Книга - The Cavendon Luck

The Cavendon Luck
Barbara Taylor Bradford


‘A glorious family saga for Downton Abbey fans’ lovereading.co.ukThe great house of Cavendon Hall has stood on the Yorkshire moors for centuries. Two families, the aristocratic Inghams and the Swanns who serve them, have been bound by loyalty since the first stone was laid.But when war looms, sons, husbands and brothers are called up to fight; trials and tragedies strike the great house itself. The women of every generation and background must rise to meet the terrible threat posed by Hitler.The Cavendon Luck has held for a long time. Can it hold in the face of this greatest threat of all – and can it protect the next generation?






















Copyright (#u55828179-aaf5-5445-9fce-02253d252cd5)


Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

The News Building

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2016

This edition published by Harper 2017

Copyright © Barbara Taylor Bradford 2016

Cover design by Heike Schüssler © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2016

Cover photographs © Ilina Simeonova/ Trevillion Images (front); Angelo Hornak/ Corbis (house); London Express/ Getty Images (planes); Shutterstock.com (http://Shutterstock.com) (sky).

Barbara Taylor Bradford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN 9780007503339

Ebook Edition © June 2016 ISBN: 9780007503322

Version 2017-03-23




Dedication (#u55828179-aaf5-5445-9fce-02253d252cd5)


For Bob, with all my love always


Table of Contents

Cover (#u65c4ee5a-3b46-5f44-b1e0-b16ec68f4613)

Title Page (#u8ae4d925-acb7-544a-9862-ab668d808205)

Copyright (#ufa901089-e449-565f-877e-ff9a476443f8)

Dedication (#u12391b47-021c-50e1-8408-ff349b7d1550)

Characters (#u488fff04-1c62-5b94-b0d1-1ab23274a314)

Part One: The Inghams & The Swanns (#u42251581-5f11-5a7e-b44d-aa500fb06ec3)

Predictions (#u56b0e7ad-9ae5-557e-bad6-07ca017ae1b8)



Chapter One (#ucc696779-8cbe-5676-ad41-ddba0da9d4d5)



Chapter Two (#ud6ce926f-471f-54b9-8a1f-993aa8cbf36a)



Chapter Three (#ub7437c15-488c-5c8f-b577-a2fe8d85de78)



Chapter Four (#uc9320138-6cf2-5440-9c17-c3d0135709d7)



Chapter Five (#u57400300-1a51-5712-ab60-47912a0fc1d8)



Chapter Six (#u4976422d-2261-506f-84a6-bbae82a01b21)



Chapter Seven (#u20fa23a3-43eb-5261-ad6a-a3c36efebe7a)



Chapter Eight (#u63b1d3c3-ef66-577d-b7d5-6aa97f29a1da)



Foreign Intrigue (#u2cb4eb6d-1f16-5c61-b758-7af10f64a4c7)



Chapter Nine (#u64728910-5c36-51ea-bc18-fdcb1370c29d)



Chapter Ten (#ub978bc9f-2248-5a1e-8424-662af3810b13)



Chapter Eleven (#u5bad9ff2-1c2d-50ec-9933-f0634f1d95af)



Chapter Twelve (#u5cb75e5b-00a8-5848-bbe1-e207080e2f60)



Chapter Thirteen (#u8925ae8b-c9ec-50a9-a3d8-7e4fb23af804)



Chapter Fourteen (#u0297e9fe-1c09-5537-a989-4a285a2e9e81)



Chapter Fifteen (#u18f28d1a-070b-54b4-9e70-f3bae9876acc)



Chapter Sixteen (#ub97fc1d6-b5d5-5ac8-bb15-06ac7136e602)



Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Games of Chance (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)



Love in Many Guises (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)



No Goodbye (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Forty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Forty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Forty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Forty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)



Part Two: Women & War (#litres_trial_promo)



Against All Odds (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Forty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Forty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Forty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Forty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)



Land of Hope and Glory (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fifty (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fifty-One (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fifty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fifty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)



Fifty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fifty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fifty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fifty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)



Blitz (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fifty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fifty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)



Standing Tall (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Sixty (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Sixty-One (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Sixty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Sixty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)



Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo)



About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)



Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford (#litres_trial_promo)



About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




CHARACTERS (#u55828179-aaf5-5445-9fce-02253d252cd5)




ABOVE THE STAIRS

THE INGHAMS IN 1938

Charles Ingham, 6th Earl of Mowbray, aged 69. Owner and custodian of Cavendon Hall. Referred to as Lord Mowbray. He is now married to Charlotte Swann, 70, who is the 6th Countess of Mowbray.

THE CHILDREN OF THE EARL AND HIS FIRST WIFE, FELICITY, NOW DECEASED

Miles Ingham, heir to the earldom, aged 39. He is known as the Honourable Miles Ingham and is married to Cecily Swann, 37. They have three children: Miles’s heir, David, 9, Walter, 7, and Venetia, 5. Miles runs the Cavendon estate. Cecily commutes between Cavendon and their London townhouse to run her fashion business.

Lady Diedre Ingham Drummond, eldest daughter, aged 45. She is now widowed and lives in London with her son, Robin, 11. She works at the War Office again. They come to Cavendon at weekends where they have their own quarters.

Lady Daphne Ingham Stanton, second daughter, aged 42. She remains married to Hugo Ingham Stanton, 57. They live permanently at Cavendon Hall, in the South Wing, with their five children.

Lady DeLacy Ingham, third daughter, aged 37, living in London and at Cavendon. DeLacy remains unmarried. Long divorced from Simon Powers, she reverted to her maiden name years before.

Lady Dulcie Ingham Brentwood, fourth daughter, aged 30. She lives in London and at Cavendon. She is married to Sir James Brentwood, 45, one of England’s greatest actors, who was knighted by King George VI. They have three children: twins Rosalind and Juliet, 9, and a son, Henry, 6.

The four daughters of the Earl are still referred to affectionately as the Four Dees by the staff.

The children of Lady Daphne and Mr Hugo Stanton are Alicia, aged 24; Charles, 20; the twins, Thomas and Andrew, age 17, and Annabel, aged 14.

OTHER INGHAMS

Lady Vanessa Ingham Bowers, sister of the Earl, aged 56. She is married to Richard Bowers, 58. They live in London and at Skelldale House on the Cavendon estate, which Lady Vanessa inherited from her sister Lady Lavinia Ingham Lawson, deceased.

Lady Gwendolyn Ingham Baildon, the widowed aunt of the Earl, aged 98, who resides at Little Skell Manor on the estate. She was married to the late Paul Baildon.

The Hon. Hugo Ingham Stanton, first cousin of the Earl, aged 57. He is the nephew of Lady Gwendolyn, the sister of his late mother. He is married to Lady Daphne.

BETWEEN STAIRS

THE SECOND FAMILY: THE SWANNS

The Swann family has been in service to the Ingham family for one hundred and eighty-five years. Consequently, their lives have been intertwined in many different ways. Generations of Swanns have lived in Little Skell village, adjoining Cavendon Park, and still do. The present day Swanns are as devoted and loyal to the Inghams as their forebears were, and would defend any member of the family with their lives. The Inghams trust them implicitly, and vice versa.

THE SWANNS IN 1938

Walter Swann, valet to the Earl, aged 60. Head of the Swann family.

Alice Swann, his wife, aged 57. A clever seamstress who still makes outfits for Lady Daphne’s daughters.

Harry, son, aged 40. A former apprentice landscape gardener at Cavendon Hall, he is now running the estate with Miles.

Cecily, daughter, aged 37. She is married to Miles and is a world-renowned fashion designer.

OTHER SWANNS

Percy, younger brother of Walter, aged 57. Head gamekeeper at Cavendon.

Edna, wife of Percy, aged 58. Does occasional work at Cavendon.

Joe, their son, aged 37. Works with his father as a gamekeeper.

Bill, first cousin of Walter, aged 52. Head landscape gardener at Cavendon. He is widowed.

Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 63. Head of interior maintenance and carpentry at Cavendon. Widowed.

Paul, son of Ted, aged 39, working with his father as an interior designer and carpenter at Cavendon.

Eric, brother of Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 58. Butler at the London house of Lord Mowbray. Single.

Laura, sister of Ted, first cousin of Walter, aged 51. Housekeeper at the London house of Lord Mowbray. Single.

Charlotte, aunt of Walter and Percy, aged 70. Now 6th Countess of Mowbray. Charlotte is the matriarch of the Swann and Ingham families. She is treated with great respect by everyone. Charlotte was the secretary and personal assistant to David Ingham, the 5th Earl, until his death. She married the 6th Earl in 1926.

Dorothy Pinkerton, née Swann, aged 55, cousin of Charlotte. She lives in London and is married to Howard Pinkerton, a former Scotland Yard detective. She works with Cecily at Cecily Swann Couture.

CHARACTERS BELOW STAIRS

Mr Henry Hanson, Butler

Mrs Jean Weir, Housekeeper

Miss Susie Jackson, Cook

Mr Gordon Lane, Under butler

Mr Ronald Gorme, Second footman

Miss Kate Smithers, Head housemaid

Miss Brenda Caine, Second housemaid

Mr John Goff, Chauffeur

OTHER EMPLOYEES

Miss Angela Chambers, nanny for Cecily’s children, usually addressed as Nanny or Nan.

Miss Eileen Marks, the governess, usually addressed as Miss Marks. The governess is not at Cavendon in the summer. The children are not in school.

THE OUTDOOR WORKERS




A stately home such as Cavendon Hall, with thousands of acres of land, and a huge grouse moor, employs local people. This is its purpose for being, as well as providing a private home for a great family. It offers employment to the local villagers, and also land for local tenant farmers. The villages surrounding Cavendon were built by various earls of Mowbray to provide housing for their workers; churches and schools were also built, as well as post offices and small shops at later dates. The villages around Cavendon are Little Skell, Mowbray and High Clough.


There are a number of outside workers: a head gamekeeper and five additional gamekeepers; beaters and flankers who work when the grouse season starts and the Guns arrive at Cavendon to shoot. Other outdoor workers include woodsmen, who take care of the surrounding woods for shooting in the lowlands at certain times of the year. The gardens are cared for by a head landscape gardener, and five other gardeners working under him.

The grouse season starts in August, on the Glorious Twelfth, as it is called. It finishes in December. The partridge season begins in September. Duck and wild fowl are shot at this time. Pheasant shooting starts on 1 November and goes on until December. The men who come to shoot, usually aristocrats, are always referred to as the Guns, i.e., the men using the gun.



PART ONE (#u55828179-aaf5-5445-9fce-02253d252cd5)




PREDICTIONS (#u55828179-aaf5-5445-9fce-02253d252cd5)


Tinker, tailor,

Soldier, sailor,

Rich man, poor man,

Beggar man, thief.

Old English nursery rhyme




ONE (#ulink_79cd33e7-b17e-5f2a-aa68-ca0fdaa1588e)


Cecily Swann Ingham stood on the outside steps of the office annexe at Cavendon Hall, glancing around. What a change in the weather, she thought. From a gloomy, overcast morning it had become a radiant afternoon.

Blue sky. No clouds. Brilliant sunlight filtering through the leafy trees. A perfect day in late July. A smile of pleasure touched her face fleetingly.

