Europe were being mobilized, the fleets were at the ready, and Europe was waiting for Hitler’s next move.

And on September twenty-first, at eight-fifteen New York time, events in Prague finally reached a climax. The French and British ministers there announced that they would not mobilize on behalf of the Czechs, and risk Hitler’s fury. They offered Czechoslovakia no choice but to capitulate, and give itself over to the Nazi forces of Adolf Hitler. By 11 A.M. in New York, 5 P.M. in Prague, the government had come to the conclusion that it had no choice. Prague capitulated to the German forces, as their supporters around the world heard the news and cried.

And by then it was raining in New York, as though God were crying for the Czechs, as Sarah did as she listened to the broadcast. The broadcast had come to New York in an oddly roundabout way, due to “difficult” weather on the Atlantic, and in order to circumvent the problem, the broadcast had gone from Prague to Cape Town to Buenos Aires to New York. And could then be clearly heard. But by noon there was nothing left to hear. It was six o’clock in Czechoslovakia by then, and for them the fight was over. Sarah snapped off her radio, as did everyone else, and never heard the storm warnings that were issued at 1 P.M., announcing that a storm that had been hovering over the Atlantic might hit Long Island. The wind had picked up by then, and Sarah had been talking to her mother about going out to Southampton to start getting organized for the wedding She had a thousand things to plan and do, and the house on Long Island was a peaceful place to do them.

“You don’t really want to go out there in this awful weather, dear,” her mother replied. But the truth was, she really didn’t mind. She liked the beach in the rain. There was always something peaceful and soothing about it. But she knew her mother worried about her driving in bad weather, so she stayed home to help her mother in town. Her father had already called the man who owned the farm she had put the deposit on, and had explained to him that his daughter was getting married and moving to England instead. He had been extremely nice, and given Sarah her money back, although her father had still scolded her for doing something so foolish, and he assured her that he would never have let her live alone in a fallen-down farmhouse on Long Island She had taken the money back from him apologetically, and put it in the bank. It was the thousand dollars she had gotten for selling the wedding ring she had gotten from Freddie, a useless item she had never missed.

But she wasn’t thinking of the farm, or even the wedding, that afternoon, as the rain grew worse in New York. She was thinking about Prague and the terrifying situation there, when she suddenly heard a ferocious rattling of her bedroom windows. It was two o’clock by then, and when she looked at the window it was so dark it almost looked like midnight. The trees outside her parents’ apartment were bent low in the wind, and she thought she’d never seen such a fierce storm in New York, and at that exact moment her father came home early.

“Is something wrong?” Victoria asked him worriedly.

“Have you seen that storm?” he asked her. “I could barely make it out of the car and into the building. I had to hold on to the awning poles and two men on the street had to help me.” He turned to his daughter then with a worried frown. “Have you been listening to the news?” He knew how well-informed she was, and that she often listened to the news bulletins in the afternoon, if she was at home with her mother.

“Only about Czechoslovakia.” She told him the latest about that then, and he shook his head.

“This is no ordinary storm,” he said ominously, and went to his bedroom to change. He came back out in rough gear five minutes later.

“What are you doing?” Victoria asked nervously. He had a habit of doing things beyond his skills or his years, as though to prove that he could still do them, even if he never had before. He was a strong, able man, but he was clearly no longer as young as he had been.

“I want to drive out to Southampton and make sure everything’s all right there. I called Charles an hour ago, and the phone didn’t answer.” Sarah looked at her father’s eyes only for an instant, and then spoke firmly.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, you won’t,” he argued with her, and Victoria began to look really angry at both of them. “You’re both ridiculous. It’s just a storm, and if something is wrong out there, there’s nothing either of you can do about it.” An old man and a young girl were not going to be able to fight the forces of nature. But neither of them shared that opinion with her. As her father put his overcoat on, Sarah emerged from her room in some of the old clothes she had worn during her year of solitude on Long Island. She had on heavy rubber boots, khaki pants, a fisherman’s sweater, and a slicker.

“I’m coming with you,” she announced again, and he hesitated, and then shrugged. He was too worried to argue.

“All right. Let’s go. Victoria, don’t worry, we’ll call you.” She was still furious with both of them when they left. She put the radio on as they went downstairs, got in the car, and set off toward the Sunrise Highway en route to Southampton. Sarah had offered to drive, but her father had laughed at her.

“I may be old and feeble in your eyes, but I’m not crazy.” She laughed and reminded him that she was a very competent driver. But they said little to each other after that. The force of the winds made it almost impossible for him to keep the car on the road and more than once, the wind pushed the heavy Buick a dozen feet sideways.

“Are you all right?” she asked him once or twice, and he only nodded grimly, his lips a tight line across his face, his eyes narrowed to see through the driving rain.

They were still driving along the Sunrise Highway when they both saw a strange, high bank of fog roll across the sea and settle itself against the coastline. And it was only shortly after that they realized that what they were seeing was not fog, but a giant wave. A forty-foot wall of water was pounding relentlessly against the eastern seaboard, and as they watched in horror, houses disappeared in its jaws, and two feet of water eddied and swirled across the highway around their car.

It was another four hours of relentlessly driving through the pounding rain before they reached Southampton. And as they approached the estate they loved so dearly, they both were silent, and then Sarah realized that the landscape had brutally changed. Houses that she had known all her life had disappeared, entire estates, most of Westhampton seemed to have vanished. And some of the houses there had been enormous They only learned later that Edward’s lifelong friend, J. P. Morgan, had lost his entire estate in Glen Cove. But for the moment, all they could see was the endless desolation around them. Trees uprooted everywhere, houses reduced to kindling if they were there at all. In some cases, an entire segment of land, and dozens of houses built on it for hundreds of years, had vanished. There were cars overturned everywhere, and Sarah suddenly realized the extraordinary skill her father had used to get them there. In fact, as they looked around them as they continued driving, Westhampton seemed literally to have disappeared from the face of the Long Island coast. They learned later that a hundred and fifty-three of the hundred and seventy-nine houses there had vanished entirely, and the land they sat on was gone too. And of those that were left, they were too battered to rebuild or live in.

Sarah felt her heart sink as they drove slowly toward Southampton, and when they reached their own house, their gates were gone. They had been picked up out of the ground and uprooted, along with the stone posts that held them, and all of it had been turned to rubble and tossed hundreds of yards away. It looked like a child’s model railroad, but the tragedy was that the damage was real, the losses too great to fathom.

All of their beautiful old trees were down, but the house still stood in the distance. From where they were, it looked as though it had been untouched. But as they drove past the caretaker’s cottage, they saw that it literally stood on end, and all of its contents had been spilled across the ground like so much garbage.

Her father parked the old Buick as close to the main house as he could. Half a dozen huge trees lay across the road, barring him from going any farther. They left the car and walked through the driving rain, battered by the winds, with sharp needles of rain lashing at their faces. Sarah tried to turn her face away from the wind, but it was virtually useless, and as they walked around the house they saw that the entire eastern side, facing the beach, had been torn off and part of the roof with it. You could see some of the contents still within, her parents’ bed, her own, the piano in the parlor. But the entire face of the building had been ripped off by the relentless wall of water that had come and washed it away. It brought tears to her eyes, which mingled with the rain, but when she turned to her father, she could see that he was crying as hard as she was. He loved this place, and he had built it years before, carefully planning everything. Her mother had designed the house when they were small, and together they had chosen each tree, each beam, and everything that was in it. And the huge trees that had been there had been there for hundreds of years before they came, and now they were gone forever It all seemed impossible to believe or understand. This had been her joy through her childhood, arid her refuge for an entire year, and now it was so desperately damaged. And one look at her father’s face told her he feared worse.

“Oh, Papa …” Sarah moaned as she clung to him, the two of them tossed together intermittently by the wind as though they floated on waves. It was a sight that defied the imagination. He pulled her close to him and shouted above the shrieking of the wind that he wanted to go back to the gatehouse;

“I want to find Charles.” He was a kind man, and during the year she had hidden out there, Charles had taken care of her like a father.

But he was nowhere in the little house, and everywhere on the grass around them were his belongings, his clothes, his food, his furniture smashed to bits, even his radio lay yards from the house, but he was nowhere to be found, and Edward was seriously worried about him. They went back to the main house then, and when they did, Sarah realized that the little bathhouse was gone, as was the boathouse, and the trees around them. The trees stood on end, or lay broken on the narrow lip of beaten sand that had been a broad white beach only at noontime that day. And as she looked at the trees in dismay, suddenly she saw him There were ropes in his hands, as though he’d been trying to tie things down, and he was wearing his old yellow slicker. He had been pinned to the ground by a tree that had previously stood on the front lawn, and had flown at least two hundred yards to kill him. The sand might have cushioned his fall, but the tree was so enormous, it must have broken his neck or his back as it felled him. She mourned silently as she ran to him, and knelt beside him, brushing the sand from his bruised face as she touched him. Her father saw her then, and he cried pitifully as he worked to help her free him, and together they carried him to the shelter of the other side of the house and laid him gently down in what had been the kitchen. He had worked for Edward’s family for over forty years, and they had known and liked each other as young men. He was ten years older than Edward, and Edward couldn’t believe he was gone now. He was like a boyhood friend, faithful to the end, killed in the storm no one had warned them of, as all eyes turned to Prague and everyone forgot Long Island. It was the largest storm of its kind ever to hit the eastern seaboard. Entire towns were gone, and it lashed its way with equal force across Connecticut, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire after that, taking seven hundred lives, injuring close to two thousand, and destroying everything it touched before it was finally gone.

The house in Southampton was not irreparably destroyed, but the death of Charles affected all the Thompsons. Peter and Jane and Victoria came out for the funeral, and for a week the elder Thompsons and Sarah stayed in the house to try to assess the damage and bring some kind of order back to the estate. Only two rooms were even usable, there was no heat, no electricity, and they used candles, and ate in the only restaurant still functioning in Southampton. It would take months to repair the house, years perhaps, and Sarah was sad to be leaving them when this had happened.

Sarah managed to get a call through to William from the little restaurant where they ate, fearing that he might have heard of the storm in the papers and been worried. Even in Europe the destruction of Long Island had caused quite a flutter.

“My God, are you all right?” William’s voice had crackled across the line.

“I’m fine,” she said, relieved to hear his calm, strong voice. “But we’ve pretty much lost our house. It’s going to take my parents forever to rebuild it, but we didn’t lose the land. Most people lost everything.” She told him about Charles losing his life, and he told her he was very sorry.

“I’ll be awfully happy when you’re back here. I almost died when I heard about this blasted storm. I somehow imagined you might have been out there for the weekend.”

“I almost was,” she admitted to him.

“Thank God, you weren’t. Please tell your parents how sorry I am, and I’ll be over as soon as I can, darling. I promise.”

“I love you!” she shouted across the crackling wires.

“I love you too! Try to stay out of trouble till I get there!”

They went back to the city shortly after that, and eight days after the storm, the Munich Pact was signed, giving everyone in Europe the delusion that any threat from Hitler was over. Neville Chamberlain called it “peace with honor” when he returned from Munich But William wrote and told her that he still didn’t trust the little bastard in Berlin.

William was planning to come in early November, and Sarah was busy with plans for the wedding, while her parents tried to organize both that and the extensive repairs to the house on Long Island.

William arrived on November fourth, on the Aquitania, with full fanfare. Sarah was waiting for him at the pier, with her parents, her sister, her brother-in-law, and their children. And the next day her parents gave a huge dinner party for him, and it seemed as though everyone she’d ever known in New York wanted to send them invitations to parties. It was a social whirl without end.

Six days later, they were having breakfast together in the dining room, as Sarah frowned and looked up at him from the morning paper

“What does all this mean?” She looked at him accusingly, it seemed, and he looked blank. He had only just arrived from his hotel and hadn’t yet read the paper.

“What does what mean?” He came to read the paper over her shoulder, and frowned as he read the accounts of Kristallnacht, while trying to assess the implications. “Sounds like an ugly business, that.”

“But why? Why would they do that?” The Nazis had smashed the windows of every Jewish shop and home, looted, killed, and destroyed synagogues, and generally terrorized people. And it said that some thirty thousand Jews had been taken off to labor camps. “My God, William, how can they do that?”

“The Nazis don’t like Jews. That’s no secret, Sarah.”

