earliest.
They had entered this relationship with their eyes open. After only three meetings with her American Naval officer, Laura had left her children at home with their nanny and their father and flown to New York to meet Bill. He was, she knew, the only man she had ever truly loved, and the only man she ever would love. They had stayed at the Pierre Hotel on Fifth Avenue opposite Central Park, gone to bed together before dinner and stayed there for the night. In the morning Bill Baldridge had told her flatly he was going to marry her. She did not know it, but that was the only time in a somewhat rakish bachelor life he had ever uttered those particular words to anyone.
Bill then took her to the opera on successive nights, before flying her out to Kansas to meet his family. Bill’s mother, Emily, and she instantly became soul mates, and after one week Laura flew back to Edinburgh and told her husband, Douglas Anderson, a landowner and banker, that she wanted a divorce and that nothing would change her mind. Douglas Anderson was stunned. His parents, the inordinately wealthy border farmers Sir Hamish and Lady Barbara Anderson — he a senior magistrate, she a power on the main board of the Edinburgh Festival — were equally shocked. As for Laura’s parents, Admiral Sir Iain and Lady MacLean could scarcely believe it, though they had received some warning when Laura had made the journey to Kansas.
The problem was going to be the children. Except that the problem had turned out to be a bit bigger than Laura expected. The custody fight had turned into a public battleground. Douglas Anderson, the deputy chairman of the Scottish National Bank, had consulted the Edinburgh law firm of MacPherson, Roberts and Gould, who had made one thing very clear. If his two daughters, Flora, four, and Mary, six, were not to be whisked off to the American Midwest and never seen again, Anderson had but one course of action.
He must file for divorce immediately, citing his wife’s adultery with this Naval officer from the United States. They must then make every effort to paint Laura as a totally unstable woman, prone to affairs and utterly unsuited to raise her two children.
No one really believed any of this, but that is what the divorce papers claimed. The tabloid press got hold of the story when it appeared on the court lists and gleefully charged ahead under the headline: “ADMIRAL MACLEAN’S DAUGHTER ELOPES WITH KANSAS COWBOY: Edinburgh Bank Director Stunned by Wife’s Treachery.”
From then on the situation worsened. MacPherson, Roberts and Gould moved to have the girls placed under the supervision of the Scottish court, which would preclude their leaving the country at all until they were eighteen years old. The Anderson estate was under siege by photographers hoping for a glimpse of the children. The great MacLean mansion on the shore of Loch Fyne was besieged by groups of photographers hoping for a glimpse of the “scarlet woman,” Laura Anderson.
The custody hearing was brutal. With the separation order under way, Bill Baldridge flew from Kansas to be with Laura while a lawyer pleaded her case. They sat on the defendant’s side of the Court of Sessions in Edinburgh’s Parliament Square while the Admiral and Lady MacLean sat with their lifelong friends the Andersons.
No one would help Laura except for Bill. Ostracized by Scottish friends, relations, and society alike, Laura faced the music alone with the man she loved. And she wept while Urquhart MacPherson, a man she had known for many years, described her as little better than a cheap slut, who had brought disgrace upon her own family, disgrace upon the Anderson family, and heartbreak to her husband and children.
“And now…this…this…lady…seeks to make off with the children to some shack at the back end of beyond in the Wild West…I would remind you, with the granddaughters of the most eminent Scottish admiral, and one of Scotland’s most eminent landowners. There are questions of inheritance, of the natural rights of these children, but perhaps, above all, there are questions of morality. I refer now to the environment to which Mrs. Anderson intends to remove these two innocent daughters of Scotland.”
“Say what you like about ole Urquhart,” whispered Bill, “th’ ole bastard gives it everything.”
Laura’s own solicitor, citing a loveless, mistaken marriage and describing the eminence of the Baldridge family in Kansas, implored the court to use its powers to give her custody, arguing that her relationship with Baldridge did not make her an unsuitable or unfit mother. He requested that she at least be given access during the long school holidays and was irredeemably ignored.
The assessment of the judge, who sat imperturbably in his wig and flowing scarlet gown, was plain. If Laura Anderson chose to continue her adulterous relationship with the man named in her divorce, it would be a very long time before she saw Mary and Flora again. Custody would be given to their father, with formidable assurances from the entire Anderson family and also from the MacLeans that the children’s needs would be attended to for the rest of their lives. Until they were eighteen the girls would formally be wards of the court and be permitted to leave the country only at the judge’s discretion. The judgment devastated Laura, and she walked out of the courtroom, rejected by both families, clutching the arm of Lieutenant Commander Bill Baldridge. She had no more tears to weep, and she never looked back.
They left for New York that night and waited at Kennedy Airport all night for the first flight to Kansas City. Bill’s mother sent a private, twin-engined Beech-craft out to bring them home. And that had seemed to be the end of it. Until one evening last September when there was a knock on the front door of the Baldridge ranch. Bill answered it and found himself face-to-face with Admiral Sir Iain MacLean, Laura’s father, who said quietly, “Hello, Bill. I’ve brought you a bottle of decent whisky. Wondered if we might not have a talk. I won’t take up much of your time. I’ve got a driver.”
As it happened, the Admiral had stayed for four days, charmed Emily Baldridge almost to distraction, and on the third day made his confession — that he had come to see them because he knew he would never have forgiven himself for having sat in that courtroom and turned his hand against the daughter he loved. “Besides,” he told her, “I am very fond of your…er…fiance…matter of fact I like him much better than I ever liked young Douglas, and I’ve been trying to mend a few fences really.”
The Admiral had come with some fresh legal advice, a course of action that may never have stood a chance against the combined Anderson-MacLean battalions, but would most certainly stand a chance if Sir Iain now stood alongside Bill and Laura.
He proposed they file a new appeal against the decision of the court that the girls not be allowed to leave Scotland and that their father enjoy sole custody. “Thing is, you know, I found out that Douglas has got a new girlfriend, a girl with a bit of a past, actress up from London for the festival. Totally unsuitable of course. But I think we might have a chance now. I mean my daughter did run off with a highly regarded United States Naval officer who has a degree in nuclear physics from MIT and counts the President among his friends. Meanwhile, Douglas Anderson is cavorting around with some actress, from Notting Hill Gate, in London. Quite frankly, my dear, I’d prefer my granddaughters to live here. And if the court won’t grant that, they’ll grant something, I’m sure.”
In the weeks that followed, their appeal was heard twice with lawyers only, plus a private appearance by the Admiral. It was then put back until March, pending a suitable defense from Douglas Anderson. But in Sir Iain’s opinion, he had done the damage. And no one thought the court order would remain in place after July of this year.
And now Laura Anderson was looking forward to her divorce decree coming through. She and Bill were to be married on May 20, and the awful strains of the past year would soon be behind them. But it had all taken a toll on the dark-haired daughter of Sir Iain. She looked every one of her thirty-five years, she had lost weight and often seemed preoccupied. The rift with her own mother was also a source of grave worry to her.
Bill had known he had to take her away, somewhere interesting, warm, and relaxing. He wasn’t exactly sure that a voyage through the Roaring Forties was absolutely ideal, but it was a lot better than a ranch out on the frozen Great Plains at this time of year. And he regarded with profound gratitude the summons to the lonely Southern Ocean from the commanding officer of USS
5
Boomer Dunning took the helm of