Walking down the steps and crossing the stable yard, she headed for the dirt path through Cavendon Park which led to Little Skell village.

Cecily thought suddenly of her son’s birthday earlier in the month as she strode ahead. It had poured with rain that day and spoiled their plans for the garden party. The celebration was held indoors in the end. She couldn’t help wishing it had been a glorious day like this. On the other hand, David hadn’t minded about the weather. It was his ninth birthday and he had enjoyed every moment, as had his brother, seven-year-old Walter, and their sister Venetia, who was five. It had been a happy time for the family, and that was what counted most; their enjoyment derived from the festivities, and what Miles always called the ‘gathering of the clan’.

Later that night when they were in bed, Miles had drawn her closer to him, and had wondered out loud where all the years had gone. She had said she didn’t know and had reminded him that time always flew when they were together.

He had laughed and pulled her even closer, stroking her hair. After a moment, she had added that they had been busy raising three children, going about their own business and keeping Cavendon safe.

She recalled how he had murmured his thanks for all that, had wrapped his arms around her, then slipped on top of her, kissing her, touching her tenderly. Within seconds they were making love to each other with the same excitement and joyousness they had always known.

Suddenly, remembering that night so clearly, she couldn’t help wondering if he had made her pregnant on their son’s ninth birthday? They had both been so eager for each other, and intense. It had been a passionate night.

The idea of pregnancy lingered. She was thirty-seven. If she was pregnant, then so be it. I must think of another child as a gift, because soon my child-bearing years will be over. But having a child with war coming? This thought troubled her. She pushed it away, and hurried on towards the village. And her mind turned to the huge amount of work she and Miles had done to make Cavendon Hall and the family safe. Her brother Harry had plunged in too, as well as her four sisters-in-law. They had been hard years in so many ways.

Each of them had made all sorts of sacrifices, and had frequently used their own money to keep everything afloat.

But they had done it.

The Inghams and the Swanns, pulling together, had accomplished miracles. Cavendon was now set on the right course. And it was safe.

Yet even now, today, there was that awful little knot in her stomach. Earlier, Cecily had put this down to her worry about Harry plus her concern for Greta, her personal assistant, but she knew instinctively that neither was the real reason for her anxiety.

It was something entirely different, and it troubled her constantly, nagged at her, gave her sleepless nights.

Germany’s menacing Third Reich was casting a giant shadow across Britain, as it had done for the longest time over central Europe. And that was causing her tension. The Reich was sinister and dangerous, and the threat of war hovered. Cavendon would be at risk if there was an invasion … the whole country would be at risk. And Europe, too. The whole world, actually. She understood that only too well.

When Cecily came to the walled rose garden she paused, then pushed open the heavy oak door and went down the steps. The fragrance of late-blooming summer roses enveloped her instantly. She breathed deeply and sat down on an iron garden seat. Leaning back, she closed her eyes, trying to relax for a few moments.

This lovely old garden had not changed for centuries; it was a tranquil refuge for her, as it always had been since she was a child. She sat in here almost every day, if only for a few minutes. She loved the scent of the roses, the peacefulness behind the high brick walls. This place soothed her troubled senses, helped her to clear her mind, sort out her worries.

Her thoughts went to her mother. Cecily knew she was busy with preparations for war, working with the women in the three villages who were members of the Women’s Institute. It was run by Charlotte, who was the president. They were quite an amazing collection of village women, and had come up with solutions to make life easier if war did come to their shores.

Of course it will come, Cecily muttered to herself. The Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, believed he could appease Adolf Hitler, who had already annexed Austria and was eyeing Sudetenland in Czechoslovakia.

On the other hand, Winston Churchill understood the futility and terrible danger of appeasement, and kept on warning the government that war was imminent. Churchill was right, she was certain of that. Horrific as that thought was.

The drone of a low-flying aircraft cut off Cecily’s thoughts, and she jumped up, lifted her head to the blue sky, and that first flash of fear dissipated at once.

The small plane did not bear the emblem of Nazi Germany, the swastika. It belonged to Noel Jollion, the nineteen-year-old son of Commander Edgar Jollion of the Royal Navy, who lived on the other side of Mowbray village, near High Clough. The commander had built an airstrip in a long field on his land at Burnside Manor because his son loved flying.

Returning to the garden seat, Cecily sat down, and tried to throw off her concern about the war. But she was finding it difficult this afternoon. It was on her mind.

Last week Hanson had taken her and Miles down into the vast cellars of Cavendon, and had shown them the preparations he had begun to make for war.

The cellars were always crisply clean, with whitewashed walls and well-swept floors. Hanson had pointed out a stack of camp beds which he had brought out of storage. There were sofas, armchairs and small tables, all of which had been in the attics. The Earl had told him to make the cellars as comfortable as possible, in case they had to live in them. Also all of the paintings and other objets d’art would be placed in the lower vaults as soon as there was a declaration of war between Britain and Germany, he had told them.

It seemed to her that Hanson, as usual, had been very efficient. There was even a refrigerator which had been purchased at Harrods and delivered by a Harrods van. What would they do without Hanson? He was supposed to retire in December. He was seventy-six and had been in service at Cavendon for fifty years. She for one hoped that wouldn’t happen. He looked as fit as a fiddle and they needed him.

Reluctantly, Cecily left her sanctuary, and continued on her way to her parents’ house in the village. But first she must stop at the Romany wagon where Genevra lived. She needed to talk to her.




TWO (#ulink_08fb55ce-cf2d-53d7-88f5-7ed7c82aac44)


When Cecily turned the bend in the dirt path, she immediately saw Genevra, who was sitting on the steps of the wagon, waiting for her. As usual, she was wearing an old Cecily Swann frock, given to her by Cecily’s mother. It was red-and-white striped cotton, a summer frock, and it suited her.

The gypsy raised her hand and waved.

Cecily waved back, smiling. She noticed that there was a wooden chair waiting for her. This thoughtfulness pleased her.

Genevra had an excited expression on her face, an expectancy about her. She was thirty-nine, the same age as Miles, though she did not look her age, appeared to be much younger. She was still a good-looking woman – dark, exotic – and her abundant hair was as raven-black as it had been in her youth.

When they had moved their wagons to the lower field five years ago, Genevra had invited Cecily into her wagon for the first time for a glass of mint tea. Not wishing to hurt her, feeling bound to accept this invitation, Cecily had gone inside and had discovered, to her enormous surprise, a treasure trove.

Genevra was an artist, and a talented one at that. The paintings on the walls of the extremely neat living area had astonished Cecily. They were landscapes of Cavendon for the most part, and executed in brilliant, vivid colours. Later, DeLacy had told her they would be categorized as Naïve art.

Yet they had a style, a genuinely unique style of their own. Genevra’s style, Cecily called it. The paintings were bold, commanding, caught the eye at once. But it was the shimmering look of the bright colours, the odd sheen on the canvas that captivated everyone, and at once.

Cecily had soon found out that Genevra had been painting since her childhood. Her brother Gervaise had encouraged her, and when she was older he had bought her canvases and oil paints when he could afford them. She was totally self-taught, a natural and gifted artist.

Cecily had instantly asked if she could buy one of them. Genevra had refused that day. Instead she had offered her a painting as a gift. In the end, Cecily had chosen one that was evocative, and very meaningful to her. The painting showed a corner of the high wall in the rose garden, and a profusion of late-blooming roses, a fusion of many different pinks and faded reds against a portion of the grey stone wall.

Genevra came down the steps to greet Cecily; as always she did a little bob, a sort of curtsey, as she took Cecily’s outstretched hand in hers.

‘I put out a chair, Mrs Miles,’ Genevra said, indicating the wooden chair.

‘Thank you,’ Cecily murmured, and sat down.

Genevra returned to her place on the steps.

Cecily stared at Genevra, frowning. She thought she looked a bit pinched, tired. ‘You haven’t been sick again, have you?’ she asked worriedly. She had not seen her for ten days.

Genevra smiled faintly. ‘No. Not sick. Good.’

‘You look a bit peaked to me.’

‘I’m not sick, liddle Ceci,’ Genevra muttered, eyeing her knowingly. ‘I’ll be first ter knows that. Then I’ll tell yer, and yer’ll be the second ter knows. Not dying. Not yet.’

‘Don’t be cross. I care for you, Genevra.’

‘Aye, I knows that, Mrs Miles.’

‘I’m going away on Monday with Miles. We’re going to visit Lady Daphne and Mr Hugo in Zurich. If you need anything whilst I’m gone, my mother will help you.’ She smiled at her. ‘You just have to go and see her.’

Genevra nodded. ‘Yer going on holiday. Mrs Alice tell me that.’

‘Just for two weeks. Miles needs a rest …’ Cecily’s voice trailed off. She had suddenly noticed a strange look on Genevra’s face. ‘What is it? Is there something wrong?’

‘The sight. It just comes over me. Yer knows that.’

Cecily nodded, remained quiet. After all these years, she knew she had to be still. And mute.

‘Yer’ll have ter be brave, liddle Ceci, as yer’ve allus been. There’ll be deaths. War is coming. Big war. Bad times. Terrible things coming.’ The Romany woman halted, closed her eyes. After a moment she opened them, added, ‘Yer’ll rule at Cavendon. I’ve allus knowed that.’

‘Why now?’ Cecily asked, a frown settling on her face.

‘What do yer mean?’ Genevra sat staring at Cecily.

‘Why are you telling me this now? Usually you’re rather secretive, not always so open.’

‘Cos I knows yer believe me, tek me predictions as truth … understand ’em.’

‘I do, yes, that’s true, Genevra.’

‘The future. Yer’ll have that, Ceci. And yer will rule.’

‘With Miles?’

Genevra did not answer, staring up at Cavendon Hall, towering on the hill high above them. The golden house, shimmering in the sunshine. A blessed house.

‘When you sound strange like this I don’t really understand what you mean,’ Cecily protested, returning Genevra’s hard stare.

‘Bad times are coming.’

‘Do you mean the war?’

Genevra inclined her head. ‘Life. Hard times. Bad times. Death, destruction, sorrow, pain. Much suffering. All coming.’

Turning her head, Genevra looked at Cavendon once more. Unexpectedly, tears filled her eyes. The golden sheen which usually gilded the walls had vanished. It was no longer golden. It was doomed. The great stately home was covered in shadows … shadows growing darker and darker. In her mind’s eye she saw huge black clouds floating around its rooftop. She heard thunder; there were streaks of white lightning.

After a while, Genevra finally opened her eyes, said in a low tone, ‘Turmoil. Chaos.’ She shook her head, became silent, and wiped the tears from her face with her fingertips.

There was a long silence.

Genevra smiled faintly. ‘Swanns rule.’

Cecily said, ‘Cavendon has been lucky over the past few years. The luck will last, won’t it? Nothing will change, will it?’

‘It allus does. Good luck. Bad luck.’ Genevra shook her head, and leaned forward, her gaze penetrating. ‘It comes. It goes. Nobody knows … Luck belongs ter nobody … luck belongs ter life. Nowt yer can do about it, liddle Ceci. Do yer understand me?’

‘I do, Genevra, and I thank you.’




THREE (#ulink_7770566e-a524-5bdd-8d56-da9e2ba34663)


When the front door suddenly flew open, Alice sat up with a start, and then instantly jumped to her feet as Cecily walked in, a huge smile on her face. Hurrying forward, Cecily took hold of her mother and kissed her, hugged her close.

