No Regrets: A Novel of Love and Lies in World War II England (The Thornton Trilogy Book 1) (11 page)

Anne had thought at length before divulging the truth about the engagement. She knew Elise would be in Thornton-on-Sea when Sloan returned from the war. The more she thought about it, the clearer it became that she couldn’t go on pretending, after Sloan returned. The situation would become untenable when he met his mother’s lady’s maid and eventually learned that Giselle lived with a Frenchwoman named Elise. It would be obvious to Sloan that Anne had known both Giselle and Elise for some time; known them very well. Sloan made it clear, in his letters, that he hadn’t given up hope of finding Elise after the war. So, it would be impossible for Anne to omit telling him that the girl he was pining for, lived in his own home village. By telling him that she knew Elise, Anne would be in a good position to hear about everything that went on between them after his return. That was assuming, of course, that Sloan would contact Elise immediately upon his return to Thornton-on-Sea. Anne knew he would. Because he’d believe Anne was Elise’s friend, he wouldn’t question anything Anne told him about Elise. So, long before the war ended, Anne had her final plans in place.

“What are you going to do, Anne? Are you releasing him from the engagement?”

“I already have, Elise. Actually, quite some time ago. I’ve been living under the delusion that he’d change his mind, come to his senses and return to me, but that isn’t what’s happened. He’s begun to speak of you more often in his letters. He treats me as a friend and confidante, spilling his belief that you’re meant to be his. I have no choice but to give him up. I haven’t said anything to my parents, or to his. I probably won’t until I’ve had a chance to see him, but I no longer believe his feelings are only pipe dreams. Tell me, how do you feel about all of this?”

“Oh, Anne. It’s very hard to believe he’d give you up in favor of me. He’s known you all of his life. You’re everything that a countess should be. That’s a huge part of the equation. I don’t believe he’s thinking straight. He doesn’t even know me. As to what I feel for him? Nothing, really. He was very kind and attractive when I met him, but it was a brief encounter. At no time did I think of him in a romantic way. He’d been wounded, and it was war. It shocks me to hear that he has such a fantasy.”

“Well, I think you should prepare yourself for the certainty that he’ll arrive on your doorstep, as soon as possible, after he comes home. I don’t want your friendship with me to have a bearing on any decision you make. You’ve become a good friend, and Sloan has been in my life since we were children. I won’t deny my feelings for him. But, I honestly love him enough to want him to be happy. If that can’t be with me, and it
can
be with you, then I won’t stand in the way. He’s a wonderful man. I know that with certainty. I quite understand your wariness of men, but I can assure you, Sloan can be trusted in every way. He would never lie, or take advantage of you.”

“But Anne, as you well know, there are things in my past he doesn’t know – lies have been told to protect Chloe. People think I’m a widow. I don’t even go by my proper surname. I’ve never been married. How in the world would I begin to explain all of that?”

“I’ll see him after he returns. I’m fairly certain he’ll want to talk to me before seeing you. I’ll tell him you suffered greatly, after he saw you in 1940, and that you’re still not able to talk about it. Sloan is kind. He’d never insist on speaking to you about things that are upsetting. I’ll tell him everything that happened to you. He’ll understand that you were so terribly traumatized that it’s no wonder you don’t want to speak of it. I don’t think he’ll probe for answers. Not after he realizes what you’ve been through.”

“You make it all sound so easy,” Elise smiled. “I feel as though I’m digging a deeper hole of lies.”

“No, Elise. He’ll know the truth. He’ll understand that you had to tell some small lies. Only designed to protect your daughter from harm and allowing you to begin anew.”

“Oh Anne, I can’t imagine. I believe any man would be repulsed by the thought that a woman he believed virtuous and as pure as the driven snow, had been intimate with those beastly men.”

“Oh, but Elise, it wasn’t voluntary. ’Intimate’ isn’t the right word. Sloan is a compassionate man. He’d hate what was done to you. He certainly wouldn’t blame you.”

