Jewels (15 page)

“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.