Her cousin’s children were bidding the adults good night. The girl bussed her grandmother’s cheek, then nodded to her mother. None of the adults set down their drinks or shifted from their languid poses to envelop the children in a hug. The governess led them away. Did they long for the warmth of their parents’ arms as much as Audrey had?
She turned away to hide her tears, pretending to look for something on the bar cart. She tried to imagine Robert and herself sitting here while their son, Bobby, stood rigidly before them, waiting for a gesture of approval and love. The image made Audrey shudder. Robert wouldn’t want this legacy for his son. He wouldn’t want Bobby to grow up the way she and Alfie had. And Audrey knew with all her heart that she didn’t want it for her son, either. She had come to London determined to reenter life among the gentry, as her mother would have wished. But as she observed her uncle’s family, she knew she needed to find some other way to support her son besides returning to this. But where could she go? How would she and Bobby live?
The family proceeded into the dining room for dinner, then politely discussed unimportant things while they ate. Audrey’s mind raced, searching for a way out as if she were trapped in the dark ATS training shed again, the room slowly filling with gas. The question the vicar had asked four years ago sprang to mind, unbidden. “What might God be asking you to do?” It was a much bigger question than where she would live or how she would survive. It meant finding a greater purpose in life than pleasing other people. It was what Robert would have wanted for her, as well.
“You said you had something you wanted to discuss?” Audrey’s uncle asked after dinner. He led her into his stately library while the others retired to the sitting room for brandy.
Audrey drew a steadying breath and got right to the point. “Father is selling Wellingford Hall.”
“My goodness. Why?”
Audrey debated whether or not to tell him the truth and decided not to. If her uncle didn’t already know that Alfred Clarkson wasn’t her real father, she wouldn’t tarnish Mother’s memory by telling him. Some secrets were better left hidden. “Father is moving up north. But my son and I won’t be going with him.”
“Do you plan to resettle here in London?”
“That seems to be my best option.”
“Your aunt and I will be happy to introduce you to the right social circles. I believe you’ll do very well here once you find your place.”
Audrey could only nod, fighting tears as she remembered how bleak and pointless her life had seemed before the war. Before Robert.
“The first step will be to hire an estate agent and get you settled in a flat. Did your father say what your annual allowance will be for living expenses?”
“Father won’t be providing anything.”
“My dear! If you two have had a row, I urge you to reconcile as swiftly as possible. It costs a great deal to live in London these days.”
“I’m afraid a reconciliation isn’t possible. But Father did mention that Mother had a trust fund. I was hoping you might know something about it.”
“Our family’s banker will know. But I doubt if there’s much left. Rosamunde did enjoy the finer things, you know.”
Audrey swallowed the last of her pride. “Might you be able to help us get on our feet?”
He sighed and looked away. “I wish I were in a position to help, but I’m not. However, I will be happy to speak with your father on your behalf. Surely he can—”
“No. Please don’t.” Audrey’s cheeks burned with shame. “Just let me know about the trust fund.”
“Of course. I’ll look into it.”
“Thank you, Uncle Roger.” She rose, longing to flee to her room, yet good manners required her to return to the sitting room and visit with the others.
“I have one further thought,” her uncle said before Audrey reached the door. “In the event that the trust is depleted, as I’m guessing it is, might your husband’s American family offer some support?”
“Perhaps.” The thought had occurred to Audrey before she’d come to London, but she had quickly dismissed it. She had refused the Barretts’ offer after Robert died, and they hadn’t contacted her since. How dare she ask them for help now?
As she drove home to Wellingford the following day, Audrey had time to consider her dwindling options. And to pray. She hadn’t prayed in a while. “What might God be asking you to do?” She still had no idea, but the visit with her uncle had convinced her that she didn’t want to return to a cold, loveless life with the gentry. She would use whatever funds remained in the trust to live in London on her own. After all, Eve had once taught her to cook and run a household without servants.