“Anne, I feel soiled and dirty. I’ve been fouled and sullied. How could he possibly want me?”

“He’d want you, because he loves you. He’ll be appalled at what happened. If I know Sloan, he will never make you speak of it to him. He won’t be repulsed. Well, perhaps by the Nazi soldiers, but never by you.”

“But don’t you understand? I’m the one who feels repulsed. I hate myself for what happened. I probably should have killed them, or myself, rather than allow my body to be used in that way.”

“Elise, that’s silly. It’s easy to say now what you should or shouldn’t have done. You did what you had to do to save your life. That was the correct thing to do. Now, no more talk of this. Let’s wait and see what Sloan has to say when he returns. Let’s see how you feel when you see him. It’s been a long time. Much has happened. Perhaps you’ll only want his friendship, in which case all of this conversation is for naught. I only wanted you to know the truth. I’ve already told him you live here, so when this bloody war is over – sorry about the language, but, I’m so fed up with all of it - you two can see one another.”

“I think it highly improbably that Sloan Thornton and I will ever be anything to one another. This is all some silly misunderstanding.”

Anne left the cottage feeling extremely positive. Elise’s reaction had been exactly what she’d envisioned. The stage was set for Sloan’s return.

Of course, Elise told Giselle about her conversation with Anne. Giselle was pleased that everything seemed to be out in the open. She wasn’t upset that Elise had long ago shared facts about Chloe’s conception. She was also glad Elise hadn’t said anything about Giselle’s own past. There was no question in her mind that she was very much in love with Ted Cabot. She suspected that when the war ended, he was likely to propose. She’d practically made herself sick with worry. He was all she’d ever dreamed of in a husband. If she were lucky enough to marry him, she could leave Europe and start a new life in America. It was said that people over there weren’t so judgmental about the class from which a person came. Most everyone she knew said Americans were potty over English people. Giselle had no doubt that she’d adore the United States. But, one, big question loomed. Should she tell Ted the truth? Or should she lie?

Ted was still based at RAF Ashford. From the little Giselle knew about his missions, many sorties were flown over the Continent. She suspected that he was heavily involved in the multitude of raids conducted over Berlin and other parts of Germany. Letters were a Godsend. Since Giselle worked during the week, it would have been hard for them to see one another, even if Ted had free days between weekends. She considered their correspondence a lifeline. The letters provided a wonderful means for learning more about each other. Sometimes it was easier to say things in writing than in person. Giselle considered telling him everything about her past in a carefully worded letter. But upon further reflection, it was clear she owed it to Ted to look him in the eye when she told the truth. Any man would be shocked upon learning that the woman he loved had a sordid past. She vacillated back and forth about whether or not to tell him. Whatever her faults, Giselle had an intense sense of honesty. Her conscience wouldn’t permit her to live the rest of her life with such a lie. For an extended period, she procrastinated, telling herself there was no rush. She could wait until the war was over. The timing had to be right. However, she knew, in her heart that she was only stalling. Finally, she decided the time had come.

It was February 1943, the beginning of around-the-clock strategic bombing in Europe. In two days, more than two thousand sorties were flown against enemy targets. Giselle strongly suspected that Ted was among those who were a part of the mission. She followed the events in the
London Times. If Ted were involved, he
would likely be granted a weekend furlough. That wasn’t uncommon procedure in the RAF. Often, after a particularly strenuous campaign, the airmen were given a rest. Giselle decided to seize the moment. She had no idea when she’d see him again. She needed to get the matter off her mind. Either he’d accept her confession, and they’d continue on together, or he would tell her it was over. Either way, she’d finally know.