“But this? This?” There were tears in her eyes as she read it, and finally handed the paper to him so he could read it too. When Sarah’s father came in to breakfast, they told him everything and spent an hour discussing the continuing dangers in Europe, and then her father thought of something as he looked at them both. “I want you both to promise me, if war breaks out over there, that you’ll come back to the States until it’s over.”

“I can’t promise that for myself,” William told him honestly, “but I promise you, I’ll send you Sarah.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” She looked angrily at her fiancé for the first time. “You can’t just dispose of me like a suitcase, or mail me home like a letter.”

William smiled at her. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. But I think your father’s right. If something happens there, I think you should come home. I remember the last war, when I was a boy, and it’s not pleasant living with the threat of invasion.”

“And you? Where would you go?”

“I’d probably have to go back to active duty. I don’t think it looks quite right if the peers all disappear and take a long vacation abroad.”

“Aren’t you too old to go?” She suddenly looked frankly worried.

“Not really. And darling, I’d really have to.”

The three of them earnestly hoped there wouldn’t be a war, but none of them were hopeful as they finished their breakfast.

The following week, Sarah went to court with her father and was given her final papers. Her divorce decree was handed to her, and in spite of everything, in spite of the future waiting for her, she felt a crushing wave of humiliation. She had been such a fool to marry Freddie, and he had turned out to be such a louse. He was still engaged to marry Emily Astor in Palm Beach at Christmas. And she didn’t really care now, but Sarah was sorry she had ever married him at all.

It was only two weeks until their wedding by then, and all William cared about was being near her. They went out constantly, and it was a relief when they settled down to a quiet family meal on Thanksgiving at the apartment in New York. It was a new experience for William and he liked it, and found it very touching to be there with them all.

“I hope you’ll do that for us every year,” he told Sarah afterwards, as they sat in the living room, and her sister played the piano. The children had already been taken upstairs, and it was a nice quiet time among them. Peter and William seemed to get on well, and Jane was enormously impressed with William. She had told literally everyone she knew that Sarah was going to be a duchess But it wasn’t that which impressed Sarah about him, it was William’s gentleness she loved, his wit, his sharp mind, his kindness. Oddly enough, the title seemed to mean nothing to her.

The last week was exhausting for her. There were last-minute details to attend to for the wedding, as well as packing the small things. Her trunks with her clothes had been sent ahead. And she wanted to see a few old friends, but the truth was that she was ready to leave now. She spent the day before die wedding with him, and they went for a long quiet walk on Sutton Place, next to the East River.

“Will you be sad to leave, my love?” He liked her family a lot, and imagined it would be hard for her to leave them, but her answer surprised him.

“Not really. In a way, I left all this last year, even before that In my heart of hearts, I never planned to come back here once I settled on Long Island.”

“I know,” he smiled. “Your farmhouse …” But now, even that was gone. All of its buildings and its land had vanished in the storm that hit Long Island in September. She would have lost everything, maybe even her life, as Charles had. And William was deeply glad she had not.

She smiled up at him then. “I’m anxious for our life now.” She wanted a life with him, wanted to know him better, his heart, his life, his friends, his likes and dislikes, his soul … his body. She wanted to have children with him, to have a home with him, to be his, to be always there to help him.

“So am I,” he confessed. “It has seemed a long wait, hasn’t it?” And there had been so many people around them to distract them. But that was almost over. Tomorrow, at this same time, they’d be husband and wife, the Duke and Duchess of Whitfield.

They stood looking at the river for a moment then, and he pulled her close to him with a serious air. “May our life always run smoothly … and when it doesn’t, may we be brave, for each other and ourselves.” He turned to look at her then with immeasurable love, which was more important to her than any title. “May I never disappoint you.”

“Or I you,” she whispered softly, as they watched the river drift by.

Chapter 10

HERE were ninety-three friends in her parents’ home that afternoon, and Sarah came down the stairs on her father’s arm looking beautiful and demure. She wore her long, dark hair in a full chignon, and above it a beautiful beige lace-and-satin hat, with a small veil that just seemed to add a touch of mystery when she wore it. Her dress was beige satin and lace, and she carried an armful of small beige orchids. Her shoes were beige satin, too, and she looked tall and elegant as she stood in the flower-filled dining room beside the duke. The dining room had been turned into a chapel of sorts for the occasion. Jane wore navy-blue silk organza and Victoria wore a brilliant-green satin suit, designed for her by Elsa Schiaparelli in Paris. The guests were a group of the most distinguished names in New York, and understandably, none of the Van Deerings were among them.

After the ceremony, where William discreetly kissed the bride and she beamed up at him, knowing that her life had just changed forever, the guests were seated for dinner at tables in the drawing room, and the dining room became a ballroom. It was a perfect evening for all of them, subtle, discreet, beautiful, and everyone thought it was a lovely wedding, especially the bride and groom. They danced almost until the end, and then Sarah had a last dance with her father, while William danced with his new mother-in-law, and told her how much he had enjoyed the wedding.

“Thank you, Papa, for everything,” Sarah whispered to her father as they danced to the strains of “The Way You Look Tonight.” “It was perfect.” They were always so good to her, so kind, and if they hadn’t insisted on taking her to Europe the summer before, she wouldn’t have met William. She tried to say all that to him in the course of one dance, but her voice was too full of tears, and he was afraid he’d cry, too, and he didn’t want to in front of all their friends.

“It’s all right, Sarah.” He squeezed her lovingly for an instant, and then smiled down on his younger daughter, thinking how much he loved her. “We love you. Come and see us when you can, and we’ll visit you!”

“You’d better!” She sniffed delicately, and they danced on as she clung to him for a last time. It was her second chance to be his baby, just for one last moment. And then William gently cut in on them, and looked down at her, and saw not the child, but the woman.

“Are you ready to leave, Your Grace?” he asked her politely, and she giggled.

“Are people really going to call me that for the rest of my life?”

“I’m afraid so, darling. I told you… it’s an awesome burden at times.” What he said was only half in jest. “Her Grace, the Duchess of Whitfield… I must say, it suits you.” She looked extremely aristocratic as he looked at her when they stopped dancing, and she was wearing the magnificent pear-shaped diamond earrings he had given her as a wedding present, with a necklace of matching diamond drops.

They said their good-byes quickly then, and she threw her bouquet from the stairs before she left. She kissed her parents, and thanked them, knowing she’d be seeing them again at the ship the next day when they sailed. She kissed Peter and Jane, and ran out to the kitchen for a last time to thank the servants. And then suddenly, in a hail of rice and flowers, they were gone, in a borrowed Bentley, to stay at the Waldorf-Astoria for the night. There were tears in Sarah’s eyes for a moment as she left them. Her life was going to be so different now. It was all very different this time. She loved William so much more, but they were going to be living so far away, in England. And for an instant, she already felt homesick at the thought of leaving all of them. She was quiet in the car, on the way to the hotel, overwhelmed by her own emotions.

“My poor love.” It was as though he read her mind most of the time. “I’m taking you away from all these people who love you. But I love you, too, I promise you. And I promise that I will always do my best to make you happy wherever we are.” He pulled her tight into his arms and she felt safe there as she whispered to her husband.

“So will I.”

They rode the rest of die way to the hotel holding each other close, and feeling tired and at peace. It had been a wonderful day, but it had also been exhausting.

As they arrived at the Waldorf-Astoria on Park Avenue, the manager of the hotel was waiting for them, bowing and scraping, and assuring them of his abject devotion. Sarah found herself amused by the whole thing. It was so ridiculous, and by the time they got to their enormous suite in the Towers, she was laughing and her spirits had revived.

“Shame on you,” William scolded her, but he didn’t really mean it. “You’re supposed to take that sort of thing very seriously! Poor man, he would have kissed your feet if you’d let him. And you probably should have,” William teased. He was used to that sort of performance, but he knew she wasn’t.

“He was so silly, I couldn’t keep a straight face.”

“Well, you’d better get used to it, my love. This is only the beginning. And it will all go on for a long, long time. Longer than we will, I’m afraid.”

It was the beginning of many things, and William had thought of everything to start their life off happily and well. Her luggage had been brought there that morning, her white lace nightgown and dressing gown had been laid out with her white lace slippers. He had ordered champagne, which was already waiting in the room for them. And shortly after they arrived, while they were still chatting about the wedding, arid sipping champagne in the suite’s little room, two waiters delivered a midnight supper. He had ordered Caviar and smoked salmon, some scrambled eggs, in case she’d been too nervous to eat before, which she had, and she hadn’t wanted to admit to him now that she was starving. And there was a tiny wedding cake, complete with a marzipan bride and groom, courtesy of the manager of the hotel and their master baker.

“You really do think of everything!” she exclaimed, looking like a tall, graceful child as she clapped her hands, looking at the cake and the caviar. The waiters instantly disappeared. William took a step closer to her and kissed her.

“I thought you might be hungry.”

“You know me too well.” She laughed as she dove into the caviar, and he joined her. And at midnight, they were still chatting, although they had finished their supper by then. There seemed to be an endless source of common interests, and fascinating subjects to discuss, and tonight most of all. But he had other things in mind, and at last he yawned and stretched, trying to give her the hint discreetly.

“Am I boring you?” She looked suddenly worried and he laughed. In some ways, she was still very young and he loved that.

“No, my love, but this old man is tired to the bone. Could I induce you to continue this fascinating conversation in the morning?” They had been discussing Russian literature, as compared to Russian music, a subject that was hardly pressing on that very special night.

“I’m sorry.” She was tired, too, but she was so happy being with him that she didn’t mind if they stayed up all night talking. And she was very young. In some ways, at twenty-two, she was still barely more than a child.

The suite had two bathrooms, and he disappeared into his own a few moments later. Sarah went to hers, humming to herself, with her lace nightgown and her slippers, and her little makeup case in her hand. It seemed hours before she emerged again, and he waited for her discreetly with the lights off, beneath the sheets. But in the soft light from the bathroom he could see how stunning she looked in the lace nightgown as she emerged.

She tiptoed hesitantly toward the bed, her long, dark hair hanging alluringly over one shoulder, and even at a short distance he could smell the magic of the perfume she wore. She always wore Chanel No. 5, and just the scent of it reminded him of her whenever he smelled it. He lay quietly there for a moment, in the dim light from across the room, watching her, and she looked like a young doe as she hesitated and then moved slowly toward him.

“William…” she whispered softly “Are you asleep …?” And as he looked at her hungrily, he could only laugh. He had waited five months for this, and she actually thought he had gone to sleep on their wedding night before she got there. He loved her innocence sometimes, and her absurd sense of humor. She was wonderful, but tonight, he loved her even more.

“No, I’m not sleeping, my love,” he whispered in the darkness with a smile. He was anything but asleep as he reached out gently for her and she came toward him. She sat down on the bed next to him, a little bit afraid now that there were no longer any barriers between them anymore. He sensed that easily, and he was infinitely gentle and patient with her as he kissed her. He wanted her to want him as much as he did now. He wanted everything to be easy and perfect and right. But it only took an instant to kindle her flame for him, and as his hands began to drift toward places they had never been, she found a passion awakening in herself that had never before been there. What she had known of love before was limited, and brief, and almost entirely devoid of tenderness or feeling. But William was a very different man than any she had ever known, and certainly a lifetime away from Freddie Van Deering.

William was aching for her as he gently fondled her breasts, and then moved his hands down over her slim hips to where her legs joined. His fingers were gentle and deft, and she was moaning as he pulled the nightgown over her head finally and tossed it somewhere on the floor. He rolled gently over on her then, and entered her with all the restraint he could muster. But he didn’t have to restrain himself for long. He was surprised and pleased to find her an eager and energetic partner. And trying to fulfill the desire they had both felt for so long, they made love until the dawn, until they both lay back, entwined in each other’s limbs, sated to the soul, and totally exhausted.

“My God … if I’d had any idea that’s how it would have been, I’d have thrown you to the ground and attacked you right there, that first afternoon at George and Belinda’s.” Sarah smiled sleepily as she looked at him. She was happy that she had satisfied him, and he had done things to her that she had never even dreamed of.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” she said softly.

“Neither did I.” He smiled and rolled over to look at her. She was even more beautiful to him now that he had possessed her. “You’re a remarkable woman.” She blushed faintly as he said the words, and a few minutes later, they drifted off to sleep, holding each other tightly, like two happy children.

