My Oxford Year(79)

Before I can reply, my phone rings. I dig it out of my pocket as the room goes quiet. “Don’t mind me!” I urge, and everyone resumes their conversations. Everyone except William, who continues to watch me. It’s like the Blenheim ball all over again. I stand and walk to a corner of the library as I answer. “Gavin.”

I’m greeted by a tinny, speakerphone rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Janet’s horribly off-key and Gavin’s deep bass drowns her out, but it’s still sweet of them. When they’re done, they applaud. For themselves. Why do people do that?

I laugh. “Very nice! Thank you. Both of you!”

“How old are you now?” Janet asks, a chuckle in her voice.

“Twenty-five.”

Gavin groans. “I have socks older than you.”

“Now, Gavin,” she reprimands. “This is actually good news. Her being twenty-five and all.”

“Why, Janet, you’re right. Very good news.”

My ear pricks, like hearing a different frequency. They sound rehearsed. Teasing and wink-wink-nudge-nudge. “How so?” I ask.

“Well . . .” Gavin sighs theatrically. “You know the trouble we’ve been having filling the deputy political director position.” God, do I. It’s practically all we’ve talked about for months now. Janet doesn’t like any of the people Gavin and I and everyone else have thrown at her and we’re running out of suggestions. “We’ve realized that there’s one detail, one quality, that none of them have.”

My mouth dries. “Oh yeah?”

“None of them have been twenty-five.”

“Not a one!” Janet chirps.

“And we’ve agreed that’s a deal breaker. We just can’t have someone who isn’t twenty-five.”

I feel as if the smile taking over my face is going to run right off it. “I completely agree,” I manage to say.

“Good,” Gavin says. “We thought you would.” Now they both laugh. “So, you’re in?”

It’s a funny thing, clocking the moment your life changes forever while it’s happening. Usually a moment’s significance only matters in retrospect. Seeing the exit you meant to take in the rearview mirror, that sort of thing. Not this time. I suppose it’s like seeing your boyfriend go down on one knee, or watching a plus sign appear on a pregnancy test. Or, on the other side of life, opening your front door to find a sad-eyed cop with his hat in his hand.

Which just makes me think of another birthday, twelve years ago. I push it down.

“I’m in! Thank you! Both of you!”

“Just remember,” Gavin says, his stern-father voice on. “Enjoy the rest of your time there. But, on June eleventh, the carriage turns into a pumpkin and the footmen into mice. You come home and help us change the world. We’re counting on you.”

“It’s a plan,” I answer.

We hang up and I float back to my friends in a daze. I sit down once again next to Jamie; he takes my hand.

“Everything all right, Eleanor?” Antonia asks.

“Yes!” I chirp. “Sorry about that.”

“No need, love. But, if we may . . . we have something for you. William and I,” she clarifies.

William moves to stand behind her chair. They look as if they’re posing. In fact, I’m reminded of the photograph in Jamie’s dining room and realize that it was taken in this library. William sets his hand on her shoulder while she reaches into her pocket and takes out a small blue velvet box. Its edges are threadbare, showing its age. As Antonia extends her arm, presenting the box palm up, my heart drops into my stomach.

“It appears they’re proposing,” Jamie drawls.

At my hesitation, Antonia thrusts the box closer to me. “Go on, then.”

I take it. I try to keep my hand from shaking. I try to breathe. I open the lid. It’s exactly what I didn’t want to see. It’s a ring. A diamond ring. I move to hand it back. “Antonia, please, this is—”

“The diamond is flawed,” Antonia blurts. “It has no monetary value, really. No need to refuse. Jamie told us that you’re not a jewelry person,” she says, smiling. “It’s for your love of history, a keepsake that you might find of value.”

I gaze up at her.

She takes a breath. “Before the war—the first one—a wealthy American woman married into this family. Quite unwillingly. She was more than content with a young clerk she had decided upon, but her father refused their engagement and shipped her off to the wilds of Scotland. This was the ring her clerk had given her.”

I look back down at it. Emeralds encircle the diamond, which is small but well set. The band looks brand-new. Never worn.

“She kept that ring in the back of her nightstand drawer. Now, you might pity her, but don’t. She had a surprisingly happy marriage here. Had four children. My father was her eldest, actually. My grandmother and I were quite close.”

William interjects awkwardly, “She was my grandmother-in-law, you see.”

The entire room pauses. Antonia looks up at him and smiles, giving his hand a loving pat. “Yes, dear, very true.” She turns back to me and continues: “She never heard from her clerk again. She did what was asked of her—well, if it comes down to it, what she was told—yet she had a fine life regardless. Now, we don’t always get to choose what happens in life, don’t we all know. However, we can choose what we do with what we’re given.” Antonia pauses. “And so this ring is for you. A thank-you from two parents who are quite impressed with the choices you’ve made in this situation you’ve found yourself in.” She glances quickly at Jamie and smiles back at me.