‘Sorry I’m late, Mam,’ she said, and then turned and closed the door behind her.

‘I was just doing paperwork; no problem, Ceci,’ Alice murmured, and mother and daughter walked into the room together. They sat down in two armchairs facing each other, and Alice said, ‘You look bonny today, love, but pale pink has always suited you.’

‘I know, and thanks. You look pretty good yourself, Mam.’

‘Of course I do, I’m wearing a dress my daughter made for me. I like it, and it’s comfortable and cool on a hot day like this.’

‘I’ve made another version of it, also in cotton,’ Cecily confided. ‘It’s a sort of wrap dress, almost like a robe, and it ties at one side. I’m doing the same style for the winter collection made of light cashmere. I’ll bring you several when they’re ready.’

‘Thank you, love, you’re always so thoughtful.’

‘Don’t be silly, you’re my mother, you can have anything you want from me. Anyway, when we spoke on the phone yesterday you said you were making a plan. But for what?’

‘I came up with an idea. Creating a communal allotment for the village. I went straight to Charlotte and asked her for a field. And she asked the Earl, and he agreed it was a wonderful idea, very practical, and he immediately gave me a field.’

Alice nodded as she finished her sentence, looked a little pleased with herself. ‘That’s how it came about, and it was as simple as that … just asking.’

Alice stood up and beckoned to Cecily. ‘Come over to my desk, and pull up a chair. I want to show you my plan.’

Within seconds the two of them were sitting side by side at Alice’s desk, where her Women’s Institute papers were spread out, along with the detailed plan of the field that was going to be the communal allotment. This would be planted and tended by the women who wished to do this work.

Turning to Alice, Cecily said, ‘It is a practical idea. Food will be a problem if war comes.’

‘When it comes,’ Alice corrected.

‘Too true,’ Cecily agreed, and then said in a slightly odd tone, ‘you could just as easily have asked Miles for a field, or even your son. Harry does run the estate with Miles, you know.’

‘You’re right, I could have done that, Ceci. But I don’t think that would have been the correct thing. The Sixth Earl is still the Sixth Earl; he’s not dead yet, and it is his land. I thought it only proper to approach him, via Charlotte.’

‘I understand now, Mam,’ Cecily answered, offering Alice a warm smile.

Looking down at the large sheet of paper, she saw how cleverly the field had been designed to work as an allotment.

Each square patch was marked, and the name of the vegetable to be grown there written in. ‘Potatoes, carrots, parsnips,’ Cecily read out. ‘Onions, sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower …’ She stopped, suddenly laughing, and shook her head. ‘You’re a master planner, Mother! Harry must get his talent for gardening and landscaping from you.’

‘Goodness me, he’s much cleverer than I am,’ Alice murmured, and turned in her chair. She gave her daughter a knowing look. ‘Did you manage to speak to Harry? You know … about that … person.’

Shaking her head, Cecily replied in a low voice, ‘No, I didn’t. We were supposed to have a chat earlier this afternoon.’

‘His affair with that scandalous woman has started to leak out!’ Alice exclaimed, her tone suddenly turning angry. ‘He thinks it’s a big secret, but it isn’t, and your father now knows about it. He’s furious. You know how much His Lordship abhors scandal. And scandal is about to flare around your brother.’

‘I agree with everything you’re saying, Mother, but he is a grown man. Forty years old to be exact. He’ll tell me it’s none of my business.’

‘But you will speak to him?’ Alice sounded anxious, and there was a concerned look in her eyes.

‘I will, I promise. I’ll do it tomorrow morning,’ Cecily reassured her mother.

Alice nodded, and pursed her lips. Her voice was more even and steady when she said, ‘He ought to know better than to get involved with her. Pauline Mallard is a married woman. Furthermore, she’s an American heiress, a socialite, living the high life in London and New York. And now in Harrogate. But I suppose you know all this.’

‘Well, yes, I do, Mam.’

‘In the end she’ll make a fool of him, you’ll see. And, not only that, she’s a lot older than he is.’

‘But rather beautiful, I hear. A stunning redhead,’ Cecily interjected.

‘And rather promiscuous … that’s what I hear,’ Alice shot back, obviously wanting to have the last word.

‘After Genevra gave me the message, she said something rather odd right out of the blue. She told me not to say anything to Harry about the woman. I was really taken aback. Genevra then added that she would drop him, that she was not his destiny, some other woman was.’

Alice stared at her. ‘How could Genevra know about Pauline Mallard? Do you think he brought her here to the house? And that Genevra saw them together?’

‘No, I’m sure not. However, I was struck by the way she said it, so sure of her sight, as she calls it, her visions of the future. And then there was her use of the word “destiny”.’ Cecily’s voice was puzzled.

She cleared her throat, and went on slowly, ‘Genevra has her own particular speech pattern, Mam. It’s jerky, rather staccato, and mostly her sentences are composed of small words. So I found it curious that she even knew a word like destiny, since she doesn’t read.’

‘Oh but she does!’ Alice exclaimed.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course. I taught her.’

Cecily was so surprised she gaped at Alice. ‘When did you do that and why didn’t you ever tell me?’

‘It never occurred to me. It was just sort of … happenstance. After you’d gone off to live with Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Howard in London, I’d dropped off some of your old dresses for her. She came over to thank me, and asked about you. She was very intense, and it struck me then that she had a strong connection to you, Ceci, and was concerned about you and your wellbeing. I showed her some of those first little stories about your designs in the fashion magazines. That’s when she confessed she couldn’t read. I taught her. She learned to read at my knee.’

‘How lovely of you to do that.’ Cecily was impressed and it showed on her face.

‘She was very appreciative.’ Alice hesitated for a few moments before finally asking, ‘Did you ever feel there was this … connection between you, Cecily?’

‘I did. I still do. She told me twenty-five years ago that Swann will rule. So yes, there is this connection between us.’

‘What did she actually say twenty-five years ago?’ Alice asked, filled with curiosity.

‘It wasn’t actually what she said … I ran into her one day on the dirt road. She took a long twig and drew a square with a bird perched on top of it in the dirt. I asked her what it meant, and she wouldn’t tell me. Then she said it was nowt, nothing, and skipped off.’

‘And today she told you what it meant?’

‘No, she didn’t. I sort of figured it out years ago. The square represented Cavendon Hall and the bird a swan. What she was saying in the drawing was that the Swanns and the Inghams would link up.’

Alice did not respond for a moment and then murmured quietly, ‘She couldn’t have known then that your life would turn out the way it did. That you, a Swann, would marry the son of an earl. So there must be something to her claim to have the sight, to have the ability to foresee the future. You believe her predictions, don’t you?’

‘Yes. I have always believed them, and I always will.’ Cecily took hold of her mother’s hand. ‘She’s proved it to me. She gave us a piece of paper at our wedding. Swann Rules, it said, with the drawing next to it.’

After Cecily left, Alice went out to the garden, carrying her watering can. As she moved around the beds, giving the flowers water, her thoughts remained on the Swanns and Inghams.

Blood. It was her three grandchildren who had the mixed blood: Ingham and Swann. Like Cecily, she sometimes wondered if there really had been other members of the two families who had produced an offspring. Or maybe two. She had no idea.

Only Charlotte Swann Ingham would know that. She had the record books that dated back for centuries, locked up in a safe, a safe now at Cavendon Hall. It was in her dressing room. After telling her this, Charlotte had handed her a sealed envelope, and told her the new code for the safe was inside. ‘Please give it to Cecily and tell her to lock it up,’ Charlotte had then instructed her, and this Alice had done.

Putting the watering can down, lowering herself on to the garden seat, Alice sat for a moment or two looking out towards the moors. It was the end of July on Sunday, the first day of August on Monday. That was when the heather would start to bloom; within a week or two the moors would look like a rolling sea of lavender.

David, Cecily’s first son, had eyes the colour of the moors, the lavender eyes so unique to the Swanns. Otherwise, he was the spitting image of his father, Miles, with his features. Walter had them too, but he had also inherited Cecily’s colouring and her chiselled features. As for five-year-old Venetia, she was a true Ingham through and through, with her golden hair and bright blue eyes. Alice smiled to herself, thinking how much Venetia resembled Lady Dulcie when she had been the same age.

Grandchildren. They were very precious, and she would love to have more. Harry wanted a family. He had said that a few months ago. He would like to be married, he had confided, so he could have a child – several children, in fact.

He had the makings of a good father; there was no doubt in her mind about that. But Pauline Mallard, believed to be forty-eight, was certainly past the child-bearing age. A spurt of anger erupted in Alice. Instantly, she pushed it away. She wasn’t going to dwell on that woman.

Within a few seconds her natural compassion overcame her anxiety about Harry, and her annoyance with him. She suddenly felt a rush of sympathy for her son.




FOUR (#ulink_0c21333a-9658-5232-8e2d-099ab02af9bf)


Greta Chalmers put the receiver down and let her hand rest on it for a moment. She felt as if she had a tight band around her chest and tears brimmed in her green eyes. She swallowed them back and blinked a few times.

She had never heard her father sounding so despairing and morose, and she knew the reason why. He saw no way out of his predicament, no solution to his dilemma. At the end of their conversation he said, ‘I’m trapped. We’re trapped. There’s nothing anybody can do, liebling.’ After telling her he loved her, that they all loved her, he had hung up.

And she loved them: her father, her stepmother, Heddy, her half-sister, Elise, and half-brother, Kurt. They lived in Berlin but, being Jewish, they had now come to realize that they must leave as soon as possible, escape the dangers of the monstrous Third Reich. They wanted to come to England; they knew they had a home with her until they found a place of their own. They had passports but no visas, no travel papers. They were stuck, as her father had just said.

Greta’s mind raced. So many ideas were jostling around for prominence. She glanced at her watch. It was now almost three thirty and Cecily would be coming back into the office at any moment. Taking control of herself as best she could, Greta let go of the phone, sat up straighter, arranged the collar of her cotton dress, and smoothed one hand over her dark brown hair.

Reaching for the last letter she had typed she put it in the folder, reminded herself that she must be composed when Cecily arrived. She knew that Cecily worried about her, and her father’s problems. But so far she had not come up with a solution. No one she knew had, and she did have a number of good friends in London. Her employer had also turned out to be a true friend who had her best interests at heart.

The moment they met Greta and Cecily had ‘clicked’, as Cecily termed it. They had taken to each other at once and had been on an even keel ever since. Never a cross word, never a step out of place on both their parts.

Cecily often joked about their compatibility, the way they were frequently thinking the same thing at the same time. ‘May babies, that’s why,’ Cecily had said after their first year of working together. They were both born in the first week of May, but Cecily was six years older than Greta.

She loved her job as Cecily Swann’s personal assistant, and even though there was a lot of work, her boss worked just as hard as she did. They found satisfaction in their careers, and sometimes Greta shuddered when she remembered how she almost hadn’t gone for the interview at the shop in the Burlington Arcade. Cold feet, timidity perhaps, or even her lack of experience had got in the way for a while. But in the end she had gathered up her courage and gone to meet the famous designer. And she had got the job. She had started working at Cecily Swann Couture the next day.