They were both startled two hours later, when the phone rang at eight o’clock. It was the front desk, with their wake-up call. They had to be on board the ship at ten o’clock that morning.

“Oh, God …” He groaned, blinking as he groped for the light and the phone at the same time, and then he thanked them politely for calling. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling their love or the champagne, but he felt as though someone had drained him of every drop of life force he had ever had. “I suddenly know what Samson must have felt like after he met Delilah.” He tugged at a long wisp of dark hair curled loosely over one firm breast, and he bent to kiss her nipple and felt himself rise again, unable to believe it. “I think maybe I’ve died and gone to heaven.” They made love again before they got up, and then they had to hurry to dress for the sailing. They didn’t even have time to eat, just to swallow a quick cup of tea before they left, and they were laughing and teasing as they closed their bags and hurried to die waiting limousine, while Sarah tried to look dignified, and suitably like a duchess.

“I had no idea duchesses did things like that,” she whispered to him in the car after they had put up the window between themselves and the driver.

“They don’t. You’re quite remarkable, my darling, believe me.” But he looked as though he had found the Hope Diamond in his shoe as they boarded the Normandie at Pier 88 on West 50th Street. He felt faintly disloyal taking a French ship, but they were so much more fun, and he had heard that the Normandie offered a marvelous crossing.

They were greeted as royalty, and put in the Deauville suite, on the Sun Deck. Its twin suite, the Trouville, was occupied at the time by the maharaja of Karpurthala, who had occupied it several times since his trip on the maiden voyage.

William was very pleased as he looked around their stateroom. “I hate to say it, but the French Line has poor Cunard beaten sadly when it comes to creature comforts.” He had never seen such luxury on a ship, in all his travels around the world. It was a glorious ship, and what they had seen of her as they boarded promised a truly extraordinary crossing.

Their stateroom was filled with champagne and flowers and baskets of fruit, and Sarah noticed that one of the prettiest bouquets came from her parents, and there was another from Peter and Jane. A moment later they arrived, and as Jane whispered a question to her sister the two of them giggled like young girls. But before they sailed Sarah and William both thanked the Thompsons again for the lovely wedding.

“We had a marvelous time,” William assured Edward again. “It was perfect in every way.”

“The two of you must have been exhausted.”

“We were.” William tried to look vague, and hoped that he succeeded. “We had a little champagne when we got to the hotel, and then just collapsed.” But as he said it, Sarah caught his eye, and William hoped that he wasn’t blushing. He pinched her bottom discreetly as he went by, and Victoria was telling Sarah how well her new dress looked on her. They had bought it at Bonwit Teller for her trousseau. It was a white cashmere dress with a wonderful drape on one hip, and over it she had worn the new mink coat her parents had just given her as a present. They told her it would keep her warm during the long English winters. And it looked very stylish on her with a rakish hat trimmed with two enormous black feathers that were attached at the back.

“You look lovely, dear,” her mother said, and for the flash of a moment, Jane felt a pang of jealousy for her sister. She was going to have such a glamorous life, and William was such a dashing man. She loved her own husband dearly, but their life was certainly not exciting. But poor Sarah had had such a difficult time before. It was hard to believe that the sad tale had ended so happily for her. It really was a storybook ending. But the story wasn’t over yet either, and she hoped that Sarah would be happy in England with the duke. It was hard to think otherwise, he was so kind, and so handsome. Jane sighed as she looked at them, standing hand in hand, looking blissfully happy.

“Your Grace …” The chief ship’s officer came to the door of their stateroom and discreetly announced that all guests had to be ashore in the next few minutes. The announcement brought tears to Victoria and Jane’s eyes, and Sarah had to fight back tears as she kissed them, and her father, and Jane’s babies. She clung to all of them, and then hugged her father close for a last time.

“Write to me, please … don’t forget … we’ll be back in London just after Christmas.” They were going to spend the holiday on the Continent alone. William’s mother insisted that she had so many things to do at Whitfield that she would scarcely miss them. And William loved the idea of spending Christmas alone with Sarah in Paris.

She put her fur coat back on, and they all went out on the deck where they kissed her again, and shook hands with William, and then Edward shepherded his little tribe down the gangplank. There were tears in his eyes, too, and as his eyes met Sarah’s from the dock, the tears began to slide unrestrained down his cheeks and he didn’t even try to hide them.

“I love you,” she mouthed, waving frantically with one hand, and clinging to William with the other. She blew kisses to all of them as they left the dock in a hail of confetti and streamers, and somewhere on another deck a band played the “Marseillaise,” and as she watched them drift away from her, she knew she would never forget how much they all meant to her at that moment.

William held tightly to her hand until the huge ship began slowly to turn into the Hudson River, and then they could no longer see anyone on the dock. There were tears running down her cheeks, and a sob caught in her throat as he pulled her into his arms again. “It’s all right, darling, I’am here…. We’ll come back to see them soon. I promise.” And he meant it.

“I’m sorry … it seems so ungrateful of me…. It’s just … I love them all so much … and I love you …” So much had happened in the past few days, she was still a little overwhelmed by all her emotions. He led her back to their cabin again, and offered her some more champagne, but she admitted with a tired smile that what she really longed for was a cup of coffee.

He rang for the steward then and ordered coffee for her, and jasmine tea for himself, and a plate of cinnamon toast in lieu of breakfast. And they sat munching and drinking and chatting and soon her grief had ebbed, and she was feeling better. He liked that about her though, that she cared so much, and she was so open about her feelings.

“What would you like to do today?” he asked as he glanced over the menus and the brochures, showing them all the sports and diversions that were offered on the enormous ship. “Want to swim in the pool before lunch? Or have a game of shuffleboard? We can go to the cinema right after tea. Let’s see, they’ve got Marcel Pagnol’s The Baker’s Wife playing, if you haven’t seen it.” In truth, she had, and she had loved Pagnol’s Harvest the year before, but she didn’t care. It was so much fan doing things with him, and she moved closer to look at the brochure with him. She was amazed at how much the French Line offered their passengers, and as she read, she felt him touch her neck, and then his hand slid slowly to her breast, and then suddenly he was kissing her, and the next tiling she knew they were on the bed, and all other forms of diversion were forgotten. It was lunchtime by the time they came to their senses again, and she laughed huskily as she munched on a piece of the cinnamon toast that still sat on a plate near the bed.

“I guess we’re not going to be doing much in the way of sports this trip, eh?”

“I’m not entirely sure we’re ever going to get out of the cabin.” And as though to prove that to him, she teased him again and he took her up on it rather more quickly than she had expected.

They made it all the way to the bathtub after that, and made love again there, and by the time they ventured out again, it was late afternoon, and they were both looking a little embarrassed at the hours they’d kept.

“We’re going to get a hell of a reputation on this ship,” William whispered to her. “It’s a good thing we’ve come over on the French Line.”

“Do you suppose they know?” Sarah looked a little nervous. “After all, it is our honeymoon …”

“Oh God, that’s right. How could I forget. You know, I think I forgot my wallet on the desk. Do you mind if we go back for it?”

“Not at all,” she agreed amenably, but unable to imagine why he needed it here. But he was quite insistent. So she went back to the stateroom with him, and followed him inside. He shut the door as she walked in, and as soon as the door was closed behind them, he grabbed her.

“William!” she squealed, as he laughed, and she began to giggle. “You’re a sex fiend!”

“I’m not … I assure you, normally I’m quite respectable. It’s all your fault!” he said as he devoured her neck and her arms and her breasts and her thighs and even more appealing places.

“My fault? What have I done?” But she was loving every minute of it, as they collapsed to the floor of the sitting room and he began to make love to her again.

“You’re far, far too appealing,” he said as he closed his eyes and entered her while they still had half their clothes on, and lay on the stateroom floor.

“So are you,” she muttered, and then gave a small cry, and it was a long time before they got up again and made it all the way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake.

They didn’t even bother to go to dinner that night, and when their room steward called them on the phone, offering dinner in their rooms, William declined, announcing mournfully that they were both seasick. He offered crackers and soup instead, but William insisted that they were both sleeping, and after he hung up, the little Frenchman grinned at the maid.

“Mal de mer?” she asked knowingly, wondering if they were seasick, but the little steward winked. He had gotten a good look at them, and knew better.

“Mon oeil. Lune de miel” Honeymoon, he explained, and she laughed as he pinched her bottom.

William and Sarah emerged onto the deck the next morning looking healthy and rested, and William seemed unable to stop smiling at her. Sarah laughed at him as they walked around the deck and settled into two deck chairs.

“You know, people really will know what we’ve been up to if you don’t stop grinning.”

“I can’t help it. I’ve never been so happy in my life. When can we go back to the cabin? I swear, it’s becoming an addiction.”

“I’m going to call the captain if you lay a hand on me again. I’m not going to be able to walk by the time we get to Paris.”

“I’ll carry you.” He grinned as he leaned over and kissed her again. But she didn’t look the least bit dismayed by what had happened. She was loving it, too, and loving him. But that day they made an effort to discover the ship, and managed to stay out of bed until teatime. Then they allowed themselves a brief reward, and forced themselves to get their clothes on again in time for dinner.

Sarah loved going to the dining room on the Normandie. It was a fairyland of elegance, with ceilings three decks high, and the room itself was slightly longer than the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles, and no less impressive. The ceiling was gilt, and on the walls there were columns of soft lighting twenty feet high. They descended an endless, blue-carpeted staircase when they arrived, and William was wearing white tie, as were all the other men.

“Does the fact that we’re eating in the dining room tonight,” she whispered to him, “mean that the honeymoon is over?”

“I was a little bit afraid of that myself,” he confided to her as he devoured his soufflé. “I think we ought to go back to the room as soon as we finish.” She giggled at him, and they managed to stop in the Grand Salon above the dining room and dance for a while, before they took a last walk on the deck and kissed beneath the stars. Then at last they went back to their stateroom. It was the perfect honeymoon, and they had a wonderful time, swimming and walking and dancing and eating, and making love. It was like being suspended between two worlds, their old one and their new one. They tried to stay away from everyone, although most people in first class were aware of who they were, and more than once she heard people whisper as they walked by, “The Duke and Duchess of Whitfield .” “Windsor?” one dowager asked. “She’s much younger than I thought … and better looking …” Sarah had been unable to repress a smile, and William had subtly pinched her and called her Wallis after that.

“Don’t ever call me that, or I shall start calling you David!”

Sarah hadn’t met them yet, but William had told her they would probably have to pay a visit to them in Paris “You might like her better than you expect. She’s not my cup of tea, but she’s really very charming. And he’s happier than he used to be, claims he can sleep now. I suppose I know why.” William grinned. He was sleeping remarkably well himself, in between orgies with his bride.

They dined at the captain’s table on the last night, and attended the Gala. They’d actually gone to the Fancy Dress Ball the night before, dressed as a maharaja and maharani, in costumes loaned to them by the purser, and jewels Sarah had brought along herself. The roles suited them well. William looked very handsome and Sarah looked extremely exotic. But her expertise with her makeup and naked belly had only won her an early return to their stateroom. The stewards were making bets now as to how long they could stay out of bed. And so far, four hours seemed to have been their limit.

“Maybe we should just stay on the ship,” Sarah suggested as she lay in bed, on their last night, dozing sporadically after they’d made love after the captain’s dinner. “I’m not at all sure I want to go to Paris at all.” William had reserved an apartment for them at the Ritz, and they were going to stay there for a month, while taking driving tours around the châteaux outside Paris. They wanted to go to Bordeaux, and the Loire, and Tours … and the Faubourg-St Honoré, she had said with a grin … to Chanel and Dior and Mainbocher … and Balenciaga.

“You’re a wicked girl.” William accused her, as he got back into bed beside her, suddenly wondering if after all this lovemaking for the past week, they might have made a baby. He wanted to ask her about it, but he still felt a little awkward, and finally, later that night, he got up his courage. “You … uh … you never got pregnant, did you, when you were married before, I mean?” He was just curious, and he had never asked her. But her answer surprised him.

“Yes, I did, as a matter of fact.” She said it very softly, and she didn’t look at him as she said it.

“What happened?” It was obvious she didn’t have a child, and he couldn’t help but wonder why. He hoped she hadn’t had an abortion, it would have been so traumatic for her, and might have left her unable to have more children. He had never asked her about that before their marriage.