She wrote and asked Ted if he could come to Thornton-on-Sea, if he got a furlough. Normally he stayed with the Whitfield family at
Meadowlands
, but because Giselle knew they’d be discussing sensitive issues, she asked if he’d consider staying at the
Dove’s Cote Inn
, a small hotel, not far from
‘No Regrets’
. He responded in the affirmative. Giselle made reservations for him, and they met at the railway station on a Friday. She waited while he checked into the pretty brick establishment, covered with climbing roses. It had been a warmer than usual winter, and some of the buds were already opened. After he was settled, they walked to her cottage. Elise had prepared a nice luncheon. Following that, Ted and Giselle decided to cycle to a spot they loved near the shoreline, where the woods came down to meet the water. It was a nice day – not at all cold - with a very blue sky. When they reached their destination, they sat together on an old pier, watching the waves and listening to the sounds of birds singing in the trees. Giselle searched her mind for the proper way to begin the conversation. However, before she had a chance, Ted began to speak.

“Giselle, I’m so glad we have this weekend together. I’ve been hoping for just this sort of break. If it were a different time – not war – I’d have so many wonderful choices – romantic choices – about where to do this. This isn’t how I planned it would be. But there isn’t any stylish restaurant, where two people can drink champagne, dance to romantic band music, and enjoy elegant surroundings. So, this will have to do. Perhaps it’s fitting.”

“I haven’t the slightest notion of what you’re talking about,” she replied.

“I know. I’m not doing this very well. The thing is, Giselle, I have something important I want to ask. Please think before you answer, because what you say will mean everything to me. I’m asking you to marry me. After this damned war has ended, I want to take you to America. You’ll love Boston, I’m sure of it. It’s also on the sea, you know. My parents will adore you. I love you and feel certain you love me. Let’s pledge to spend the rest of our lives together.” Ted fumbled around in his uniform pocket, producing a jeweler’s box. Handing it to her he said, “Please accept this as a token of my love for you, and wear it until we can marry.”

Giselle looked down at the ring. It was a lovely centre diamond, surrounded by smaller stones of the same sort, set in platinum. It was exquisite. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. This hadn’t been what she’d expected. His proposal threw her off kilter. Should she continue with her planned confession, or simply accept the ring and tell him she loved him madly? There was silence while she sat staring at the beautiful piece of jewelry. Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke.

“Ted. I can’t tell you what this means to me. From the first time I saw you, I believed you could be the man I’d always dreamed of marrying. As I’ve grown to know you better, that belief has become certain. I’d give everything I own to put this ring on my finger and to wear it forever as your wife.”

Ted started to say something, but she put her hand up, telling him he had to let her finish. “Ted, the truth is, you don’t know me well enough to be proposing to me. I understand that you think you do. I admit you should by now. But I haven’t been completely truthful with you, and before I could ever agree to be your wife, I have to be honest. I can’t let you go through life thinking one thing, when the truth is much less appealing.”

“What are you saying? I can’t imagine what I don’t know about you. We’ve shared so many thoughts and feelings. You’ve told me all about your childhood and about how you escaped from France. What do you mean when you say you haven’t been honest?”

Giselle put her head in her hands. She was trying hard not to weep. “I’m not the person you think I am. In order to make you understand, I’m going to have to start at the beginning and tell you everything. Please don’t interrupt until I’m finished. Then you can say anything you wish. I’ll understand completely if you decide you’ve made a horrible mistake. I won’t blame you. The fault is all mine. Will you listen to me until I’m through with my story?”

“Yes, of course, if that’s what you want,” he replied, looking confused.

“All right. As you know, I was born in a small village in France – Beau Ville. I was only a few months old when both of my parents died in the flu epidemic of 1918. From that time, I was shuttled from relative to relative. No one really wanted me. The war had just ended, and money was scarce. I was just another mouth to feed. I had no brothers or sisters and no aunt or uncle who loved me. The relatives I was placed with were far removed cousins and the like. They didn’t know me, and I didn’t know them. I doubt my parents even knew them. I went to many, many schools and lived in over a dozen houses before I was in my early teens. I was a very unhappy girl. In 1934, when I was sixteen, I ran away to Paris. Nobody cared enough about what happened to me to even search. I was glad of that. It was a bad time in the world, economically. America was in the midst of your Great Depression. It wasn’t so bad in France, but it wasn’t good. Especially for a sixteen year old girl, with no education and no skills of any kind. I had one thing, and one thing only. I was pretty. I was also terribly naïve and innocent. I met another girl in a place where young people went to find food. It was a sort of soup kitchen, where I could get a hot meal once a day. The girl I met was older. She was very pretty, and seemed quite sophisticated to me. She said she was going to a place called The Pleasure Club, where they were hiring young girls to do hairstyling and make-up for working women. I had no idea what ‘working women’ meant, but the idea of a job was very enticing.”

