Victoria Balmoral: It's so simple

A knock on the door in the rhythm of the Westminster Chimes made Victoria jump in a flash of electricity through her body. It must be Mrs. Collingwood, she reasoned, only that busybody across the street would disturb her peace and quiet on a serene Monday when Agnes was working in the War Department and the children were at the Friends’ School. Victoria had looked forward to a day to herself, perhaps an afternoon walk in Rittenhouse Square. October’s leaves were just starting to turn gold.

Especially now. Walking toward the front door, she wanted to be alone, to adjust herself to the letter she’d read. Norman and Agnes planned to separate when he returned from the war in England. She couldn’t believe it – her younger son, a failure in his marriage, an adulterer who’d broken Agnes’s heart. They didn’t know she knew, but a mother always knows when her son misbehaves.

Marriage, so simple, really, just two people becoming one, merging for the greater purpose of love and God. Norman had never become one in his marriage – Agnes had tried, but Norman had never quite made it. And what would she, Victoria Balmoral, do? When Norman returned, she could hardly continue living with his ex-wife. She’d have to move. Yet again, the third time since she’d been widowed.

Victoria opened the door. Father Vernon, holding a piece of yellow paper, his face a wrinkled countryside of sadness. Her mouth went to jelly, her shoulders went slack, and she felt the lining of her stomach seize up. She spoke first in a soprano vibrato.

“Norman is dead.”

Her priest sighed. “I’m so very sorry for your trouble, dear Victoria. The telegram came this morning.”

“Tell me everything.”

He gave her the details, Norman decapitated by one of London’s blitzkriegs – she processed the knowledge, her baby dead, her insides began to convulse but she contained it all, shaking and stopping the shakes, shaking and stopping the shakes. Agnes will have to know, but how?

“Norman left explicit instructions, if anything were to happen, St. Mark’s would be notified first. So that we would tell you, not a yellow telegram.”

Victoria squared her shoulders. “You must go to the War Department now and tell Agnes she’s now a widow. I’ll have Grace and Harold returned from school at once.”