“I lost it,” she said quietly, the memory of that loss still pained her, even though she knew it was for the best now.

“Do you know why? Did something happen?” And then he realized what a stupid question he had asked her. With a marriage like hers, anything might have happened. “Never mind. It won’t happen again.” He kissed her gently and she drifted off to sleep a little while later, dreaming of babies and William.

The next morning, they left the ship at Le Havre, and took the boat train into Paris, and they laughed and chatted all the while, and as soon as they arrived they went straight to the hotel, and back out again to go shopping.

“Aha! I’ve found something you enjoy doing as much as making love. Sarah, I’m bitterly disappointed.” But they had a wonderful time going to Hermès, and Chanel, and Boucheron, and a handful of small jewelers. He bought her a wonderful wide sapphire bracelet, set with a diamond clasp, and a ruby necklace and earrings that were really stunning. And a huge ruby brooch at Van Cleef in the shape of a rose.

“My God, William… I feel so guilty” She knew he had spent an absolute fortune, but he didn’t seem to mind it And the jewelry he had bought her was fabulous and she loved it.

“Don’t be silly!” He brushed it off as an ordinary event. “Just promise me we won’t leave the room again for two days. That is the tax I will demand of you each time we go shopping.”

“Don’t you like to shop?” She looked briefly disappointed, he had seemed such a good sport about it the summer before.

“I love it. But I’d rather make love to my wife.”

“Oh that…” She laughed, and addressed his needs the moment they went back to their room at the Ritz. They went shopping repeatedly after that. He bought her beautiful clothes at Jean Patou, and a fabulous leopard coat at Dior, and an enormous string of pearls at Mouboussin, which she wore every hour of every day after that. They even managed to go to the Louvre, and on their second week there, they went to tea with the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. And Sarah had to admit that William was right. Although she’d been predisposed to dislike her, she actually found the duchess extremely charming. And he was a lovely man. Shy, cautious, reserved, but extremely kind when you got to know him. And very witty when he relaxed with people he knew well. It had been an awkward meeting with them at first, and much to Sarah’s chagrin, Wallis had tried to draw an unfortunate comparison between them. But William was quick to discourage any such comparison, and Sarah was faintly embarrassed by how cool he was to the duchess. There was no question about how he felt about her, and yet he had the utmost affection and respect for his cousin.

“Damn shame he ever married her,” he said on their way back to the hotel. “It’s incredible to think that, if it weren’t for her, he could still be the King of England.”

“I don’t get the feeling he ever really enjoyed it. But I could be mistaken.”

“You’re not. He didn’t. It didn’t suit him. But it was his duty anyway. I must say though, Bertie is doing a bang-up job of it. He’s an awfully good sport. And he absolutely hates that woman.”

“I can see why people are so taken with her though. She has a way of winding you around her little finger.”

“She is one of the truly great connivers. Did you see the jewelry he’s given her? That diamond-and-sapphire bracelet must have cost him an absolute fortune. Van Cleef made it for him when they got married.” And she had an entire parure to go with it by then, necklace, earrings, brooch, and two rings.

“I like the bracelet she was wearing on her other hand better,” Sarah said softly. “The little diamond chain with the little crosses.” It was far more discreet, and William made a mental note of it for a present for her later on. She’d also shown them a wonderful bracelet from Cartier that she’d just gotten, all made up of flowers and leaves in sapphires, rubies, and emeralds. And she’d called it her “fruit salad.”

“Anyway, we’ve done our duty, my dear. It would have been rude if we hadn’t called them. And now I can tell Mother we did. She was always so fond of David, I thought it would kill her when he gave up the throne.”

“And yet she said she didn’t mind when you did,” Sarah said sadly, still feeling guilty for what she’d cost him. She knew it would bother her for a lifetime, but it never seemed to bother William at all.

“That’s hardly the same thing,” William said gently. “He had the throne, darling. I never would have. Mother feels very strongly about these things. But she’s not ridiculous, she didn’t expect me to be king.”

“I suppose not.”

They got out of the car a few blocks before the hotel, and walked slowly back, talking again about the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. They had invited them to come back again, but William had explained that they were going to begin their driving trip the following morning.

They had already planned to visit the Loire, and he wanted to stop and see Chartres on the way. He had never been there.

And when they left the next morning, in a small hired Renault, which he drove, they were both in high spirits. They had taken a picnic lunch with them, in case they couldn’t find a restaurant along the way, and an hour outside Paris, everything was wonderfully rural and still green here and there. There were horses and cows and farms, and after another hour, sheep wandering across the road, and a goat stopped to stare at them as they ate their lunch in a field by the roadside. They had brought blankets and warm coats, but it wasn’t cold, and the weather was surprisingly sunny. They had expected rain, but so far, the weather had been perfect.

They had reservations at small hotels along the way, and they were planning to be away from Paris for eight or ten days. But on the third day, they were still only a hundred miles from Paris, in Montbazon, and loving the inn where they were staying too much to leave it.

The owner of the inn had told them several places to go, and they had gone to tiny churches, and a wonderful old farm, and two terrific antiques shops. And the local restaurant was the best they’d ever been to.

“I love this place,” Sarah said happily, devouring everything on her plate. She had been eating a lot better since they’d been in Paris, and she wasn’t quite as thin, which suited her very well. Sometimes William worried that being quite that thin wasn’t healthy.

“We really ought to move on tomorrow.”

They were both sorry to go when they left, and an hour later, much to William’s annoyance, their car stalled on the road. A local peasant helped them to get it started again, and gave them some more gas to get on their way, and half an hour later, they stopped for lunch near an ancient stone gate, with an elaborate iron grille that stood open, leading to an overgrown old road.

“It looks like the gate to heaven,” she teased.

“Or hell. Depending on what we deserve.” He smiled back. But he already knew his fate. He had been in heaven ever since he married Sarah.

“Want to go exploring?” She was always adventuresome and young and he enjoyed that about her.

“I suppose we could. But what if we get shot by some angry landlord?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. Besides, it looks like the place has been deserted for years,” she encouraged him.

“The whole country looks like that, you goose. This isn’t England.”

“Oh, you snob!” she hooted at him, and they began to walk down the lane that drifted away from the gates. They decided to leave their car near the road, so as not to draw more attention to their adventure.

And for a long time, it appeared to be nothing more than an old country road, until at last there was a long allée, bordered by huge trees, and overgrown with bushes. Had it been tidier, it might even have looked a little like the entrance to Whitfield, or the Southampton estate.

“It’s pretty here.” They could hear birds singing in the trees, and she hummed as they wandered through the tall grass and the bushes.

“I don’t think there’s much here,” William finally said, when they were almost at the end of the double border of tall trees, and just as he said it, he saw an enormous stone building in the distance. “Good Lord, what is that?” It looked like Versailles, sitting there, except as they approached they could see that it was in desperate need of repair. The entire place was ramshackle and deserted, and some of the outbuildings seemed almost ready to collapse. There was a small cottage at the foot of the hill that must have been a caretaker’s cottage years before, but now it was barely still a building.

There were stables off to the right, and huge barns for carriages as well. William was fascinated and glanced inside as they walked past them. There were two ancient carriages still sitting there, with the crest of the family carefully gilded on the panels.

“What an amazing place.” He smiled at her, glad that she had urged him to explore it.

“What do you suppose it is?” Sarah looked around her, at the carriages, the halters, the old blacksmith tools, with fascination.

“It’s an old château, and those were the stables. The whole place looks as though it’s been deserted for two hundred years.”

“Maybe it has been.” She smiled excitedly. “Maybe there’s a ghost!” He began to make ghostly noises then, and pretended to lunge at her as they went back to the road, and headed up the hill to what looked like a castle in a fairy story, or a dream. It was clearly not as old as Whitfield was, or as Belinda and George’s castle where they had met, but William estimated that this one was easily two hundred and fifty or three hundred years old, and as they approached it, they saw that the architecture was very fine. There had obviously been a park, and gardens, and perhaps even a maze, most of which was overgrown now, and the entrance to the house was truly regal as they stood before it. William tried the windows and the doors, but they were all locked. But a look into the shuttered rooms, through rotting slats, showed lovely floors, delicately carved moldings, and high ceilings. It was hard to see more, but it was clearly an incredible place. Being there was like taking a huge step back in time, and reaching out to the time of Louis XIV or XV or XVI. One expected a carriage full of men in wigs with satin breeches to come around the corner at full tilt at any moment, and to ask them why they were there.

“Whose do you suppose it was?” she asked, greatly intrigued by the surroundings.

“The locals ought to know. It can’t be much of a secret. It’s an enormous place.”

“Do you suppose anyone still owns it?” It looked as though it had been abandoned years ago, but someone had to own it.

“Someone must But obviously not anyone who wants it, or can afford to keep it up.” It was in a terrible state, even the marble front steps were badly broken. It all looked as though it had been deserted for decades.

But Sarah’s eyes had lit up as she looked around her. “Wouldn’t you love to take a place like this, tear it apart, and put it back together again, the way it once was … you know, restore it perfectly to everything it used to be.” Her eyes danced just thinking of it, and he rolled his eyes in feigned horror and exhaustion.

“Do you have any idea how much work that would be? Can you even imagine it … not to mention the cost. It would take an army of workers just to bring this place around, and the entire Bank of England.”

“But think of how beautiful it would be in the end. It really would be worth it.”

“To whom?” He laughed, looking at her in amusement. He had never seen her so excited about anything since they’d met. “How can you get so worked up over a place like this? It’s an absolute disaster.” But the truth was, it excited him too. But the enormity of the work that needed to be done was more than a little daunting. “Well ask about it when we get back to the road again. I’m sure they’ll tell us ten people were murdered here, and it’s a terrible place.” He teased her about it all the way back to the car, but she didn’t want to hear it. She thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and if she could have, she would have bought it then and there, she said, and William readily believed she would have.

As it turned out, they met an old farmer just near the main road, and William asked him in French about the crumbling château they had just seen, and he had a great deal to tell them. Sarah struggled to understand as much as she could, and she got most of it. But afterwards, William filled her in on the rest of the details. The place they had seen was called Le Château de la Meuze, and it had been deserted for some eighty years, since the late 1850s. It had been inhabited before that by the same family for more than two hundred years, but the last of them had died out, having no children. It was passed on through generations of cousins and distant relatives after that, and the old man was no longer sure who owned it. He said there had still been people there when he was a boy, an old woman who couldn’t take care of the place, La Comtesse de la Meuze, who was a cousin of the French kings. But she died when he was a child, and the place had been shuttered up ever since then.

“How sad. Why hasn’t anyone ever tried to fix it up, I wonder.”

“It would take too much money probably. The French have had some hard times. And places like this aren’t easy to run once you restore them.” He knew only too well how much money and attention it took to run Whitfield, and this would be far more costly.

“I think it’s a shame.” She looked sad as she thought of the old house, thinking of what it might have been, or had been once. She would have loved to roll up her sleeves and help William restore it.

They got back in the car and he looked at her curiously. “Are you serious, Sarah? Do you really love this place? Would you really like doing something like this?”

“I’d love it.” Her eyes lit up.

“It’s a hell of a lot of work. And it doesn’t really work unless you do some of it yourself. You have to hammer and bang and work and sweat along with the men who help you do it. You know, I saw Belinda and George restore their place, and you have no idea how much work that was.” But he also knew how much they loved it, and how dear to them it had become in the process.

“Yes, but that place is much more complicated than this, and it’s a lot older,” Sarah explained, wishing she could wave a magic wand and take possession of the Château de le Meuze.

“This wouldn’t be easy either,” William said intelligently. “Absolutely everything needs to be restored, even the caretaker’s cottage and the barns and stables.”

“I don’t care,” she said stubbornly. “I’d love to do something like this”—she looked up at him—“if you’d help me.”

“I thought I was beyond taking on a project like this. It’s taken me fifteen years to get Whitfield running right, but I don’t know, you make it sound very exciting.” He smiled at her, feeling lucky and happy again, as he had since they’d met.

“It could be so wonderful….” Her eyes glowed at him, and he smiled. He was putty in her hands, and he would have done almost anything she wanted.

“But in France? What about England?” She tried to be polite about it, but the truth was that she had fallen in love with the place, but she didn’t want to be pushy with him. Perhaps it was far too expensive, or maybe just too much work.

