Willow Grove Abbey (22 page)

All of England waited
expectantly to see what the outcome would be. Between the fourth and seventh of December, almost nothing else was talked about. The newspapers and wireless became the focus of all attention, as did Mummy’s frequent telephone calls to and from Foxy Gwynne. Of course, Papa had information from the official, governmental point of view, but only Foxy was able to provide the intimate details of conversations between the King and Mrs. Simpson. Although during that time the King’s friends, including Foxy and Emerald Cunard, made rigorous efforts to turn the situation round, all was lost. The King made up his mind to abdicate on Sunday afternoon, December Fifth. England seemed to agree with Baldwin, his Cabinet, and the Dominions. Members of Parliament, including my father, listened to their Constituencies and then returned to London. They said that the people were against morganatic marriage, Edward the Eighth, and especially Mrs. Simpson.

Edward
signed the Instrument of Abdication. Less than twenty-four hours later, he gave a heart-wrenching speech from Windsor Castle. My father returned from London exhausted, and the entire family congregated at
Willow Grove.
I wept, and everyone was caught up in the drama of the moment. My heart was with the newly abdicated King. On the other hand, Papa said that the King was a bloody fool, and my brothers naturally, concurred. The consensus among the men in my family was that the King was a weakling. Nevertheless, I tended to believe that it took immense courage and honor to renounce a Kingdom for the love of a woman. My perspective upon an individual sacrificing everything for the sake of love was to change greatly over the next decade. When I looked back years later, I was astounded by how much the various points of view held by my family
in December, 1936, had altered.

***

After that momentous occasion, everything changed, but nothing was really very different. My life continued in 1937 much as it had before. There was, of course, my devotion to Isabella, as well as my enrolment at The University of London. On 12 May, 1937, Edward’s brother, the Duke of York, was proclaimed King, as George the Sixth, and England set about restoring the dignity of the monarchy. George and his wife, Elizabeth, were definitely a much better choice. They gave off a very nice picture of domesticity, with their two little girls, Elizabeth and Margaret Rose. They seemed to be quite a normal family, especially for royalty. From a personal point of view, I thought them an immensely nice family, but I still had special feelings for the departed King Edward, thereafter known as the Duke of Windsor. On Thursday, 3 June, 1937, the Duke married Wallis Simpson at the Chateau de Cande at Tours, France. With their union, she became the Duchess of Windsor. The Royals never did accept her. They absolutely refused to allow her to use the title
Her Royal Highness
, which I thought beastly.

S
ynonymous with Edward the Eighth’s abdication, times became bleaker. It also seemed that life at
Willow Grove
became more problematic. I couldn’t put my finger upon a precise incident... it was just a vague impression. There was tension and a feeling of unrest in the household. With the unsettled conditions in Europe, Papa became more involved with business on the Continent. There was concern that if Hitler didn’t curb his aggressive tendencies, catastrophe could be waiting in the wings. Besides patriotic concerns, there was concern for my father from a business perspective. Most clients for the goods produced in the Somerville Mills were on the Continent, particularly France, Spain, Belgium, Italy and Germany, as well as the more eastern European nations, such as Austria and Poland. Therefore, it was no wonder that he was traveling more. He even made a trip to America during that period. He
did
ask Mummy to accompany him on several journeys, but she always refused, saying that both rail and steamship travel made her ill. Instead, she complained bitterly and often about his prolonged absences.

Isabella was thr
iving in the country air, and enjoying a comfortable, good life. I knew that I should set about making plans for the move to London. I’d already postponed our resettlement way beyond the initial deadline. But our circumstances were such that I wasn’t terribly motivated to do so. So, instead of the move I’d planned for January, summer, my favorite season at
Willow Grove
arrived, and I was still there. I lay in my bedchamber in the mornings, with the windows cranked open, allowing me to sniff the newly mown grass, and the sweet, fragrant climbing roses whose tendrils reached to the second story. I played with Isabella, took long walks about the grounds, and read books under my favorite old knurled tree. I wasn’t quite ready to leave.