Following Cecily’s earlier advice, Greta took her small notebook out of her handbag and picked up a pencil. She would make a list, as Cecily had suggested, writing down everything she had to do to make her house ready for her family.

Yesterday, when she had arrived at Cavendon, Cecily had told her to be positive about the future, reassuring her that her family would make it out of Nazi Germany eventually, that she would have to take them in. Greta wanted to do that, and to cherish them.

Many times in the last few years, Greta had wished her husband, Roy, had still been alive. He would have taken care of this situation in no time at all, made short shrift of it. But he was dead and gone. Five years ago now, and he had been far too young to die.

Bending her head, Greta began to make a list of extra things she would have to buy to make her house in Phene Street more comfortable.

‘Here I am!’ Cecily cried, hurrying into Greta’s office. ‘Sorry I’m late when you’ve got your train to catch.’

‘I’ve plenty of time. Goff said we should leave at four thirty for me to get the six o’clock to King’s Cross.’

‘So we can relax for a moment, and have a chat. I’ll sign my letters and go over my appointments with you. What do I have in London on Monday?’

‘There aren’t too many,’ Greta answered. ‘I kept the day light since you’re leaving for Zurich on Tuesday.’

After signing her letters, Cecily looked across at her assistant and said carefully, ‘Did you manage to get hold of your father?’

‘I did, and he sounded a bit down in the dumps, to be honest.’ Greta was surprised her voice was so steady.

Cecily nodded. ‘Of course he did, he’s troubled and frustrated. But look, I’m going to try to help you solve this. And you know what I’m like when I get my teeth into something.’

Despite her worries, Greta laughed. ‘A dog with a bone.’

‘That’s true,’ Cecily answered. ‘When there’s a problem, I have to solve it – and quickly, before it gets out of hand. I need help with this matter, Greta. I’m sure you realize that. I do have someone I can talk to, who might be able to guide me in the right direction.’

Greta simply nodded. She had total faith in her, knew that if anyone could help it was Cecily – this beautiful and talented woman whom she trusted totally.

Cecily was crossing the grand entrance hall at Cavendon a little later, when she heard the sound of music. Instantly she stopped, stood still for a moment listening intently.

The magical sounds were coming from the yellow drawing room and the piano, a recent addition, was being played by Daphne’s daughter, Annabel. No one else could conjure up such miraculous music on the ivory keys the way she did.

The fourteen-year-old had been playing since her childhood. It was her passion and she was superb. Cecily was forever telling Daphne how gifted she was. And good enough to be a concert pianist one day, she always insisted.

Daphne merely smiled serenely, no doubt because she believed the same thing yet did not want to admit it. The lovely Daphne, to whom Cecily was devoted, was far too refined to push her children forward for accolades. But the five of them were talented and very clever. Alicia wanted to be an actress, Charlie a journalist, and the twins intended to join Hugo in the world of finance.

Continuing across the hall, knowing she was yet again running late for afternoon tea, Cecily headed for the drawing room. She opened the door and stood on the threshold, peering in.

She let out a small sigh of relief when she realized she was not the last after all. For once. Aunt Charlotte and the Earl were already there, and so was Lady Gwendolyn. Annabel, of course, was still sitting at the piano, starting a new piece. It was Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’. Obviously Diedre had arrived from London earlier than usual. She sat between Lady Gwen and her son, Robin, who was eleven, and chattering to her, filling her in. As he usually did, he was spending the summer at Cavendon with his cousins.

Her own brood, David, Walter and Venetia, were at the children’s table on the other side of the drawing room. This was an innovation of Charlotte’s, who believed they would enjoy afternoon tea better if they had their own private table. The children had jumped at the idea. There were two empty chairs, obviously for Robin and Annabel.

As she stepped forward, Cecily heard a little shriek of delight. Venetia had spotted her. A small bundle of joy composed of an angelic face, blonde curls and bright blue eyes hurtled towards her, her face wreathed in smiles.

Crouching down, Cecily caught her five-year-old daughter in her arms and hugged her. She whispered, ‘You see, I kept my promise. I’m not the last today.’

Venetia’s blue eyes sparkled with laughter and her face was filling with dimples. She whispered back, ‘Daddy will be last, Mummy. LAST!’

Suppressing her own laughter, Cecily looked at her and shook her head. ‘Maybe not, darling. Where’s Aunt DeLacy? Is she hiding somewhere in the room, do you think?’

Giggling, shaking her head, Venetia whispered, ‘She’ll be the last?’

‘I think so,’ Cecily answered. This was a little game between them. Cecily was generally always the last to arrive for tea, and Miles teased her about it. Her little daughter would protest about his teasing and now Venetia was obviously thrilled to bits that her mother had arrived before her father this afternoon.

Taking hold of Venetia’s hand, Cecily led her into the room, smiling at everyone and greeting them affectionately. Walking over to the children’s table, she kissed her sons, David and Walter, who were grinning at her and nodding their heads. They were also pleased she had made it before Miles; that was very obvious. Cecily was highly amused.

Robin stood up and went to kiss her, then hurried over to the children’s table, followed by Annabel. Cecily bent over and kissed Lady Gwendolyn, and said, ‘How beautiful you look in your purple frock, Great-Aunt. It still suits you.’

‘Thank you, Cecily; I must tell you, it’s several years old. But then you know that.’ Lady Gwendolyn chuckled, went on. ‘I’m very thrifty, and I keep all of the clothes you make for me. It’s a good thing your other clients don’t, or you’d be out of business in no time at all.’

Nodding her agreement, Cecily sat down between Lady Gwen and Diedre. She turned to Diedre, said sotto voce, ‘Can I speak to you later? It’s a work thing.’

Diedre merely nodded her agreement.

Looking across the room at her, the Earl said warmly, ‘Thank you, Ceci, for allowing Greta to do those few letters for me this morning. It was a great help.’

Greta often lent a hand and had a particular rapport with Diedre and Robin, whom she’d helped get through the terrible months after the death of Paul Drummond, Diedre’s husband and Robin’s father.

‘It wasn’t a problem: she was happy to help out.’

Charles Ingham gazed at his daughter-in-law, a loving expression in his eyes. He treated her like one of his own daughters these days, and he admired her tremendously. ‘I feel sorry for Greta. She worries so much about her family, and feels helpless to do anything. Has she heard from her father lately?’

‘As a matter of fact, she spoke to him today. Professor Steinbrenner believes they are stuck in Berlin for the moment.’

The Earl’s face was serious when he began, ‘Things are bad in Europe. And we—’

Charlotte interrupted him swiftly. In a low voice, she murmured, ‘Let’s not discuss Europe and what’s going on … in front of the children.’ She had just noticed that David and Robin were listening intently to their grandfather’s conversation. ‘Little pigs have big ears,’ she finished in a low tone.

Before Charles could make a response, the door flew open and DeLacy came into the room in a rush, looking flushed and out of breath.

‘Hello, everyone!’ she exclaimed, and went immediately to her father and Charlotte, kissing them both. Hurrying across the floor, she went over to Lady Gwendolyn and, sitting down next to her, squeezed her hand, leaned in and kissed her cheek. ‘You asked me for news of Dulcie and James when you phoned me at the gallery the other day. I’m happy to tell you I received a letter from Dulcie this morning—’

‘Sorry, Charlotte, sorry Papa for being late. Couldn’t avoid it. I had to take an important phone call,’ Miles announced, entering the room on the heels of DeLacy.

‘It’s not a problem, Miles,’ the Earl said.

‘You’re forgiven,’ Charlotte added, her voice warm and welcoming. He had always been a favourite of hers.

‘You’re late, you’re late, you’re late,’ sang a chorus of young voices, all sounding very gleeful indeed.

Venetia began to giggle, and so did Cecily, and just at that moment the door opened and Hanson strode in, looking purposeful.

Focusing on Lord Mowbray, he asked, ‘Shall we serve tea, my lord?’

‘Yes, please do so, Hanson. Now that everyone has arrived.’

Inclining his head, Hanson turned on his heel, beckoned Gordon Lane, the under butler, to come in with the largest tea trolley, filled with a silver tea service, cups, saucers and plates. Gordon was followed by two of the maids, also pushing trolleys laden with tea sandwiches, scones, strawberry jam and Cornish cream. There was a cream cake and a variety of delectable pastries.

Cups were filled, plates of sandwiches were passed around, and once again afternoon tea was served in the same way it had been for years. It was a ritual everyone enjoyed. Once the staff had moved the trolleys to the back of the yellow drawing room, and everyone had settled, Lady Gwendolyn spoke out. ‘Now come along, DeLacy, do give us the news from Hollywood USA.’

‘I will indeed,’ DeLacy answered, putting her cup in its saucer. ‘Dulcie and James are well, as are the twins, Rosalind and Juliet, and little Henry. In fact, the children are flourishing. James is halfway through his new movie and enjoying working at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. However, Dulcie and James want to come back to England.’ DeLacy paused and gave Great-Aunt Gwendolyn a pointed look. Her eyes went to her father, Charlotte and her sister Diedre.

Lady Gwendolyn said, ‘I believe we know the reason. A true-blue Englishman like James must feel it’s his duty to be on these shores at this particular and dangerous moment in history. And, knowing Dulcie, I’m quite certain she feels exactly the same way.’

‘Oh, no question about that,’ Charles said, then glancing at Charlotte he asked, ‘Don’t you agree?’

‘I do indeed. And you know that Dulcie’s an Englishwoman down to her toes.’

Miles, jumping into the conversation, exclaimed, ‘I suppose they’ll leave California when he finishes the picture.’

‘Hopefully, yes,’ DeLacy answered her brother. ‘However, according to Dulcie, there might be a problem. James has a big contract with MGM. Apparently Louis B. Mayer, who runs the company, is a great fan of his; signing James was a coup for him. Dulcie thinks he might not want to release James from the contract.’

‘Because he has other films to make, I suspect,’ Diedre asserted. ‘A signed contract is very binding, as you well know. Not only that, James is a big money-earner for MGM. Of course they won’t want to let him go.’

Cecily interjected, ‘But everything’s negotiable. I’m sure there is a way around the problem, should one develop.’ Glancing at DeLacy, she smiled at her dearest friend. ‘What about Felix and Constance? I thought they were in America at the moment, DeLacy.’

‘Yes, in New York. They’ll be going out to Los Angeles next week. Dulcie’s praying Felix will be able to handle Mr Louis B. Mayer.’

Staring at DeLacy curiously, Miles asked, ‘Why do you refer to him by his full name? It sounds so odd.’

DeLacy laughed. ‘It does, doesn’t it? But that’s how Dulcie refers to him in her letters, and I guess I just picked up on it, repeated her words.’

‘I am perfectly certain Felix Lambert is quite a crafty fox, and Constance as well,’ Diedre said. ‘That’s why James trusts them to represent him. Leave it to them. They’ll come up with something. After all, they are professionals. I’ve discovered it’s always a good idea to leave it to the pros.’

Cecily nodded. ‘I couldn’t agree more. And, from my experience with him, Felix is bound to pull something out of the hat.’

DeLacy nodded. She then addressed her father. ‘You’ll be very pleased to know Dulcie is thrilled with the way I’ve been running her art gallery. Especially since we’ve been making huge profits, and especially this year. It should make you happy as well, Papa. You’ll be getting quite a large cheque from the gallery for the Cavendon Restoration Fund.’