“I’d love to live here. But maybe we could find something like it in England.” But there didn’t seem to be much point. He already had Whitfield, and thanks to him, it was in excellent repair. But here it was different. It could have been someplace of their own that they could put back together with their own hands, something they could create and rebuild side by side. She had never been as excited about anything in her whole life, and she knew it was really crazy. The last thing they needed was a ramshackle château in France. She tried to forget about it as they drove away, but for the rest of the trip, all she could think of was the lonely château she had come to love. All it needed, she thought, was people to love it. It almost seemed to have a soul of its own, like a lost child, or a very sad old man. But whatever it was, it was not destined to be hers, she knew, and she never mentioned it again once they went back to Paris. She didn’t want him to feel she was pressing him, and she knew how impossible her fascination with it was.

It was Christmas week by then, and Paris looked beautiful. They went to dinner once at the Windsors’, at their house on the Boulevard Suchet, which had been decorated by Boudin. And the rest of the time they spent alone, enjoying their first Christmas. William called his mother several times to make sure that she wasn’t lonely. But she was constantly out at neighboring estates, dining with relatives, and on Christmas Eve she was at Sandringham with the royal family for their traditional Christmas dinner. Bertie had sent a car, two footmen, and a lady-in-waiting especially for her.

Sarah called her parents in New York when she knew Peter and Jane would be there on Christmas Eve, and for a moment, she felt a little homesick. But William was so good to her, and she was so happy with him. On Christmas Day he gave her an extraordinary emerald-cut sapphire ring from Van Cleef, set with diamonds around it, and a beautiful bracelet from Cartier, made of diamonds and cabochon emeralds and sapphires and rubies, all in a flower design. She had seen one like it on the arm of the Duchess of Windsor and admired it. It was a very unusual piece, and when William gave it to her she was stunned.

“Darling, how you spoil me!” She was in awe of everything he’d given her, and there were bags and scarves, and books he knew she’d like, from vendors along the Seine, and little trinkets that made her laugh, like a doll that was just like one she’d told him she’d had as a little girl. He knew her so well, and he was so incredibly generous and thoughtful.

She gave him a brilliant blue enamel and gold cigarette case by Carl Fabergé, with an inscription from the Czarina Alexandra to the Czar in 1916, and some wonderful riding gear from Hermès that he had admired, and a very stylish new watch from Cartier. And on the back of it she had engraved, “First Christmas, First Love, with all my heart, Sarah.” He was so touched when he read it, there were tears in his eyes, and then he took her back to bed, and made love to her again. They spent most of Christmas Day in bed, enchanted that they hadn’t gone back to London for all the pomp and ceremony and endless traditions.

And when they woke up again late that afternoon, he smiled down at her as she slowly opened her eyes. He kissed her neck, and told her again how much he loved her. “I have something else for you,” he confessed. But he wasn’t sure if she would hate it or love it. It was the craziest thing he had ever done, the maddest moment in his life, and yet he had a feeling that she might truly love it. And if she did, it was worth all the trouble it had cost. He took a small box out of a drawer. It was wrapped in gold paper, and tied with a thin gold ribbon.

“What is it?” She looked at him with the curiosity of a child, while he quaked inside.

“Open it.”

She did, slowly, carefully, wondering if it was a piece of jewelry. It was small enough to be. But when she took the paper off, there was another smaller box inside, and in it was a tiny wooden house made of a matchbox. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, and she looked at him with her eyes filled with questions. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Open it,” he said, sounding choked and terrified.

She opened the matchbox, and inside was a tiny slip of paper, which said only, “Le Château de la Meuze. Merry Christmas 1938. From William with all my love.”

Sarah looked at him in astonishment, as she read the words and suddenly understood what he’d done, and she gave a shout of amazement, unable to believe he’d done anything so wonderfully crazy. She had never, ever wanted anything as much.

“You bought it?” she asked wondrously, as she threw her arms around his neck, and tossed herself naked into his lap with excitement. “Did you?”

“It’s yours. I’m not sure if we’re crazy, or brilliant. If you don’t want it, we can just sell the land, and let it rot, or forget it.” It hadn’t cost him very much. It had just been a lot of trouble to put the deal together. But the amount he had paid for it had been pathetically small. It had cost him more to remodel his hunting lodge in England than to buy the Château de la Meuze with all its land and buildings.

She was so excited, she was beside herself, and he was thrilled that she was so pleased with his present. It had been more complicated than he thought. There were four heirs, two of whom were in France, one of whom was in New York, and the other was in the wilds of England. But his solicitors had helped him with all that. And Sarah’s father had contacted the woman in New York through the bank. They were distant cousins of the countess who had died eighty years before, just as the farmer had said. In fact, the people he had bought the château from were several generations removed from her, but no one had ever known what to do with the property or how to divide it, so they had abandoned it to its fate, until Sarah found it and fell in love with it.

And then she looked worriedly at William “Did it cost you a fortune?” She would have felt terribly guilty if it had, even though in her heart of hearts, she thought it was worth it. But the truth was that he had bought it for nothing at all. All four heirs were vastly relieved to be free of it, and none of them had been particularly greedy.

“The fortune will come when we try to restore it.”

“I promise you, I’ll do all the work myself … everything! When can we come back and start?” She was jumping up and down on him like a child as he groaned with mixed delight and anguish.

“We have to go back to England first, and I have to get a few things settled there. I don’t know … February perhaps … March?”

“Can’t we come sooner?” She looked like a happy little girl on Christmas morning as he smiled.

“We’ll try….” He was immensely pleased that she really liked it. He was excited about it now, too, and doing the work with her might actually be fun, if it didn’t kill them both “I’m happy that you like it. I had a bad moment or two, thinking that you had forgotten all about it, and didn’t really want it. And I promise you, your father thinks I’m quite mad. I’ll have to show you some of the cables sometime. He said this sounded almost as bad as that farm you tried to buy on Long Island, and it’s now completely obvious to him that we’re both mad and obviously well suited.” She giggled with glee, as she thought of the house again, and then she looked at William with a mischievous look of her own, which he was quick to notice.

“I have something for you too … I think … I didn’t want to say anything until we got back to England, and I was sure … but I think it’s possible … we might be having a baby …” She looked sheepish and pleased all at the same time, and he looked at her in wonder and amazement.

“So soon? Sarah, are you serious?” He couldn’t believe it.

“I think I am. It must have happened on our wedding night. I’ll be sure in a few more weeks.” But she had already recognized the early signs. This time she had recognized them herself.

“Sarah, my darling, you are truly amazing!” In one night they had acquired a family and a château in France, except the child had barely been conceived, and the château had been falling to rack and ruin for the better part of a century, but nevertheless they were both pleased.

They stayed in Paris, walking the Seine, and making love, and having quiet dinners in little bistros until just after the new year, and then they returned to London to be the Duke and Duchess of Whitfield.

Chapter 11

ILLIAM insisted that Sarah go to his doctor on Harley Street, the moment they returned to London. And he confirmed what she had guessed weeks before. By then she was five weeks pregnant, and he told her that the child would be born in late August or early September. And he urged her to be cautious for the first few months because of the miscarriage she’d had. But he found her in excellent health, and congratulated William on his heir, when he came to fetch her. William was clearly very pleased with himself, and with her, and they told his mother when they went to Whitfield that weekend.

“My dear children, that is marvelous!” she raved, acting as though they had accomplished something no one else had since Mary with Jesus. “I might remind you that it took you thirty days what it took your father and me thirty years to accomplish. You are to be congratulated on your speed, and your good fortune! What clever children you are!” She toasted them and they laughed. But she was enormously pleased for them, and she told Sarah again that having William had been the happiest moment in her life, and had remained thus in all the years since then. But as the doctor had done, she urged her not to be foolish and overdo, lest it hurt the baby or herself.

“Really, I’m fine.” She felt surprisingly well, and the doctor had said they could make love, “reasonably,” he had suggested they not hang off the chandelier or try to set any Olympic records, which Sarah had passed on to William. But he was desperately afraid that making love at all would hurt her or the baby. “I promise you, it won’t do anything. He said so.”

“How does he know?”

“He’s a doctor,” she reassured him.

“Maybe he’s no good. Maybe we should see someone else.”

“William, he was your mother’s doctor before you were born.”

“Precisely. He’s too old. We’ll see someone younger.”

He actually went so far as to find a specialist for her, and just to humor him, she saw him, and he told her all the same things as kindly old Lord Allthorpe, who Sarah much preferred. And by then she was two months pregnant, and had had no problems.

“What I want to know is when are we going back to France,” she said after they’d been in London for a month. She was dying to get started on their new home.

“Are you serious?” William looked horrified. “You want to go now? Don’t you want to wait until after the baby?”

“Of course not. Why wait all these months when we could be working on it now? I’m not sick, for heaven’s sake, darling, I’m pregnant”

“I know. But what if something happens?” He looked frantic and wished she weren’t so determined. But even old Lord Allthorpe agreed that there was no real reason for her to stay at home, and as long as she didn’t wear herself out completely, or carry anything too heavy, he thought the project in France would be fine.

“Keeping busy will be the best thing for her,” he assured them, and then suggested they wait till March, so she would be fully three months pregnant before they left. It was the only compromise Sarah was willing to make. She would wait until March to go back to France, but not a moment longer. She was dying to get to work on the château.

William tried to drag out his projects at Whitfield as best he could, and his mother kept urging him to tell Sarah to take it easy.

“Mother, I try, but she doesn’t listen,” he finally said in a moment of exasperation.

“She’s just a child herself. She doesn’t realize one has to be careful. She wouldn’t want to lose this baby.” But Sarah had already learned that lesson the hard way long before. And she was more careful than William thought, taking naps, and getting off her feet, and resting when she was tired. She had no intention of losing this baby. Nor did she intend to sit around. And she pressed him until finally he was ready to go back to France, and couldn’t stall her any longer. By then it was mid-March, and she was threatening to leave without him.

They went to Paris on the royal yacht, when Lord Mountbatten was on his way to see the Duke of Windsor, and he agreed to take the young couple over as a favor. “Dickie,” as William and his contemporaries called him, was a very handsome man, and Sarah amused him during the entire crossing, telling him about the château and the work they were going to do there.

“William, old man, sounds like you have your work cut out for you.” But he thought it would be good for them too. It was obvious that they were very much in love, and very excited about their project.

William had had the concierge at the Ritz hire a car for them, and they had managed to find a small hotel two and a half hours outside Paris, not far from their crumbling château. They rented the top floor of the hotel, and planned to live there until they had made the château habitable again, which they both knew could be a long time.

“It might be years, you know,” William grumbled as they saw it again. And he spent the next two weeks lining up workmen. Eventually, he had hired a sizeable crew, and they began by prying off the boards and shutters to see what lay within. There were surprises everywhere as they worked, and some of them were happy ones, and some of them were not. The main living room was a splendid room, and eventually they found three salons, with beautiful boiseries, and fading gilt on some of the moldings; there were marble fireplaces and beautiful floors. But in some places the wood had been destroyed by mold and years of dampness, and animals who had ventured in through the boards and gnawed at the lovely moldings here and there.

There was a huge, handsome dining room, a series of smaller salons, still on the main floor, an extraordinary wood-panelled library, and a baronial hall worthy of any English castle, and a kitchen so antiquated it reminded Sarah of some of the museums she’d visited with her parents the year before. There were tools there that surely no one had used for two hundred years, and she collected them carefully with the intent to save them. And they carefully stored the two carriages they had found in the barn.

William ventured cautiously upstairs after their initial investigations on the main floor of the château. But he absolutely refused to let Sarah join him, for fear that the floors might cave in, but he found them all surprisingly solid, and eventually he let Sarah come up to see what he’d found. There were at least a dozen large sunny rooms, again with lovely boiseries, and beautifully shaped windows, and there was a handsome sitting room with a marble fireplace, which looked out over the main entrance and what had once been the park and the gardens of the château. But suddenly Sarah realized as she walked from room to room, that there were no bathrooms. Of course, she laughed to herself, there wouldn’t have been. They took baths in tubs in their dressing rooms, and they had chamber pots instead of toilets.