Of course,
Mummy aggravated me at times with her selfishness, non-stop complaining and biting criticisms, yet I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She had so much and enjoyed it so little. I wished my mother could be joyful about her many blessings. Of course, her life was not perfect, but I didn’t know anyone whose was. There was certainly nothing I could say or do to alter her moods, but when fall came, my college classes saved me from the unhappiness at
Willow Grove
. I made the decision to return to school, and began by enrolling in three classes a week at The University of London
.
This required a somewhat lengthy commute back and forth to London by train. While that was a bit tiring, I considered it only a temporary inconvenience, because I
did
eventually
plan a move to Sumner Street. Isabella was well looked after, and deeply loved by Martha, so I did not feel guilty leaving her for those hours. I adored
Willow Grove
, and the magnificent countryside surrounding it, but also felt very isolated. I longed for the companionship of persons closer to my own age and University provided that outlet.

I
was mad about my course work, and the academic environment, taking a special fancy to research. As time progressed, I became a protégé to one of my favorite professors, Dr. Richard Hausfater, who was the Chair of the Department of Psychology. A staunchly serious intellectual, with an impeccable reputation in academic circles, he was universally revered among his students and colleagues. I felt honored and quite humbled when he took an interest in my educational endeavors. Time moved along swiftly, and I began to act as an Assistant in his office, correcting papers and performing mundane chores, which freed him to do important research. Sometimes he asked me to assist in his research, and those were my favorite assignments. I seemed to have a knack for finding just the proper citation needed, and spent untold happy hours sitting on the floor of the library, reading journal articles and dusty manuscripts.

The su
mmer of 1937 turned to autumn, and Isabella was about to celebrate her first birthday. It was hard to believe that a year had gone by since I’d left for Paris and the impending birth of my child. Edwina was coming to England, and the Duke and Duchess of Winnsborough were driving down for the day. I hadn’t seen them in ever so long. Not since Isabella and I had visited
Winnsborough Hall
the previous winter. It was kind of them to make the effort to come for Isabella’s birthday, since they knew that she was not their true granddaughter. I genuinely enjoyed seeing them.

On Isabella’s birthday,
Mummy wanted to have a small celebration, which was the cause for visits from the Duke and Duchess and Edwina. Both of my brothers would be there too, from London and Scotland, respectively, and Edwina was bringing a beau from Paris. It was Dieter Schoen. His command of the language had apparently improved enough that he had become intimately involved with her. She mentioned him ever more frequently in her letters. However, it was difficult for me to believe that it was more serious than any of her multitude of other ‘love affairs’. Thus, the news that she was bringing him to England was unexpected. Nevertheless, I had learned early on never to be too surprised at anything Edwina did. I was probably much more surprised that Dieter had any desire to visit England.

As soon as the decision was
made to have a birthday celebration, I immediately set about making plans. Edwina informed me that she would not be staying with our family at
Willow Grove,
which disappointed me. However, I agreed to whatever arrangements Edwina felt were suitable. I assumed that Edwina and Dieter were having an intimate relationship, and was certain that she did not want to place me into a situation that might prove untenable. It was a certainty that Mummy would have been aghast at the idea of an unmarried couple sharing a bed in her home. I didn’t know if Dieter might have friends of his own in England, or if Edwina preferred a hotel. In all candor, I greatly wished that Dieter was not accompanying her to England. I selfishly feared that we weren’t going to have any private time. We saw one another so seldom. In the end, Edwina and Dieter booked accommodations at
Easton Park
, a country hotel outside of Bath. I never asked if they booked one or two rooms.