“I liked to do hair and play with make-up. I think all girls do. It sounded fun, and she told me they gave you room and board, so I wouldn’t have to worry about those necessities. Plus, they paid a wage. So I followed her, and we wound up at a large, three-story mansion – really very lovely. We were interviewed by an older woman, who seemed nice, and we were hired. My friend’s name was Colette. We shared a room. At first, it was everything Colette said it would be. I enjoyed the work, and we had good meals. Then, Colette came to me one night and told me we could make a lot more money. We would have to perform the same work as the women whose hair we styled and make-up we applied. I had no idea what sort of work they did. I know I don’t have to tell you. Of course, it was an escort service. We lived there, and men rang the house, making appointments for assignations. We were taken to nice places – restaurants, the opera, theatre, galleries – and the men were of the highest caliber, at least as far as wealth, manners, and the like. Many were businessmen on trips to Paris, or young University chaps, travelling the Continent. Naturally, at the end of the evening it was clear what was expected. Because everyone around me did the same thing, I truly didn’t see what was wrong with it. I made very good money and was treated well. I’d never been taught about religion or morals, so didn’t think I was hurting anyone. Then, the war came. Many of the girls stayed and were excited because they knew business would soar if the Germans invaded. But I wanted no part of that. I was a very patriotic French girl. So, I left and escaped to England. I went to Brighton, where I met Elise. Of course, she too had escaped from France. When Chloe was born, we decided to leave Brighton together, to begin a new life. I’d become very spiritual and religious and understood how I’d sinned. I’m horribly ashamed of what I did. I would never do it now. I was stupid and young – stupid and frightened. So, here I am. In love with you, but unable to accept your proposal because of past behavior.”

Ted leaned back against a post on the pier. His face had lost most of its colour. “Whew,” he said. Then there was more silence, as the waves crashed against the wood. “I need to think, Giselle. I understand what you’ve told me. I can honestly say I’m not angry. It’s a sad story. I just need time to absorb everything. Will you give me a day? Let me go back to my room. I need some time to myself? I admit, this is quite a shock.”

“Yes, of course I’ll give you time. All of the time you want. I don’t blame you if you never want to see me again. If I repulse you. Most men would feel that way. But I had to be honest. I do love you – more than anything, and I could crawl at your feet, begging you to forgive me. But I don’t want your pity. What I did was sinful and wrong. I should have known better. Perhaps deep in my heart I did. I really don’t know. All I know is that I’m sorry now. Whether I’d met you or not, I’d already walked away from that life. I much prefer working as a lady’s maid than dressing in fancy gowns and being wined and dined. Whether I lose you or not, it won’t matter in terms of my lifestyle. But of course, it will matter very much to my heart, because I’ve never given it to anyone before. Now, go. Go and take the time you need. Whatever you decide, I’ll still love you.”

Ted stood, looking down at Giselle, who still sat on the pier, her dark hair shining in the sunlight.

“You’re such a beautiful creature,” he murmured.

Then he turned and walked alone up the beach. He didn’t even remember to take the ring, which still lay in its velvet box next to Giselle. She wiped away tears and tucked the ring box into her pocket. She’d thought she’d feel better for having told him the truth, but she didn’t. Perhaps later, when her heart had healed. Right then, she only knew she’d been very foolish to believe, for a moment, that any decent man would want to take a whore home to his parents.