There was a lot of work to do, but it was clearly well worth doing. And even William looked excited now. He made drawings for the men, and drew up work schedules and spent every day from dawn to dusk giving directions, while Sarah worked beside him, sanding down old wood, refinishing floors, cleaning boiseries, repairing gilt, and polishing brass and bronze until it shone, and eventually she spent most of every day painting. And while they worked on the main house, William had assigned a crew of young boys to repair the caretaker’s cottage so that eventually they could move there from the hotel, and be right on the site of their enormous project.

The caretaker’s cottage was small. It had a tiny living room, a smaller bedroom beside it, and a large cozy kitchen, and upstairs there were two slightly larger sunny bedrooms. But it was certainly adequate for them, and possibly even a serving girl downstairs, if eventually Sarah felt she needed one. They had a bedroom for themselves, and even one for their baby when it arrived.

She could feel the baby moving inside her now, and each time she felt it, she smiled, convinced that it would be a boy and look just like William. She told him that from time to time, and he insisted that he didn’t care if it was a girl, they wanted more anyway. “And it’s not as though we’re supplying an heir to the throne,” he teased her, but there was still his title, and the matter of inheriting Whitfield and its lands.

But they both had more than Whitfield, or even their château, on their minds these days. In March, Hitler had raised his ugly head, and had “absorbed” Czechoslovakia, claiming that in effect, it no longer existed as a separate entity anymore. He had, in effect, swallowed ten million persons who were not Germans. And he had no sooner devoured them, than he turned his sights on Poland, and began threatening them about issues that had been a problem for some time, in Danzig, and elsewhere.

A week after all that, the Spanish Civil War came to an end, having taken well over a million lives, as the well-being of Spain lay in ruins.

But April was worse. Imitating his German friend, Mussolini took over Albania, and the British and French governments began to growl, and offered Greece and Romania their help if they felt it was needed. They had offered the same thing weeks before to Poland, promising this time to stand by if Hitler came any closer.

By May, Mussolini and Hitler had signed an alliance, each promising to follow the other into war, and similar discussions between France, England, and Russia stopped and started, and went nowhere. It was a dismal spring for world politics, and the Whitfields were deeply concerned, yet at the same time they were moving ahead with their enormous work at the Château de la Meuze, and Sarah was deeply engrossed in her baby. She was six months pregnant by then, and although he didn’t say so to her, William thought she was enormous. But they were both tall, and it was reasonable to think that their child might be large. He would feel it moving inside her at night as they lay in bed, and once in a while when he moved close to her, he’d feel the baby kick him.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” He was fascinated by it, by the life he felt inside her, her growing shape, and the baby that would soon come from the love they had shared. The miracle of it all still overwhelmed him. He still made love to her from time to time, but he was more and more afraid to hurt her, and she seemed less interested now. She was hard at work on the château, and by the time they fell into bed at night they were both exhausted. And in the morning the workmen arrived at six o’clock and began hammering and banging.

They were able to move into the caretaker’s house in late June, and give up their rooms at the hotel, which pleased them. They were living on their own turf now and the grounds had begun to look civilized. He had brought a fleet of gardeners from Paris to cut and chop and plant, and turn a jungle back into a garden. The park took more time, but by August there was hope for that, too, and by then it was amazing, the progress they had made with the whole house. William was beginning to think they would move in at the end of the month, just in time to have their baby. He was working particularly hard on their suite of rooms so that Sarah would be comfortable there, and they could go on working on the house after they moved in. It would take years for all the minute details to be finished, but they had already accomplished an astonishing amount of work in a remarkably short time.

In fact, George and Belinda had come by in July, and they had been vastly impressed by how much William and Sarah had done by then. Jane and Peter also came to visit, and it was all too short a visit for the sisters. Jane was crazy about William, and thrilled for Sarah about the baby. And she promised to come again after it was born, so she could see it, although she was expecting again, too, and it would be a while before she could come tack to Europe. Sarah’s parents had wanted to come, too, but her father hadn’t been feeling well, though Jane assured her it wasn’t serious. And they were frantically busy rebuilding Southampton. But her mother had every intention of coming to visit in the fall, after Sarah had the baby.

After Peter and Jane left, Sarah felt lonely for several days, and absorbed herself in the house again to boost her spirits. She worked frantically to finish her own room, and especially the lovely room next to it that she had set aside for the baby.

“How’s it coming in there?” William called out to her one afternoon, as he brought her a loaf of bread and some cheese and a steaming cup of coffee. He had been so kind to her family, just as he was to everyone, and to her. And more than ever, Sarah loved him deeply.

“I’m getting there,” she said proudly. She had been carefully gilding some boiserie, and it looked better than what they had seen at Versailles

“You’re good.” He admired her work with a gentle smile. “I’d hire you myself,” he said as he bent down to kiss her. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine.” Her back was killing her, but she wouldn’t have told him for anything in the world. She loved what she did there every day, and she wouldn’t be pregnant for much longer. Only for another three or four weeks, and they had found a small, clean hospital in Chaumont where she could have the baby. There was a very sensible doctor there, and she had gone to see him every few weeks. He thought everything was going well, although he warned her that she might have a very large baby.

“What does that mean?” she had asked, trying to sound casual. Lately, she had been getting a little nervous about the birth, but she hadn’t wanted to frighten William with her concerns, they seemed so silly.

“It could mean a cesarean,” the doctor confessed to her. “It can be disagreeable, but mother and child are sometimes safer that way if the baby is too large, and yours could be.”

“Would I be able to have more children, if I had one?” He hesitated and then shook his head, feeling he owed her the truth.

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Then I don’t want one.”

“Then walk a great deal, move around, get exercise, swim if there is a river near your house. It will all help you with the birth, Madame la Duchesse.” He always bowed politely when she left, and although she didn’t like his threat of a cesarean, she liked him. And she said nothing at all to William about the baby being large, or the possibility of a cesarean section at the birth. There was one thing she was sure of, and that was that she wanted more children. And she was going to do everything she could not to jeopardize that.

The baby was still a week or two away when Germany and Russia signed a pact of nonaggression, leaving only France and Britain as potential allies, since Hitler had already signed a pact with Mussolini, and Spain was virtually destroyed and could help no one.

“It’s getting serious, isn’t it?” Sarah asked him quietly one night. They had just moved into their room in the château, and with all the little details still to be done, she thought she had never seen anything as beautiful, which was exactly how William felt when he looked at Sarah.

“It’s not good. I should probably go back to England at some point, just to see what they think at Number Ten Downing.” But he hadn’t wanted to worry her with it. “Maybe we’ll both go back for a few days, after the baby comes.” They wanted to show it to his mother anyway, so Sarah made no objection to the plan.

“It’s hard to believe we’d go to war, England, I mean.” She was beginning to think of herself as one of them, even though she had kept her American citizenship when she married William, and he saw no particular reason for her to change it. All she wanted was for the world to settle down long enough for her to have her baby. She didn’t want to have to worry about a war, when she wanted to find a quiet home for their child. “You won’t leave if something happens, William, will you?” She looked at him in sudden panic, running all the possibilities over in her mind.

“I won’t leave before the baby comes. I promise you that.”

“But afterwards?” Her eyes were wide with terror.

“Only if there’s a war. Now stop worrying about all that. It’s not healthy for you right now. I’m not going anywhere, except to the hospital with you, so don’t be silly.” She had mild pains as she lay in their new room with him that night, but by morning they were gone and she felt better. It was silly to worry about war now, she was just nervous about the baby, she told herself the next morning when she got up.

But on September first, as she hammered on a cabinet upstairs, on the floor of small bedrooms above theirs, which would make wonderful children’s bedrooms one day, she heard someone shout something unintelligible below her, and then she heard running downstairs, and thought someone might be hurt, so she went all the way down to the main kitchen to help. But they were listening to the wireless there.

Germany had just attacked Poland, with ground troops and by air. William was standing there, listening to the broadcast, and with him every man in the place. Afterwards they all argued about whether or not France would attempt to rescue Poland. A few of them thought they should, many of them didn’t care. They had their own troubles at home, their families, their problems, some of them thought Hitler should be stopped before it was too late for all of them, and Sarah stood there, in terror, staring at William and the others.

“What does this mean?”

“Nothing good,” he said honestly. “We’ll have to wait and see.” They had just finished the roof on the house, the windows were sealed, the floors were done, the bathrooms had been put in, but the details remained to be attacked. Nonetheless, the lion’s share of the work had been done, her home was complete and safe from the elements and the world, in time for her to have her baby. But the world itself was no longer safe, and there was no easy way to change that. “I want you to forget about it right now,” he urged. He had noticed for the past two days that she had been sleeping fitfully, and he suspected that her time was coming closer. And he wanted her free of fear and concerns and worries when their baby came. It was a real possibility that Hitler wouldn’t stop with Poland. Sooner or later, Britain had to step forward and stop him. William knew that, but he didn’t say it to Sarah.

They ate a quiet dinner in the kitchen that night. As always, Sarah’s mind turned to serious things, but William tried to distract her. He wouldn’t let her talk about the news, he wanted her to think about something pleasant. He tried to keep her mind off world events by talking about the house, but it wasn’t easy.

“Tell me what you want to do with the dining room. Do you want to restore the original panelling, or use some of the boiseries we found in the stables?”

“I don’t know.” She looked vague as she tried to focus on his question. “What do you think?”

“I think the boiserie has a brighter look. The panelling in the library is enough.”

“I think so too.” She was playing with her food, and he could see she wasn’t hungry. He wondered if she was feeling ill, but he didn’t want to press her. She looked tired tonight, and worried. They all were.

“And what about the kitchen?” They had exposed all the original brick from four hundred years before, and William loved it. “I like it like this, but maybe you want something a little more polished.”

“I don’t really care.” She looked at him desolately suddenly. “I just feel sick every time I think of those poor people in Poland.”

“You can’t think about that now, Sarah,” he said gently.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not good for you or the baby,” he said firmly, but she started to cry as she left the table and began to pace the kitchen. Everything seemed to upset her more, now that she was so close to having their baby.

“What about the women in Poland who are as pregnant as I am? They can’t just change the subject.”

“It’s a horrifying thought,” he admitted to her, “but right now, right this minute, we can’t change that.”

“Why not, dammit? Why? Why is that maniac doing that to them?” she ranted, and then sat down again, breathless and obviously in pain.

“Sarah, stop it. Don’t upset yourself.” He made her go upstairs and insisted that she lie down on the bed, but she was still crying when she did. “You can’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“Those aren’t my shoulders, and that’s not the world, it’s your son.” She smiled through her tears, thinking again how much she loved William. He was so unfailingly good to her, so tireless, he had been so incredible restoring the château, he had worked endlessly only because she loved it. Except that he had come to love it, too, by then, and knowing that touched her as well.

“Do you suppose this little monster is ever going to come out?” she asked, sounding tired as he rubbed her back. He still had to go downstairs and put away the dinner things, but he didn’t want to leave her until she’d relaxed, and it was obvious to him that she hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t for a while.

“I think he will eventually. He’s right on schedule for the moment. What did Lord Allthorpe say? September first? That’s today, so he’s only late as of tomorrow.”

“He’s so big.” She was worried about being able to get the baby out. In the past few weeks she had grown even more enormous. And she still remembered what the local doctor had said about the baby being large.

“He’ll come out. When he’s ready.” William bent over her and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “You just rest for a little while. I’ll bring you a cup of tea.” But when he returned with what the French called an “infusion” of mint, she was sound asleep, on their bed, in her clothes, and he didn’t disturb her. She slept beside him that way until morning, and she was startled when she woke up, she had a sharp pain, but she had had them before, and they always came and went and eventually subsided. Actually, she felt stronger than she had in a long time, and there was a long list of things she wanted to finish in the nursery before she had the baby. She hammered and banged there all day, forgetting her worries, and she refused even to come down for lunch when he called her. William had to bring her lunch upstairs, and he scolded her for working too hard, as she turned to face him and laughed. She looked better and happier than she had in weeks, and he smiled, feeling relieved.

“Well, at least we know I’m not going to lose the baby.” She patted her huge belly, and the baby kicked her soundly, as she took a bite of baguette, and another of apple, and went back to work. Even the baby’s clothes and diapers were waiting in the drawers. By the end of the day, she had done everything she had set out to do, and the room looked lovely. She had done everything in white lace, with white satin ribbons. There was an antique bassinet, a beautiful little armoire, a commode that had been in the house, which she had bleached and sanded herself, and the floors were a pale honey color, and there was a tiny Aubusson on the floor. The room was filled with love and warmth, and the only thing missing was the baby.