‘I am delighted, DeLacy. Well done, darling,’ her father said.

‘I say, that’s great news, old thing,’ Miles exclaimed. Rising, he went over to his sister, leaned over and hugged her. ‘And it’s true, you have been doing a fabulous job.’

DeLacy smiled up at him. ‘Thanks to you. You’re the one who has trained me how to run a business. And so has Ceci.’

Miles half smiled, and went over to the children’s table. Before he could say a word, a little chant started. ‘Late, late, late. Late, late, late.’

He ruffled Walter’s hair, who was the leader of this choir. ‘You’re all little rascals. Very naughty boys, don’t you know?’

‘Am I a naughty girl?’ Venetia asked, staring at her father, her eyes dancing.

Walking around the table, standing next to her chair, he said softly, ‘I suppose you are. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Venetia.’ He smoothed his hand over her white-blonde hair. ‘And you are definitely my favourite daughter.’

‘Oh Daddy, don’t be silly. There’s only me.’

‘I sometimes feel there are quite a few of you lurking around.’




FIVE (#ulink_f26fd58e-1b8b-53e2-b5b4-adb7464670d3)


The arrangement they had made was to meet in the conservatory just before dinner, but Diedre was not there when Cecily arrived. Walking across the terracotta floor, she went over to the French doors, stood looking out at the moors rolling towards the North Sea, admiring the view. It was familiar, but never failed to please her.

Twilight had descended and the sky was already growing darker. It was a deeper blue and the far horizon was streaked with a mixture of colours: lavender and apricot, and a deep pink bleeding into red.

Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight, red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning. These words ran through her head as she remembered how often her mother had said them to her when she was a child.

Turning away from the window, Cecily strolled over to the desk, ran one hand across the mellow old wood, and lovingly so. How often she had stood here, talking to Daphne, who had made it her desk, having commandeered it when she was seventeen and facing terrible problems in her young life.

The conservatory had soon become Daphne’s private place, her haven. None of the family ever used it, and so she had taken it for herself.

From here she had planned her marriage to Hugo, a joyful event, and later it had become her command post.

After a moment longer, lingering near the desk, she walked across to a wicker chair, part of a grouping, and sat down. Her thoughts turned to Diedre. Cecily knew that the best person to talk to about Greta’s family and their predicament was Diedre. In 1914 she had gone to work at the War Office and had remained there after the Great War had ended. Only when she became engaged to Paul Drummond did she resign.

Cecily knew how grief-stricken she had been when Paul had unexpectedly, and very suddenly, died; she had helped her as best she could through that devastating first year of widowhood. One day, quite unexpectedly, Diedre had confided she was returning to her old position at the War Office. She had explained that work would ease her grief and loneliness. Also, she had explained, there was going to be a war, a very bad war, and she would be needed.

Although Diedre had never discussed her job at the War Office, Cecily was quite positive she worked in Intelligence, and Miles agreed with her. Therefore, if anyone knew how to extract someone from a foreign country, she was sure it was Diedre.

Cecily’s thoughts now turned to Greta. She had grown very attached to her and cared about her, worried about her wellbeing. Her assistant was extremely sincere, had enormous integrity, and was a hard worker; certainly Cecily had grown to depend on her. She had great insight into people, especially those who were meaningful to her; Cecily knew how much Greta was suffering because of the situation that existed in Berlin.

Greta’s father was a well-known professor of philosophy. He had studied Greats at Oxford years ago, and become an expert on Plato. In fact, he ranked as one of the greatest professors in his field. Greta adored him. She was fond of her stepmother, Heddy. As for her two half-siblings, Kurt and Elise, they were almost like her own children, and she worried about them constantly. Cecily hated to see her suffer and was mortified that she herself could do nothing to help. Leaning back in the wicker chair, Cecily closed her eyes, her mind whirling.

The sharp click of high heels on stone brought Cecily up sharply in her chair. Diedre strode into the conservatory, looking elegant in a navy-blue silk dress, which Cecily had made for her.

It was cut on the cross and made Diedre look taller and even svelter than ever. But then, Diedre had long been known for her chic fashion sense, spending much of her time in London.

‘You always make my clothes look so much better,’ Cecily exclaimed, her face filled with smiles.

Diedre laughed. ‘Thank you for the lovely compliment, but it is the dress, you know that. And it’s become my favourite.’ Diedre sat down in a chair, and said, ‘You sounded anxious earlier. So let’s talk. What’s wrong?’ Like Great-Aunt Gwendolyn, Diedre got straight to the point.

‘Greta’s family is Jewish. They need to get out of Germany. I would like to help her if I can. But I need advice. Your advice, actually.’

When she heard these words, Diedre stiffened in the chair. She shook her head vehemently. ‘That’s a tough one. Hard. And there’s no advice I can give you, Ceci.’

‘Her father, stepmother and their two children don’t have the proper travel documents apparently. They’re at their wits’ end,’ Cecily said, and fell silent when she became aware of the look of dismay on Diedre’s face, the fear in her eyes.

Diedre, who was acutely observant, understood people, knew what made them tick, was aware Cecily was being genuine and sincere about wanting to help Greta. Yet she was unaware how hard a task that would be. Not wishing to be too quickly dismissive, Diedre now said, ‘You told me a bit about Greta, when she first came to work for you. Please fill me in again. I’ve forgotten most of what you told me.’

‘Greta is German by birth, like her father. But her mother, who died when she was a child, was English. Her name was Antonia Nolan. After her mother’s untimely death, her father sent her to live with her grandmother, Catherine Nolan, who’s still alive, by the way, and lives in Hampstead. It was she who brought Greta up.’

‘Now it’s all coming back to me,’ Diedre murmured. ‘She went to Oxford, didn’t she?’

‘Yes, following in her father’s footsteps. Eventually, her father remarried, but Greta stayed on in London, preferring her life here.’

Diedre nodded. ‘And I remember something else. Greta married an Englishman, an architect.’

‘That’s right, Roy Chalmers. Sadly he died of leukaemia about five years ago now.’

‘Just out of curiosity, is Greta a British citizen? It occurs to me that with an English mother and an English husband, she must have become one. Didn’t she?’

‘Yes, and she has a British passport.’

‘I’m glad to hear it, and that passport is important here, a necessity in wartime. It won’t help her family in any way, but I’m relieved to know she can’t be interned, anything like that.’

‘She could be if she were a German? Is that what you’re saying, Diedre?’

‘I am.’

‘Well, she’s all right, protected by her English nationality. Still, she has been talking about going to Berlin to check up on her father, assess the situation,’ Cecily murmured.

‘She mustn’t go! No, no, that’s dangerous.’

‘Perhaps I could go instead. What do you think?’

‘Absolutely not. I won’t let you. There’s something else … her father might well be under scrutiny. He’s a famous man, could easily be on a list of troublemakers, so called. Being watched and not knowing it.’

‘She’ll be very upset if that’s true,’ Ceci exclaimed.

‘Don’t tell her what I said. She must not know. And she certainly cannot go to Berlin.’ Diedre sounded stern as she continued. ‘Look, I’m sorry to be negative, but the situation in Berlin is worse than you can possibly know, or even imagine. It’s dangerous – full of thugs, foreigners and Nazis, a sinister city. No one is safe.’

Cecily nodded. ‘I understand. And I do make a point of listening to you. You’re the one who knows what’s going on there better than anyone else I know.’

‘A few months ago a new rule was made. Jews were forced to go and have their passports stamped with the letter “J” for Jew.’ Diedre said this quietly.

Cecily gaped at her, aghast. ‘What a hideous rule!’

‘Yes it is. Everything they do is hideous. No, horrific.’ Diedre leaned forward, coming closer to her sister-in-law, went on in a lower voice, ‘Hitler was made Chancellor of Germany in January of 1933, and only seven months later he built the first concentration camp. It’s called Dachau.’

‘Jews are interned in the camp. Is that its purpose?’

‘That’s right, it is. And so are others … Catholics, and dissident politicians, and anyone who doesn’t agree with the Nazi credo. Anti-Semitism is rife. Hatreds fester. Violence is paramount. And people are arrested for no reason at all.’ Diedre gave Cecily a long hard stare. ‘Hitler became a virtual dictator in January of 1933 and he means to swallow up as much of Central Europe as he can.’

‘Why? Power? Does he want to rule the world?’

‘Yes. But he also wants land, the blessed space, to breed his perfect race of Aryans. Lebensraum … that’s what he calls it … this dream of land, on which to create a master race.’

Cecily was pale, and her eyes were fastened on Diedre. ‘I don’t frighten easily, but what you’re telling me does make me worried,’ Cecily confided softly.

‘Worry if you want, Cecily, but don’t be afraid. We must all be brave and strong. And we must make sure not to have our necks under the German jackboot. That would be disastrous.’

Diedre paused. ‘Look, Ceci, please don’t repeat any of this to the family. I shouldn’t really have told you. I trust in your confidentiality and your loyalty to me.’

‘You know you can trust me. But could I tell Miles?’

‘Yes, you can. However, he must be discreet as well. No chitchatting with Charlotte and Papa. You must insist on that.’

‘I will.’ There was a slight hesitation before Cecily went on, ‘Yours is an office job, isn’t it? I mean, you’re not out there, are you? Out there doing … things?’

‘No, I’m not. I’m … well, let’s say I’m in management. Nevertheless, I have my own rules and I do not forget them.’

‘What are they? Can you tell me, Diedre?’

‘Believe no one. Tell no one. Remember everything. Walk alone.’




SIX (#ulink_c5af1162-1396-5a75-9f4d-c7c795c059a3)


Instinctively Harry Swann knew that something was wrong. Pauline had not been herself since his arrival at four o’clock, ostensibly for tea. They did actually have tea in her elegant drawing room. But it was swift. She was anxious always to retreat to her bedroom for several hours of intimacy and extraordinary passion.

Now, as he lay next to her in bed, their sexual appetite for each other sated, he tried to figure out why she had been so strange. Not remote, not distant, as she often was, rather she had been distracted. Or perhaps ‘preoccupied’ was a better word. Certainly he had picked up on it the moment he had entered her house and when she had greeted him coolly in the entrance foyer.

Even when they first began to make love, she had been less fervent than usual; but once he had begun to arouse her in the way she liked, she had become more focused. She was a voluptuous woman, extremely erotic and sensuous, eager for sex, hungry for it, and she oozed feminine lust. Her craving for him was enormous and endless; she gave herself willingly to him, did anything he wanted. It had been this way since the beginning of their affair and they never failed to give each other enormous sexual pleasure.

They had done that this afternoon but, instead of lingering in his arms, touching him, stroking him, murmuring loving words, she had moved on to her side at once, her back to him.

Puzzled and slightly hurt, he finally spoke. ‘What’s wrong, darling? You’ve turned away from me, and you’re very silent. Usually you’re full of love for me … after we’ve devoured each other. And we certainly did that a short while ago.’

There was a moment of silence before she said, ‘I’ve misled you … and I’m feeling guilty.’

Pushing himself up on one elbow, Harry brought her face around and looked down at her. ‘Guilty in what way?’

‘I let you think Sheldon was coming home tomorrow. He phoned at lunchtime today. He said he’d be here for dinner tonight. You’ve got to leave; you can’t linger as you generally do.’