I
was also a bit nervous about the fact that Dieter was German. Sentiments in England were running rather counter to anything Teutonic. Everyone knew Mummy’s views. In addition, I had invited Dr. Hausfater and his wife to the celebration. He’d not met any members of my family, with the exception of Isabella, for whom he had developed a special fondness. When I spent time helping in his office, I often brought Isabella along, and she charmed him. Because I’d decided to include Dr. and Mrs. Hausfater, the matter of Dieter’s presence assumed more significance. The Hausfater’s’ had fled Germany just prior to the Great War, and were Jewish. I was well-aware of Hitler’s anti-Semitism, and questioned whether I was making a mistake inviting Edwina and Dieter to Isabella’s party. Immediately upon having such a thought, I was stricken with guilt. Edwina had been so good to me, and if it hadn’t been for her, I might never have had Isabella. I knew that Edwina would never introduce someone into a social situation, if for one moment she thought that it might create tension. So, with a few lingering reservations, I pushed my fears of Dieter’s nationality aside, and looked forward to a happy occasion.

I
selected a special frock for Isabella to wear to the party. It was white taffeta, with ruffles at the collar and cuffs, and a wide yellow sash that ended in a bow at her back. Her hair, which was plentiful, fell softly into loose curls, and she wore a matching yellow bow on the top of her head. She looked adorable. I wore the black and white Chanel suit which I’d purchased in Paris, and it was delightful to dress for a joyful event, if only a child’s birthday party. I planned an afternoon of fun for Isabella with little friends from surrounding estates. There were pony rides and games of all sorts, along with various ‘goodies’, including trifle and tiny iced cakes. Isabella had a wonderful time. She toddled among the guests, showing off her dress and creating a sensation when she dumped an entire bowl of ice cream on her puppy’s head. That called for a change from her elaborate party frock to a more subdued corduroy romper, and a bath for her terrier,
Maggie
.

After Isabella’s party ended, a second adult celebra
tion began at eight o’clock. We all said goodnight to her, and gathered in the drawing room for cocktails and hors d’oevres. There were chicken livers in white wine, caviar on toast points, Roquefort cheese balls, Camembert biscuits, and exquisite pastry shells filed with Fondue au Gruyere. Edwina looked divine in black silk, and Dieter, whom I had remembered as rather pale and colorless, was actually very handsome. There was no question that his appearance was very Germanic. He had nearly white, blonde hair and glacial blue eyes, with finely chiseled features, along with a deep cleft in his chin. He and Edwina made a striking couple. One couldn’t help but imagine what perfectly lovely children they might produce. Edwina also had a somewhat Nordic appearance, what with her pink and white complexion, somewhat prominent nose, and curvaceous silhouette. Dieter was extremely polite and hospitable, presenting Mummy with a nosegay of violets and a fine bottle of German wine. He kissed Mummy and me on both cheeks. Yet, for a reason I still can’t precisely define, I didn’t care for him. I saw no warmth in his eyes, and couldn’t help but wonder how my fun-loving friend could find such a man remotely compatible.

I
didn’t have time to contemplate such thoughts however, as I was absorbed with hostess duties. Everything progressed enormously well, and it was a treat for me to be enjoying myself at a social gathering again. It was the first time in so long that I’d felt festive. I was relieved to see that my mother was being so cordial to Dieter, as I was acutely aware of her anti-German feelings. The Great War had left many of the British with ill-will toward the Germans. Many in my parents’ generation had lost their lives in the trenches along the French border. Papa had served, and I had memories of his red Melton wool jacket, trimmed with navy blue velvet and gold braid at the cuffs and collar. Blake had played ‘soldier’ in it. Papa mustered out shortly before my birth in 1917. Many of his school chums lost their lives or limbs, and even their minds, due to that conflict. Therefore, it wasn’t surprising that there remained a residue of ill will toward Germans. Those of my generation had largely put those hostilities to rest. Thus, it came as an enormous shock to hear the comment that Dieter made as we sat at the dining table, enjoying a sumptuous entrée of Fillet en Croute with Cognac and Shallot Sauce. His remarks came in response to a question put to Dieter by Dr. Hausfater.