She went downstairs to the kitchen at dinnertime, and put together some pasta and cold chicken and a salad for them both. She warmed some soup, and bread, and then she called upstairs for William. She poured him a glass of wine, but said she didn’t want any. She couldn’t drink anymore, it gave her terrible heartburn.

“You did a good job.” He had just been upstairs to see, and he was impressed by how much energy she had, she hadn’t been that lively in weeks, and after dinner she suggested they go for a walk in the garden.

“Don’t you think you should rest?” He looked faintly worried, she was overdoing it. No matter that she was twenty-three years old, she was about to go through an ordeal that he had always heard wasn’t easy, and he wanted her to rest.

“What for? The baby may not come for weeks. I’m beginning to feel like I could go on like this forever.”

“You certainly act like it. Are you all right?” He eyed her intently, but she looked well. Her eyes were sparkling and clear, her cheeks pink, and she was teasing him as she laughed.

“I’m fine, William, I promise.” Her conversation tonight was about her parents, and Jane, and his mother, and the house on Long Island. Her parents had done extensive work there, too, and her father said everything would be back to normal again by the following summer. That was a long time, but there had been a lot of damage from the storm. They still missed Charles, and there was a new caretaker now. A Japanese man, and his wife.

She seemed very nostalgic as they walked along through the gardens. Tiny bushes were beginning to grow here and there, and the garden seemed filled with hope and promise, just as she did.

They went back to the house finally, and she seemed content to lie down and rest. She read a book for a while, and then she got up and stretched and went to look out the window at the moonlight. Their new home was beautiful, and she loved everything about it. It was the dream of her life.

“Thank you for all this,” she said gently from where she stood, and he looked at her from the bed, touched by how sweet she looked. She looked so young and so enormous. And then as she started back toward the bed, she looked around, at the floor, and then up at the ceiling above. “Damn, we’ve got a terrible leak from someplace, one of the pipes must have burst.” She couldn’t see it above her or on the wall, but the entire floor was covered with a pool of water.

He stood up with a frown, and looked at the ceiling as she had. “I don’t see anything. Are you sure?” But she pointed to the floor, and he looked around her, and then at her back again. He had understood before she did. “I think you’re the one with the leaky pipes, my love,” he said gently, not sure what he should do to help her, as he smiled.

“I beg your pardon!” She looked highly insulted as he brought out a pile of towels from the bathroom they had fashioned from the room next to their own, and suddenly understanding began to dawn in her eyes. It had never even occurred to her. Her water had broken.

“Do you think it’s that?” She looked around, as he soaked it up with the towels, and she realized then that her nightgown was damp. He was right. It was her water.

“I’ll call the doctor,” he said as he stood up.

“I don’t think we have to. He said it could be an entire day before anything happens after that.”

“I’d still feel better if we called him.” But he felt a great deal worse after he called the hospital in Chaumont. Le Professeur Vinocour, as they referred to doctors in France, had left with three colleagues for Warsaw. They were going to offer their services to help there, and do whatever they could, and in addition there had been a terrible fire in the next village that night. All the nurses were helping there, and there were literally no doctors. They were desperately shorthanded and the last thing they needed to concern themselves with was an ordinary accouchement, even for Madame la Duchesse. For once, absolutely no one was impressed with his title. “A baby is no great thing to deliver,” they told him. They suggested he call one of the women from a neighboring farm, or someone at the hotel, but they couldn’t help him. He wasn’t even sure what to say to Sarah as he walked back upstairs, feeling sick, knowing that he should have taken her back to London, or at the very least Paris. And now it was too late. He had delivered puppies once, but he certainly had no idea how to deliver a baby, and neither did Sarah. She was even more ignorant than he was, except for her miscarriage, and they had given her a general anesthetic for that. He didn’t even have anything to help her with the pain, or to use to help the baby, if there was a problem. And suddenly, he remembered what she had said, that sometimes there was a lapse of an entire day before the pains began. He would drive her to Paris. They were only two and a half hours away, it was the perfect solution, he decided as he ran up the stairs to their bedroom. And then he saw her face with dismay, when he walked back into the room. The contractions had started out of nowhere with a vengeance.

“Sarah.” He ran to the bed, where she seemed to be struggling for air, as she wrestled with the pain that overwhelmed her. “The doctor isn’t there. Do you feel strong enough for me to drive you to Paris?” But she looked at him with horror at the suggestion.

“I can’t… I don’t know what happened … I can’t move … they just keep coming … and they’re so awful …”

“I’ll be right back.” He patted her arm and dashed back downstairs, deciding to take the woman’s advice. He called the hotel and asked if anyone could help him there, but the girl who answered was the owner’s daughter, and she was only seventeen and very shy, and he knew she would be of no use. She said everyone else had gone to the fire, including her parents.

“All right, if someone comes back, anyone, any woman who thinks she could help, send her up to the château. My wife is having a baby.” He hung up on her then and ran back upstairs to Sarah, who was lying on their bed, bathed in sweat, rasping as she breathed, and moaning by the time he reached her.

“It’s all right, darling. We’re going to do this together.” He went to wash his hands and came back with another huge stack of towels, and surrounded her with them. He used a cool cloth on her head, and she started to thank him, but the pain was too great for her to speak. For no reason, he glanced at his watch, it was almost midnight. “Well, we’re going to have a baby tonight.” He tried to sound cheerful as he held her hand and she thrashed with the pain while he watched her. He had no idea what to do to help, and she begged him to do something each time one of the vicious pains ripped through her. “Try to go with it. Try to think of it as something that will bring you our baby.”

“It’s too awful … William … William … Make it stop … Do something! …” she wailed, and he sat helplessly beside her, wanting to help, but not knowing how. He wasn’t sure anyone could, and she was overwhelmed by how awful the pain was. The miscarriage had been terrible, but this was infinitely worse. This was worse than her worst fears of what the birth would be like. “Oh, God … oh, William … oh … I feel it coming!” He was relieved that it was so soon, if it was going to be ghastly for such a short time, then she would survive it. He prayed that it would be quick now.

“May I look?” he asked hesitantly, and she nodded and moved her legs further apart as though to make room for the baby, and when he looked he could see the head, but just a bit of it, covered with blood and fair hair. The space he could see was about two inches across, and it seemed to him that it would be only moments before the baby was born, as he called to her in his excitement. “I can see it, darling, it’s coming. Push it out. Go ahead … push out our baby …” He kept encouraging her, and he could see the result of her pushing briefly. For an instant, the baby seemed to come closer, and then it would move back. It was a slow dance, and for a long time, there was no progress. And then the portion of the baby’s head that he could see seemed to grow a fraction larger at last. He braced her legs against his chest so she could push harder, but the baby wouldn’t move, and Sarah looked desperate as she screamed with each pain, remembering what the doctor had said, that the baby might be too big to be born that way.

“Sarah, can you push any harder?” he begged her. The baby seemed to be stuck. And they had been at it for hours. It was after four o’clock, and she had been trying to push it out since just after midnight. There was no respite between the pains, she got only a few seconds each time to catch her breath and push again, and he could see that she was panicking and losing control. He gripped her legs again and spoke to her firmly. “Push again now … now … come on … that’s it … more! Sarah! Push harder!” He was shouting at her, and he was sorry for it, but there was no other way. The baby wasn’t even far enough out for him to try to maneuver it or pull it. And as he shouted at her, he could see the head come a little farther forward again. They were getting there, but it was after six o’clock, and the sun was coming up, and they weren’t there yet.

She kept pushing and trying, and by eight o’clock she was losing a lot of blood. She looked deathly pale, and the baby hadn’t moved in hours, and then he heard a stirring downstairs and he called out to anyone who might hear him. Sarah was barely conscious and her pushing had grown weaker. She just couldn’t anymore. He heard rapid footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later, he saw Emanuelle, the young girl from the hotel, with wide eyes, in a blue gingham dress and an apron.

“I came to see if I could help Madame la Duchesse with the baby.” But only William suspected that Madame la Duchesse was dying and there would be no baby. She was hemorrhaging, though not uncontrollably, but the baby wasn’t moving, and she no longer had the strength to push when the pains came. She just lay there and moaned between screams, and if they didn’t do something soon, he was going to lose them both. By then, she had been in hard labor for nine hours and gotten nowhere.

“Come quickly and help me,” he said to the girl urgently, and she stepped forward and came to the bedside without hesitation. “Have you ever delivered a baby?” He spoke to her without taking his eyes off Sarah. She was a gray color now, and her lips were slightly blue. Her eyes were rolling back in her head, and he was still talking to her and making her hear him. “Sarah, listen to me, you have to push, you have to, as hard as you can. Listen to me, Sarah. Push! Now!” He had learned to feel for the contractions by keeping a hand on her stomach. And then he spoke to the girl from the hotel again. “Do you know what to do?”

“No,” she said honestly. “I have only seen animals,” she said with a heavy French accent, but she spoke good English. “I think we must push it out for her now, or … or …” She didn’t want to tell him his wife might die, but they both knew it.

“I know. I want you to push down as hard as you can, to push the baby toward me. When I tell you to …” He was feeling for the next pain and it was already coming, as he gave a sign to the girl, and began shouting at Sarah again, and this time the baby moved more than it had in hours. Emanuelle was pushing down as hard as she could, and she was afraid that she might kill the duchess herself, but she knew they had no choice. She just kept pushing and pushing and pushing, trying to squeeze the baby out, and bring it into life, before they lost both mother and child.

“Is it coming?” she asked, and she saw Sarah open her eyes as he nodded. She seemed to be aware of them, but only for an instant, and then she sank back into her sea of pain.

“Come on, darling. Push again. Try to help us this time,” he said quietly, fighting back his own tears as she cried. Emanuelle bore down on her with her full weight and all the force she could exert this time, as William watched and prayed, and slowly … slowly… the head pushed slowly out of Sarah, and before they had freed the baby, it gave a long wail. Sarah stirred when she heard it, and looked around as though she didn’t understand what had happened.

“What’s that?” she asked groggily, staring at William.

“That’s our baby.” There were tears running down his cheeks, and Sarah began to panic as the pains started again, and she had to push some more. They still had to free the shoulders, but now William was helping, trying to get them free, as mother and child cried, and William felt his sweat mix with tears. Sarah just couldn’t help them. She was too weak, and the baby was much too large. The doctor in Chaumont had been right. She should never have tried to give birth to this child, but it was too late now. It was half born, and they had to free it from its mother at last. “Sarah! Push again!” William shouted at her this time, and Emanuelle continued to press on her abdomen until it looked like she would go right through her. But the baby inched forward again, and William got one arm out, but he couldn’t get the other. And then suddenly he remembered the puppies he had delivered so long ago. There had been one like that, and it had been terrible for the mother, but he had saved them both. The pup had been unusually large, as he could see his own child was.

And this time when the pains ripped through Sarah and she screamed, William reached inside her and gently tried to turn the baby to a different angle, while feeling gently around the shoulder, and Sarah jumped in anguish and fought him as hard as she could. “Hold her down!” he told the girl. “Don’t let her move!” Or she might kill the child. But Emanuelle held her firmly, while William forced her legs down and tried to free the baby, and then suddenly with an odd little sound, the other arm popped out, the shoulders were free, and a moment later, William delivered the rest of him. He was a boy, and he was beautiful, and absolutely enormous.

William held him aloft in the morning sun, to look at him in all his beauty, and now he knew what his mother meant when she spoke of a miracle, for truly this was one.

He carefully cut the cord, and handed the baby to the girl, while he tenderly bathed Sarah’s face with damp cloths, and tried to stop the bleeding with towels.

But this time Emanuelle knew what to do. She gently set the baby down in a little nest of blankets on the floor and came to show William. “We must press down very hard on her stomach … like so … so she will stop bleeding. I have heard my mother say this about women who have had many children.” And with that she pressed down on Sarah’s lower abdomen even harder than she had before, and kneaded it like bread as Sarah screamed weakly and begged them to stop, but he saw that the girl was right, the bleeding slowed and eventually all but stopped, except for what seemed normal to both of them.