Genuinely taken aback, Harry gaped at her for a moment, then got up and hurried across the room, making for the chair where his clothes were laid.

Pauline leapt off the bed and rushed after him, put her arms around him and pressed herself close to his body. ‘I can’t bear for you to leave like this. We always make love again before you leave. Always. Let’s do it now, here, standing up. Come on, I’ll lean against the door.’ She reached up, pulled his face down to hers and kissed him passionately. He responded; he never failed to do so with her. He felt himself growing hard but, just as he was about to succumb to her red-hot desire for him, his common sense kicked in.

‘No, no, we can’t. It’s too risky,’ he said firmly, glancing at his watch. ‘It’s almost six fifteen. Sheldon could be here any moment and we’d be caught red-handed.’

Pauline shook her head. ‘No, he won’t make it before seven, I’m certain of that.’ She leaned against the door, staring at him, her desire running high. She was hot with longing for him, had never wanted anyone like this, never loved any other man before him. And she knew she could not have him. Unexpected tears welled and she moved back and into his arms so he would not see them.

But he had. He held her tightly, stroked her long auburn hair. ‘Why are you crying?’

‘Because you’re angry with me … because I didn’t tell you he was coming home tonight,’ she lied. ‘Say you forgive me, Harry. Please.’

He looked down at her and smiled, touched her face with tenderness. ‘There’s nothing to forgive, my Pauline, my dearest love. I was startled, that’s all, not angry, never with you.’

Reaching for his clothes, Harry rushed over to her bathroom.

Pauline stood watching him moving across the bedroom, struck yet again by the beauty of his lithe body, and the tears came back, rolled down her cheeks. Slipping into her dressing room, she closed the door, stood for a moment wiping away her tears. Then she picked up a towel, placed it on the padded stool before sitting down.

They had made love several times this afternoon and she was full of him. He might have made her pregnant. She hoped so. But she was forty-eight. Too late, wasn’t it? She breathed deeply. The scent of his cologne, Jicky, and the smell of him was all over her.

She reached for a bottle of perfume, was about to spray herself, but changed her mind. She wanted his smell on her. There was a knock on the door and she went to open it.

Harry stood there, gazing at her. A slow smile slid across his face. ‘You look beautiful.’ He took hold of her arm, tightened his grip and brought her closer. ‘You’d better get dressed,’ he said, and asked, ‘Will you be alone next week?’

‘I suppose so.’ She touched his face gently. ‘I’ll phone you as soon as I can.’

Harry nodded and let go of her arm. And he was gone.

Pauline turned away from the door, dressed swiftly, attended to her hair and makeup. Usually she bathed after their love-making but not today. She wanted his seed in her, wanted his baby, yearned to have part of him for the rest of her life. A son or a daughter. It didn’t matter as long as it was his.

Pauline Mallard went downstairs to wait for Sheldon Faircross, her husband, knowing he would be arriving shortly. Crossing the floor of the library, she went to the drinks table and filled a glass with sherry. She stood for a moment, staring down into the pale liquid, her mind still on Harry Swann.

In some ways she regretted meeting him and having an affair with him, because he had, in a sense, ruined her life. She had fallen in love for the first time. That was verboten. And now she knew she would have to let him go. A divorce and remarriage was not in the cards. Harry could never be hers. She was in a trap.

When she had married Sheldon fifteen years ago, she had agreed to play by his rules. He would sort out the mess of her finances, created by her first two husbands. Both of them had spent a great deal of her inheritance from her father, the late Allan Mallard, one of America’s greatest tycoons.

With Sheldon’s help, her financial affairs were in better order, but she was not quite the great heiress she had once been. Nevertheless, she was by no means poor. And neither was Sheldon; he was a millionaire many times over.

Sheldon’s rules were very simple. A self-made man, he wanted the prestige of her name, her beauty and elegance, on his arm and at the head of his dinner table. He also demanded her total loyalty.

However, because he had no interest in her sexually, preferring young men, he had told her she could have her love affairs as long as she was discreet. Also, he had made her swear she would never reveal his own sexual predilection.

She had willingly agreed at the time. Not only did she have her own money intact again, she had the legitimacy of marriage to a well-known tycoon, a wonder on Wall Street, but also Sheldon’s great fortune to spend as she wished. And permission to have as many affairs as she wanted. Sheldon had made it clear that her dalliances with other men must be only sexual. No emotional entanglements, he had insisted. And until Harry, it had all worked. Now she wanted to marry Harry, be his wife, have his baby. And have Harry all to herself. He was the best lover she had ever had. And a lovely man.

Still staring into the sherry, she thought: I could walk away from Sheldon. He manages my money and has control of it. But money doesn’t matter to me. Harry will look after me.

Bringing the glass to her mouth, she swigged some of the sherry, and reminded herself that the money did matter to her. She had been born into it, enjoyed spending it, and she would miss it. If she were honest, she would also miss her life on the international scene. Harry would never enjoy that life; he might well be genuinely besotted with her, but he was devoted to Cavendon and the Inghams.

No way out, she thought, I’m stuck. And then she swung around as Sheldon said, ‘Good evening, Pauline. I see you’re alone.’

‘Hello, Sheldon, and naturally I’m alone.’

‘Harry’s just left though. I’m certain of that.’

Pauline merely nodded and walked over to the fireplace. Sheldon joined her, kissed her cheek. He went and poured himself a single malt and strolled across the room.

‘The affair must have run its course by now,’ Sheldon said, joining her on the sofa.

‘I suppose …’ was all she could say.

‘Harry has no doubt fallen in love with you. They all do, actually. But how do you feel about Harry?’

‘He’s been gentlemanly, caring. He’s a nice man.’

‘And great in the sack, I’ve no doubt. He wouldn’t have lasted this long with you if he hadn’t been hot to trot whenever you beckoned.’ Sheldon laughed.

Pauline was silent. She hated Sheldon’s weird outbursts of vulgarity and discussions about her affairs. She had frequently thought that he might get some sort of kick out of discussing them. In the way some men enjoy voyeurism.

When there was no response, Sheldon said, ‘I spoke to Tiger this morning. She’s invited us to stay with her at the château in Versailles. She’s giving a big summer party. We’re invited. And I accepted for us both.’

Pauline was momentarily startled, then said swiftly, ‘That’s great, Sheldon. She’s such a marvellous hostess.’

‘And she has great taste. In other guests. There’ll be a lovely group of delectable men and women staying for the long weekend.’

‘I see,’ Pauline murmured, realizing what he was getting at. After a brief pause, she asked, ‘How’s your Italian lover?’

Sheldon grinned at her. ‘He’s run his course. I’ve sent him back to Italy. I’m fancy-free, my darling, just like you.’

‘Am I fancy-free?’ Pauline raised a brow quizzically.

‘Of course. Harry has to go now, Pauline. It’s been too long, this affair, and it’s becoming serious. Remember, we have a deal, you’ll always be married to me, and I’ll safeguard your money, and you can have as many men as you want. Just think, Tiger is bound to have someone delicious lined up for you.’

Swallowing back incipient tears, Pauline said, ‘When is this party in Versailles? And are we going to Paris first?’

‘We’re leaving Harrogate on Sunday. We’ll go back to London for a few days. Paris next weekend, then on to Versailles.’

‘Good heavens, Sheldon, I can’t leave on Sunday. You’re only giving me tomorrow to pack!’

‘All you need is your jewellery and a few clothes. Mrs Heath will send on everything else. It doesn’t matter, really, because I intend to take you shopping to Chanel and Schiaparelli. I also have in mind a few new pieces of jewellery from Cartier as well.’

She nodded, forced a smile. ‘What great ideas you have, Sheldon,’ Pauline remarked, understanding that he was taking her away from Harrogate before she could see Harry again. Today was the end of their affair. Sheldon had just made sure of that.

As she sat there, listening to him talking about their Paris trip, she suddenly heard another voice at the back of her head. It was her late father, Allan Mallard, explaining that he never did anything without a lawyer at his side. A bevy of lawyers, if needs be. He had said that so many times. Warning her, she supposed.

I need a lawyer, maybe a bevy of lawyers, she thought. High-powered, Manhattan lawyers, with clout. They will help me to take back control of my life. My inheritance. A divorce from Sheldon. Then I can go to Harry. We can be married. The mere idea of this made her smile.

Sheldon, as usual scrutinizing her intently, said, ‘You look happy all of a sudden, Pauline. Why the smile?’

‘I was just thinking about the future …’ She let the sentence go unfinished, leaning back against the cushions.

‘Ah yes. Our trip to Versailles will be part of that. Tiger has promised us lots of fun.’

Pauline nodded, her mind racing, making plans to go to New York. She would not allow Sheldon to thwart her. He was about to get the shock of his life. Yet another happy smile spread across her face as she thought of Harry Swann and their future together.




SEVEN (#ulink_8fbb00d8-3992-53d1-ab9c-959dfc92cc1c)


Harry had left Harrogate behind and was driving north, heading for Cavendon, filled with relief that Pauline had revealed why she had acted so oddly this afternoon.

He chuckled to himself. How well she knew him after only a few months. If she had told him when he had arrived this afternoon that her husband was on his way back to Yorkshire, he would have left immediately. She had not wanted to forgo their tryst and so had kept it from him.

Pauline Mallard. What a unique woman she was. Stunningly beautiful, with her luxuriant dark auburn hair, pure white skin and amber-coloured eyes. She had a flair for clothes, and the money to buy the best, and consequently everyone stared at her wherever she went. She caused quite a stir. Women envied her looks; men undoubtedly lusted after her.

He loved her, was devoted to her, and if she finally agreed to divorce Sheldon Faircross, he would marry her at once. Not only were they well matched sexually, he enjoyed her company, found her extremely intelligent. Also, she was knowledgeable about so many things. She was a wonderful companion. And she made him laugh with her quirky sense of humour.

As he drove on he thought of a conversation he had had with his mother recently. To his surprise he had found himself confessing that he wanted to get married because he wanted children. Not one, or two, but lots.

How he envied Miles and Cecily with their little brood, and Daphne and Hugo with their five marvellous offspring.

That’s what life was all about, wasn’t it? Marrying a special woman and creating a wonderful family; a family to love and protect and cherish.

Harry winced as he remembered his mother’s comment after he had confided his wish for children. She had told him in a cold voice that his current lady-love was far too old for child-bearing; she had added that his secret love affair was about to go public.

When he had tried to explain his feelings for Pauline, his mother had shushed him up and terminated their conversation.

But he was well aware why Cecily wanted to talk to him. She was going to chastise him and tell him to end his relationship with a woman who was married. His sister disapproved, and there was no doubt his mother had egged Cecily on to have a confrontation with him.

Pauline must leave her husband, that’s the only way to go, Harry decided, as he turned off the main road and on to Cavendon land.

And as always when he came back here, even after only a few hours, he felt a rush of happiness, contentment and a sense of belonging. This land was home … this land he tended and protected with love in his heart. This was where he belonged.

Harry never saw the girl on the bicycle who was racing down the lane on the left side of Cavendon Road, heading for Little Skell village. He was only aware he had hit her when he heard the crunching sound, a high-pitched scream, saw a pair of bare legs in the air, and then felt a thud.

