Jewels (13 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing. I had a kink in my back.”

“You did not.”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Thompson.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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