It was noon by then, and William couldn’t believe that it had taken twelve hours to deliver their son. Twelve hours that Sarah and the baby had barely survived. She was still deathly pale, but her lips were no longer blue, and he brought the baby to her and held the baby for her so she could see him. She smiled, but she was too weak to hold him herself, and she looked up at William gratefully, instinctively knowing that he had saved them. “Thank you,” she whispered as tears rolled down her cheeks and he kissed her. He gave the baby back to Emanuelle then, and she took him downstairs to wash him and then bring him back to his mother later on. William bathed Sarah and changed the bed, and wrapped her in clean blankets and towels. She was too weak to move herself, or even to speak to him, but she watched him gratefully, and finally lay back against the pillows and drifted off to sleep. It was the worst thing William had ever seen, and at the same time the most beautiful, and he felt overwhelmed by his own emotions, as he went downstairs to make her a cup of tea and lace it with brandy. As he made it, he couldn’t resist taking a quick swallow himself.

“He’s a beautiful boy,” Emanuelle said to him as she watched him. “And he weighs five kilos. More than ten pounds!” she announced in amazement, which explained all of Sarah’s agony.

William smiled in amazement, and tried to express his thanks to the girl. She had been very brave, and incredibly helpful and he knew that without her, he could never have saved the baby or Sarah.

“Thank you.” He looked at her gratefully. “I couldn’t have saved them without you.” She smiled, and they went back upstairs to see Sarah. She took a sip of the tea, and smiled again when she saw the baby. She was still in pain, and very weak, but she knew the brandy would help her. And even in her weakened state, she was thrilled about the baby.

William told her he weighed ten pounds, and he wanted to apologize to her for what he had put her through, but he didn’t have the chance to say anything. She fell sound asleep before she had turned her head on the pillow. And she slept that way for hours, as William sat quietly in a chair at her bedside and watched her. But when she woke again at dusk, she looked more like herself, and asked him to help her to the bathroom. He did and then brought her back to bed, and marvelled at the endurance of her sex.

“I was so worried about you,” he confessed as she lay in their bed again. “I had no idea the baby was so large. Ten pounds is enormous.”

“The doctor thought he might be,” she said, but she didn’t tell him that she hadn’t wanted a cesarean, for fear that they couldn’t have had any other children. She knew that if she had told William there was even a question of it, he would have forced her to go back to London. But she was glad she hadn’t, she was glad she had been brave, even if she had been a little foolish. There would be more babies now … and her beautiful son … They were going to name him Phillip Edward, after William’s grandfather and her father. And she had never seen anyone as beautiful, she thought, as she held her son for the first time.

Emanuelle finally left them at dusk to go back to the hotel, and when he walked her downstairs, he saw some of the men who worked for them waving at him from the distance. He waved back with a smile, thinking they were congratulating him on the arrival of the baby, but as he looked at them, he realized that they were calling something to him, something he didn’t understand at first, and then he heard a word that made his blood run cold and he began to run toward them.

“C’est la guerre, Monsieur le Duc … C’est la guerre …” It was war, they were telling him. Britain and France had declared war on Germany that afternoon…. His baby had just arrived, and his wife had almost died … and now he would have to leave them. He stood listening to them for a long moment, knowing he would have to go back to England as soon as he could. If he was able to, he’d have to send a message to England now. And what would he tell Sarah? Nothing yet. She was too weak to hear it. But she’d have to know soon enough. He couldn’t stay much longer with them.

And as he hurried back to their room, to check on her and the sleeping child, there were tears rolling down his cheeks. It was so unfair … why now? She looked at him as though she knew, as though she sensed something.

“What was all that noise outside?” she asked weakly.

“Some of the men came to congratulate you for bringing such a handsome boy into the world.”

“That’s sweet.” She smiled sleepily, and drifted back to sleep again, as he lay beside her and watched her, fearing what would happen.

Chapter 12

HE next morning dawned sunny and warm, and the baby woke them just after dawn with muffled cries for his mother. William went to bring him to her, and put him to her breast as he watched them. The hearty boy seemed to know exactly what to do, as Sarah smiled at him weakly. She could still hardly move, but she was better than she’d been the night before, and then suddenly she remembered the noise outside, and the look on William’s face, and she knew something had happened, but William still hadn’t told her what it was yet.

“What was all that last night?” she asked softly, as the baby nursed hungrily from his mother, and William wondered if it was still too soon to tell her the truth. And yet, he knew he had to. He had called the Duke of Windsor in Paris the night before, and they had both agreed, they would have to go back to England very quickly. Wallis was going with him, of course, but William knew there was no way he could move Sarah so soon. Certainly not now, and perhaps not for weeks, or even months. It all depended on how quickly she would recover, and that was impossible for anyone to predict now. And in the meantime, William knew he had to go back to London and report to the War Office. She would be safe in France, but he hated to leave her alone. And as she watched him, Sarah saw all his anguish and worries. For William, it had been an agonizing two days. “What’s wrong?” Sarah asked as she reached out to touch him.

“We’re at war,” he said sadly, no longer able to hide it from her, and praying she was strong enough to take the news, and all its implications for them. “England and France against Germany. It happened yesterday, while you were busy bringing Phillip into the world.” It had been quite a task, they both knew, and understandably they’d all been distracted. But now there was no running away from the truth.

Tears filled her eyes the moment she heard it, as she looked at William in fear. “What does that mean for you? Will you have to go soon?”

“I have to.” He nodded mournfully, devastated to leave her now, but there was clearly no choice. “I’ll try to send a cable today and tell them that I’ll come in a few days. I don’t want to leave until you’re a bit stronger.” He gently touched her hand, remembering all that she’d been through. Watching them seemed like a double miracle to him now, and he hated to have to leave them. “I’ll ask Emanuelle to stay here with you when I go. She’s a good girl.” She had certainly proved that, and more, the day before, while he had delivered the baby.

Emanuelle came back that morning, just after nine, looking spotlessly clean in another blue dress and a freshly starched apron. Her dark red hair was pulled neatly back in a thick braid that fell down her back and was tied with a blue ribbon. She was seventeen, and her younger brother was twelve. They had lived all their lives in La Marolle. Her parents were simple and hardworking, and intelligent, as were their children.

And when she was there, William went to the post office to send a cable to the War Office. But just after he got back to the château, Emanuelle’s brother, Henri, arrived from the hotel. “Your phone is out of order, Monsieur le Duc,” he announced. And the Duke of Windsor had called and left a message at the hotel to tell him that the H.M.S. Kelly, would come to pick them up the next morning in Le Havre, and he had to come to Paris at once.

The boy was still breathless as he told William what he had said, and William thanked him and gave him ten francs, and then he went back upstairs to tell Sarah.

“I just got a message from David,” he started vaguely, walking slowly around the room, trying to see everything so he could take the memories with him. “He … uh … Bertie’s sending a boat for us tomorrow.”

“Here?” She looked confused. She had been dozing while he went out to send the cable.

“Hardly.” He smiled as he sat down beside her on the bed. They were a hundred and fifty miles from the shore, here in La Marolle. “To Le Havre. He wants me to meet him in Paris by eight o’clock tomorrow morning. I suppose Wallis will be going with us.” And then he looked at his wife again, with a worried frown. “I don’t suppose you feel strong enough to come with us.” He knew she didn’t, but at least he had to ask her, for his own peace of mind, although he knew that she could start hemorrhaging again if they moved her too soon. And she had already lost so much blood when she had the baby. She was still very pale, and very weak. It would be a month before she was strong enough to go anywhere, let alone drive to Paris or take a boat trip to England. She shook her head in answer to his question. “I don’t like leaving you here.”

“France is our ally. No harm will come to us here.” She smiled gently at him. She didn’t want him to leave, but she didn’t mind staying. This was their home now. “We’ll be fine. Will you be able to come back soon?”

“I don’t know. I’ll get a message to you as soon as I can. I have to report to the War Office in London, and then find out what they want to do with me. I’ll try to get back here as quickly as I can. And when you feel well enough, you should come home,” he said almost sternly.

“This is home,” she whispered as she looked at him. “I don’t want to leave. Phillip and I will be safe here.”

“I know. But I’d feel better about it if you were at Whitfield.” The prospect of that depressed her. She was fond of his mother, and it was a pretty place, but the Château de la Meuze had become home to them, and they had worked so hard to make it what they wanted that now she didn’t want to leave it. There was still a lot of work to do, but she could do some of it herself when she felt strong again, while they waited for him to come from England. “We’ll see,” he said vaguely, and went to pack a bag to take with him the next morning.

Neither of them slept that night, and even the baby cried more than he had the day before. Her milk wasn’t plentiful enough yet for the enormous child, and she was nervous and worried. She saw William get up at five, when he thought she was finally asleep, and she spoke softly in the darkened room as she watched him.

“I don’t want you to go,” she said sadly, and he came to stand beside her and touched her hand and her face, wishing he didn’t have to.

“I don’t want to go either. Hopefully, it’ll all be over soon, and we can get on with our life again.” She nodded, hoping he was right, and trying not to think of the poor people in Poland.

He was shaved and dressed half an hour later, and stood beside the bed again, and this time she stood up beside him. Her head reeled for a moment as she did, and he put a strong arm around her. “I don’t want you to come downstairs, you might hurt yourself trying to get back up.” She was still very wobbly and she might faint and hit her head, but she was too weak to even try and she knew it.

“I love you… Please take care of yourself … William … be careful … I love you….” There were tears in her eyes and in his, too, as he smiled and helped her back into bed.

“I promise … you be careful too … and take good care of Lord Phillip.”

She smiled at her son. He was such a beautiful little boy. He had big blue eyes and blond curls, and William said that he looked just like photographs of his father.

He kissed her as hard as he dared, and then he tucked her tightly into bed and kissed her again, as he touched the long silky hair cascading over her shoulders. “Get strong again…. I’ll be back soon. … I love you … so much. …” He was grateful again that she was alive, and then he strode across the room, and looked at her one last time from the doorway. “I love you,” he said softly, as she cried, and then he was gone.

“I love you….” She called out to him, as she could hear him on the stairs. “William! … I love you! …”

“… I love you too! …” The echo came back to her, and then she heard the enormous front door bang. And a moment later she heard his car start. She got out of bed again just in time to see his car disappear around the bend toward the entrance to the château, as tears fell down her cheeks onto her nightgown. She lay in bed crying, thinking of him for a long time, and then Phillip wanted to be nursed and finally Emanuelle came again. But now, she was going to move in with them. She was going to stay and help Madame la Duchesse with the baby. It was a wonderful opportunity for her, and she was already filled with admiration for Sarah, and crazy about the baby she had helped deliver. But she was never overly familiar. She was unusually poised for a girl her age, and an invaluable help to Sarah.

The days seemed endless to Sarah after William left, and it was weeks before she even began to get her strength back. By October, when Phillip was a month old, she got a call from the Duchess of Windsor to tell her that they were back in Paris. They had seen William just before they left London, and he looked fine. He was attached to the RAF, and he was stationed north of London. The Duke of Windsor had been sent back to Paris as a major general, with the Military Mission to the French Command. But mostly it meant they were doing a lot of entertaining, which suited them both to perfection. She congratulated Sarah again on the birth of her son, and told her to come up to Paris and visit them when she felt a little stronger. William had told them what a hard time she’d had, and Wallis urged her not to overdo it.

But Sarah was already moving around the house again, keeping an eye on things, and making small repairs. She had gotten a woman from the hotel to help her clean, and Emanuelle was helping her take care of the baby. He seemed huge to her and he had gained three more pounds in four weeks. He was absolutely enormous.

Emanuelle’s brother, Henri, was helping Sarah by doing errands, but most of the men and boys who had worked for them had already disappeared and gone into the army. There was no one left to work on the château, except old men and very young boys. Even the sixteen and seventeen year olds had tried to lie their way into the army, and were gone. Suddenly, it seemed like a nation of women and children

Sarah had heard from William several times by then. His letters had gotten through, and he had called once. He said nothing much had happened yet, and he hoped to get a little time to visit her in November.

She had also heard from her parents, and they were desperate for her to come home, and bring the baby. The Aquitania had made a crossing to New York just after war was declared, despite everyone else’s fears, but she had still been too weak to move then, so they hadn’t suggested it to her. But three more ships came over to England from New York after that, the Manhattan, the Washington, and The President Roosevelt, to take Americans home to safety. But just as she insisted to William that she was safe where she was, she wrote the same thing in letters to her parents, but she still hadn’t convinced them.