Pulling on the brake at once, Harry jumped out of the car filled with alarm. He saw the bent front wheel of the bicycle on the ground, but there was no sign of the girl. He looked to his left, then his right, and was baffled.

A moment later, a girl’s voice cried, ‘I’m here in the ditch. Can you help me please?’ He ran across the road and up on to the grass verge, as a mop of curly red hair appeared on the edge of the ditch. The girl was pulling herself up, holding on to tufts of grass and weeds.

Thank God she’s not dead, Harry thought. He knelt down on the grass, offered his outstretched hands. She took hold of one of them, and then the other. He pulled her up, and a moment later she was crouching next to him, panting heavily.

Harry looked at her, his eyes scanning her swiftly. ‘Are you injured? Does anything hurt?’ he asked worriedly, concerned about her.

‘I don’t think anything is broken,’ she answered frowning. ‘I do feel a bit shaken up, though.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ he answered. ‘I’m so sorry I hit you. I didn’t see you coming down the side lane, I’m afraid. Perhaps I ought to drive you to the hospital in Harrogate and have you checked for injuries.’

The girl shook her head vehemently. ‘No, no, I’m perfectly all right, but thank you.’

Harry said, somewhat insistently, ‘I do think you should see a doctor. You could have internal injuries. Yes, I’d better get you to a doctor.’

The girl burst out laughing, and shook her head again. ‘I’d know if something was damaged. Honestly I would. My brothers say I’m a tough bit of stuff.’ She half smiled, and went on, ‘I must apologize. I was riding my bike far too fast. So sorry about that.’

Harry nodded, and said, ‘If you’re certain you’re all right, I won’t insist on a trip to the hospital.’

‘I am sure.’ The girl straightened her colourful floral frock, pulled up her white socks, then brushed her hands over the cotton frock. ‘Not even the dress is damaged,’ she announced, her eyes twinkling. Thrusting out her right hand, she said, ‘Thank you for hauling me out of the ditch. I’m Phoebe Bellamy, by the way.’

‘Harry Swann,’ he answered, smiling at her, taken with her girlishness, her friendly manner. She had a pretty face covered with freckles and hazel eyes. He thought she was about twelve years old, and he had no idea who she was. He wondered why she was on Cavendon land.

Giving him a surprised stare, Phoebe cried excitedly, ‘Are you one of the famous Swanns of Cavendon? You’re not related to Cecily Swann, the Fashion Queen of the World, are you?’

Chuckling at this description of Cecily, he answered, ‘She’s my sister.’

‘Oh gosh! Oh wow! Oh my goodness me! What an honour to meet you, Mr Swann.’

Harry was amused by her undisguised enthusiasm. He said, ‘And so you are Phoebe Bellamy. Nice to meet you, and I’m truly sorry it was in such an unfortunate way. Now, where does Miss Phoebe Bellamy live? It must be somewhere close.’

‘It is, Mr Swann. I’m staying with my uncle, Commander Jollion.’

‘I know him well, and his son, Noel, who must be your cousin.’

‘He is. We’re all staying with Uncle Edgar for the whole summer.’

Harry got up off the grass and offered Phoebe his hand, pulling her to her feet. ‘Let’s see how well you can walk, and let’s hope all is in order. If nothing’s hurting I shall drive you back to Burnside Manor.’

Together Harry and Phoebe crossed the road to the car. He eyed her carefully as they walked and saw that she seemed perfectly normal.

They both stopped when they came to the broken bicycle. Looking down at it, Phoebe said, ‘Oh gosh! What shall I do with the bike?’

‘I’ll put it on the grass verge over there,’ Harry replied. Picking it up, he did so. ‘I’ll send someone for it tomorrow morning. Perhaps we can repair it for you. We have a workshop.’

‘Oh, how nice of you. Thank you, Mr Swann. I’m so sorry I’m causing you so much trouble. Listen, I’m fine. I can walk back to Mowbray.’

‘No, you’re not going to do that. I shall drive you to the manor and explain to Commander Jollion exactly what happened.’

‘That’s not really necessary, the telling part,’ Phoebe protested, sounding alarmed.

‘I shall take the blame,’ Harry insisted. ‘Now, please get into the car, Phoebe.’




EIGHT (#ulink_9a93ddaf-4aa0-5a0c-8cec-92da97eda1f2)


Diedre had not slept well. She had spent a restless night, her mind working overtime, so many thoughts spinning around in her head.

For once she had not been worrying about her father and his health. For the last few weekends he had been almost like his old self: much more vigorous, in good form, with his humour restored. She was aware that she shouldn’t ever worry about him. Charlotte loved him and looked after him with great care and diligence. They all owed her a lot.

It had been the favour for Cecily that had occupied her thoughts most of the night – and Greta Chalmers; in particular Greta’s predicament.

With her years of experience in British Intelligence, Diedre knew there were many different ways to get visas and travel documents, and other means by which to extract people from Germany. The problem with the Steinbrenners was that hideous ‘J’ for Jew stamped on their passports. Four brand-new passports would be difficult to obtain. It was the same with visas and travel documents. Four were just too many; even two would be hard to come by. Acquiring one might be impossible, in fact.

She had two contacts who might be able to help. The one she had asked several favours from was the most powerful. He was in the High Command of the Third Reich, and she knew he would do anything for her, if it was at all possible. Yet she was reluctant to ask him. They had been friends for several years; she admired and respected him as a dear friend. She did not want to go to him yet again. And so soon.

Sitting up in bed, blinking in the pale dawn light coming in through the draperies, Diedre bunched the pillows up behind her head, lay back and concentrated on her other contact.

The second one she had to dismiss immediately as well, because he was linked to her first contact. He was also in a powerful position in the High Command, and might easily bring his superior down if caught. She dismissed him as well. Also, he would be more useful in other areas.

It struck her that her own man in Berlin was the best to use. He was young but thought fast on his feet, and had a lot of experience. Also she could telephone him with a degree of impunity.

That was one of her main considerations these days. She had known for several years that telephones were monitored in Germany, and especially foreign phone calls. Undoubtedly the British Embassy in Berlin was not immune; she believed the Gestapo listened in, but she and her man there had their own language, which would be Double Dutch to anyone else.

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was almost six. The household was still sleeping. Jumping out of bed, Diedre went into her bathroom, washed her hands and face, brushed her teeth and combed her hair. Back in her bedroom, she slipped on a silk dressing gown, stepped into her slippers and went downstairs.

Silence reigned. No one was moving about, nothing stirred. No sound except for the ticking of the hall clock. It was just a little too early for Hanson, the footmen, and the maids. But in half an hour the housekeeper would be on duty, and they would all be bustling around preparing for breakfast, and Cook would be in the kitchen, getting an early start.

It was cool and quiet in the library. Diedre sat down at her father’s desk, and leaned back in his big leather chair, thinking for a few minutes. His desk calendar was right in front of her. She stared at it. Oh God, it’s Saturday, she muttered under her breath. Saturday the thirtieth of July. Damn, she thought, then, making a swift decision, she picked up the receiver and dialled the overseas operator and gave her the number in Berlin she wanted.

‘Hallo?’ a man’s voice answered gruffly on the fourth ring.

‘Is Toby Jung still staying there?’

‘Is this his Daffy Dilly?’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘What a pleasure to hear your voice, Daffy. What’s up?’

‘I left a suitcase with you the last time I visited, Toby. I wondered if you knew anyone who might be coming this way and would bring it for me. I’d pay them.’

‘I’ll ask around. What else is new?’

‘Not a lot. How is it in Berlin? I have a friend who might be visiting; she’s asked me about the weather.’

‘Hot as hell. Not a breath of fresh air. The city stinks. We’re all sweating. We need a good wind blowing through.’

‘Weather changes all the time, Toby.’

‘I know that, angel face. About the suitcase. Is it heavy?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Could one person carry it?’

‘I don’t think so. It needs another person, maybe two more. But they have porters at railway stations, you know, and I’ll provide the gratuities.’

‘I’ll see what I can do. Where are you right now?’

‘Looking at the heather.’

‘For how long?’

‘Two days. Why?’

‘Just needed to know. I’ll get back to you. Next week. At the old place? Will you be there?’

‘I will. Thanks, Toby.’

‘Big kiss, angel face,’ he said and hung up.

Diedre put the receiver back in the cradle and leaned back in the chair. If someone had been listening in, they wouldn’t have understood much. But Toby now knew she wanted to get people out. They always spoke in their own code. His message to her had been about conditions in Berlin, relayed through comments about the weather. All she had to do now was wait and see what he could do, if anything.

Hearing her name being called, Cecily turned her head to the left and saw her brother waving to her. He was walking down the stable block, wearing his riding clothes. He always did on Saturdays because he rode around the estate checking everything out on the Ingham land.

She smiled when he stopped next to her, kissed her on her cheek. ‘You look positively radiant this morning, Ceci,’ he said.

‘Flattery will get you everywhere, as you well know, Harry,’ she answered with a slight laugh, and added, ‘And you don’t look half bad yourself. Have you done your rounds yet?’

‘No. I wanted to see you first. Let’s go down to the gazebo where it’s cool, shall we?’

‘And also very private,’ Cecily pointed out, falling in step with him.

He glanced at her. ‘True. Point well taken. But my office was rather warm this morning … it’s all this July sun.’

‘I’m not going to chastise you or anything like that, you know. You’re a grown man and have every right to lead your life as you see fit. I just wanted to have a little chat, mostly because of Mam.’

Harry exclaimed, ‘She’s not ill or anything like that, is she?’

‘No, of course not, but she is concerned about you.’

‘I know,’ was all he said.

They walked on in silence, lost in their own thoughts. After a while it was Cecily who spoke first. ‘I want to thank you for helping Walter with his riding, Harry. He’s always been a bit frightened of horses, as you well know, and you’ve managed to banish that fear. He loves his riding lessons with you.’

‘And the horse I bought him. She’s a gentle little filly and he’s making wonderful progress. I’m rather proud of him.’

‘He told me yesterday that he’s catching up with David, and that soon he’ll ride better than his big brother.’

Harry chuckled. ‘I think he’s on the right track. By the way, I had a weird experience last night. I knocked a girl off her bicycle.’

Startled, Cecily stared up at him, frowning. ‘A bicycle? Where? Not here on the estate, surely?’

‘Yes, it was. She came hurtling down the main Cavendon Road leading into the village. I didn’t see her.’ He told Cecily the story without any embellishment, and finished, ‘She turned out to be Phoebe Bellamy, Commander Jollion’s niece, and when she found out I was a Swann she wanted to know if I was related to Cecily Swann, the Fashion Queen of the World.’

Cecily burst out laughing, then shook her head, highly amused. ‘I’ve never met Phoebe, but her mother is Commander Jollion’s sister, Adrianna. She has quite a big family. About seven children.’

‘My goodness, that’s quite a brood. But she only mentioned two brothers,’ Harry said as they went into the gazebo. They sat down opposite each other, and Cecily explained, ‘Mam’s not angry with you, Harry, just concerned—’

‘About the possibility of gossip,’ he cut in, his face gloomy.

‘I suppose that does worry her a bit, because of your position here. But she’s more concerned that you’re “on a road to nowhere”, is the way she put it. You told her you want children, and very much so, and she thinks that’s not going to happen because Pauline Mallard is too old.’

Harry nodded, and now a reflective expression slid on to his face. ‘Mam’s right, Pauline is forty-eight, and she herself thinks the same thing. Her child-bearing days are more than likely over. At least that’s what Pauline believes.’

‘She doesn’t look forty-eight, so much younger.’

‘That’s what I said when she told me her age. She’s been very honest and open with me, Ceci. Pauline’s a good woman.’

‘A married woman,’ Cecily said very softly, reaching out, taking hold of Harry’s hand on the table. Holding it tightly, she said, ‘Listen to me, I’m your sister and I know you better than anybody. Therefore, I know you must be madly in love with her to keep this affair going.’ Cecily paused, shook her head slowly, finished, ‘But it’s going nowhere.’

When Harry remained silent, Cecily murmured, ‘I suppose she has an unhappy marriage, right?’

‘Yes, she does. Sheldon travels a lot, and, well, it’s not an intimate relationship, from what she’s told me.’

Cecily couldn’t help sighing. ‘Oh Harry, Harry, that’s what they all say, be it a man or a woman who is committing adultery. It’s the same old story, and has been for centuries. For ever, I suppose.’

‘In Pauline’s case I think it’s true. He has other interests … in a different direction.’

‘What do you mean?’ She lowered her voice when she asked in a cautious tone, ‘Do you mean he’s a homosexual?’

‘She never said that, just that it was not intimate,’ Harry answered sotto voce. ‘And he had different tastes.’

‘I’m not surprised she didn’t say anything else. He could go to jail.’

He nodded. ‘I believe her, Ceci, and that’s that. I do know it would be hard for me to leave her.’

‘Has she ever mentioned getting a divorce?’ Cecily asked, her eyes focused on Harry.

‘She says he’ll never agree to a divorce, and that we have to make the best of it.’

‘I don’t think you should make the best of it, as Pauline calls it! You’re stuck with a woman too old to have your children, and one who obviously won’t get a divorce for some reason.’

Leaning forward, Cecily said emphatically, ‘Harry, please be sensible, think of yourself. And your future. You’re forty years old. Get out now and go your own way. You will meet someone, I just know you will.’

‘That’s very funny talk coming from you. I can remember your litany … you always said you could never love anybody else but Miles. And that’s how I feel about Pauline.’

‘It’s hard, I do know that, I really do. Mam thought it might be a good idea if you could get away for a while, take a holiday. Actually, I wish you could come with us now … to Zurich.’

Harry half smiled. ‘I run this estate with Miles, and when he’s away I have to be here. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy a holiday with you both in Zurich. I love being with you and Miles. The thing is, though, you take your problems with you, wherever you go. And before you nay-say me, those are words you once said to me about your feelings for Miles.’

Cecily nodded, filled with love for her brother, and also understanding his situation, his emotions. He was in love with a woman he couldn’t marry, one who most likely couldn’t bear his children. Cecily didn’t want to chastise him, or question him, only to comfort him. And encourage him to move on. She wished she could introduce him to someone special, but she did not have anyone in mind at the moment. Anyway, he would resent her interference.

Rising, Cecily said, ‘I’m here for you whenever you need me, Harry, and so is Miles.’

Harry also jumped to his feet, and he took hold of her arm affectionately. ‘I know that, and thank you for caring.’

They went up the path together without speaking, holding hands. He broke away when they arrived at the stable block. After kissing her cheek, Harry murmured, ‘I’ll look after David and Walter whilst you’re gone, Ceci. I love them, you know.’

She nodded. ‘You’re the perfect uncle,’ she responded.

He smiled at her and walked off.

She watched him go, thinking what a good-looking man he was; he was kind and caring as well. And he did love her children. That was only too apparent in the way he spent time with the boys, and taught them so much. What a wonderful father he would make, and certainly a good husband.

Walking towards the terrace, she could not help thinking what a sad life her brother had. He loved Cavendon and his job. He and Miles were the closest of friends and worked well together. He was popular with everyone, and much admired and surrounded by loved ones here.

But he was alone, living in the house Great-Aunt Charlotte had given him. All alone. He must feel hollow inside. He cooked his own meals. Or he went across the village street to their parents’ house, or ate at the village pub, Little Skell Arms. He was not a social animal and was mostly on his own.

It’s not fair, Cecily suddenly thought, with a rush of anger. That woman is using him. My brother deserves better. And I’m going to make sure he gets it.

Ten minutes later there was a knock on Cecily’s bedroom door, and Diedre was saying, ‘Can I come in?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Cecily called out, and went over to the door as Diedre walked in, smiling, and holding a dress. It was one she had recently purchased from the Burlington Arcade shop.

‘Is there something wrong with it?’ Cecily asked, eyeing the dress.

Diedre glanced around. ‘Well, I’m not sure about the pleating on the side. I hope I’m not disturbing you and Miles? Is he in your sitting room?’

Cecily shook her head. ‘No. He’s out in the garden with the boys, and Venetia is helping Nanny to cut some flowers for me. You want to speak to me alone, is that it?’ she asked, her mouth puckering into a smile.

‘That’s right.’ Diedre put the dress over a chair. ‘As usual it fits me perfectly. It was just a ploy, a reason to come and see you.’

‘Let’s sit here. If Miles comes back sooner than I expect, he’ll make for the sitting room. He always does.’

Diedre sat on the sofa next to Cecily. ‘I don’t want to get your hopes up high, but I did speak to a contact of mine. This morning. In Berlin. He’s going to see if there’s any way he can help Greta’s family.’

‘Oh how wonderful!’ Cecily’s face lit up.

‘Don’t get excited, Ceci. And don’t say a word to Greta. Or anyone else, for that matter. Not even Miles. There is a huge problem for the Steinbrenners, and that is their passports. They need brand-new ones, as I told you yesterday. Too many to get at one time, in my opinion. The family may have to be extracted one at a time, over many months.’

‘Oh no, that would be so difficult for them,’ Cecily protested. ‘Greta will be upset.’

Diedre gave Cecily a hard stare, and her face was grave. She said, ‘You must understand that this is the hardest thing to do. Virtually impossible now. Greta won’t have a say in it. If I can get just one person out, I’ll be lucky. And so will that person. Who would the family member be? What do you think?’

‘I have no idea. From what I know about the professor, I am sure he would want his children to leave first. If it’s only one, then I think he would pick Elise, his daughter. But I can ask Greta and—’

‘You cannot speak of this to Greta!’ Diedre cried sharply. ‘I just told you that, Cecily! No one can know. The choice will have to be made at the last moment. Please say you understand what a tough thing this is to do. And dangerous.’

‘Yes, I do, I’m sorry, Diedre, if I’m sounding stupid.’

‘You’re not, and I know you don’t realize what the situation is like in Berlin. The Gestapo are everywhere, and the SS, and everyone is under suspicion. I’m sorry I snapped at you, but someone will have to do this for me, and it could cost them their lives if they are caught.’

Cecily had turned pale. She nodded. ‘I wasn’t making light of it. I realize what a serious matter this is.’

Diedre reached out and squeezed her arm. ‘Secrecy is imperative. Nothing can be said to Daphne or anyone else when you get to Zurich. You do know that?’

‘I do. It’s between the two of us. I will never betray you.’ Cecily clenched her fist and stretched out her arm. ‘Loyalty binds me,’ she said.

Diedre did the same, and put her clenched hand on top of Cecily’s. ‘Loyalty binds me,’ she repeated.




FOREIGN INTRIGUE (#ulink_e4c6d989-1da7-5b5a-9145-881af521c137)


Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,

Jack jump over the candlestick.

Old English nursery rhyme




NINE (#ulink_ee11a01f-fb66-5a8c-acf6-2ad309ae2a96)


Daphne had fallen in love with the Villa Fleurir on Lake Zurich the first time she saw it, just over twenty-four years ago. Hugo had taken her to Paris for their honeymoon and then they had travelled on to Switzerland where they had stayed for some time.

The villa was spacious, with large rooms flowing into each other, and all of the colours used were soft, muted: cream and white, pale pink and peach, and the lightest of blues.

It was an airy and welcoming place; there was a certain informality about the house and its furnishings which Daphne had never changed, loving its sense of ease and comfort.

Mellow antiques were placed here and there in most of the rooms, intermingled with large, comfortable sofas and chairs covered in lovely fabrics, and there were beautiful paintings on the walls. All these furnishings enhanced the rooms, gave them a certain familiar look, but the villa was by no means decorated in a full-blown traditional style, which frequently looked far too stiff to Daphne.

Its informality had led her to create a more casual way of living over the years, especially after more of their children had been born, and everyone loved staying at the villa – be it in summer or winter – because of this. Cavendon was their home, but with a great house came a responsibility and expectations of certain standards. Over the years the villa had become the holiday home for Daphne and Hugo and their children, and other members of the family as well. Daphne’s father, the 6th Earl, had spent his honeymoon here with Charlotte Swann and had been captivated by its beauty and tranquillity.

The main reception rooms opened on to a large garden that swept down to the lake, and the views were spectacular. Hugo, who had bought the villa long before his marriage to Daphne, had never wanted to sell it, and had hung on to it even when financial problems loomed. He had always understood that Villa Fleurir was a wonderful place to escape to and relax in, and also to enjoy the natural beauty surrounding the house, and the ancient town of Zurich, which had great charm.

The one room Daphne had changed was a small sitting room which opened off the library. She had eventually taken this for herself. By adding a desk she had instantly made it into an office. As long as she had a safe place for her papers, and a spot in which to work, she was happy.

On this sunny morning in the first week of August, she sat at the desk, going over the household books. Having run Cavendon for years for her father, she had become accustomed to checking everything, including the money spent at the villa. Satisfied she was within her budget, she closed the last book, and sat back in her chair.

When she had first married Hugo, Hans and Hilde Bauer had run the house with great efficiency, keeping everything shipshape and running well. Their son Bruno, his wife Anna, and two maids who came in daily, had taken over after Hans had retired. If anything, the son was better than the father, but Daphne always kept that thought to herself. And Anna was the best cook, but Hilda had equalled her. They were lucky to have the Bauers to take care of them.

Getting up from the desk, she walked out into the foyer and hurried through the drawing room, making for the door leading to the garden. She stood on the threshold of the French doors, shading her eyes in the bright sunlight, and spotted her daughter Alicia sitting in the gazebo at the end of the lawn. Glancing around, she realized the house was still, very quiet for once. Everyone had disappeared except for Alicia.

Daphne walked down to the gazebo, admiring the grounds as she moved towards the lake ahead of her. The flowers were magnificent, making the garden breathtaking this year. Everything had bloomed so well, and fortunately at the right time.

Alicia looked up when she saw her mother standing next to her and smiled at Daphne.

Her mother bent down and kissed her cheek, and sat next to her. ‘Where is everyone, darling? Have they all gone out?’

‘No, not at all. Cecily is upstairs in their bedroom. She told me she has work to do. And some telephoning, checking on her business, I’ve no doubt. Charlie is in his room writing. My father went to a meeting and took Miles with him. He said they would be back in time for lunch, and not to worry about them being late.’

Daphne laughed. ‘Your father’s hardly ever late, bless him.’

‘I’m glad Cecily and Miles are here, Mummy,’ Alicia said. ‘I thought she looked tired. They both did. But Cecily seemed tenser.’

‘I know what you mean. I noticed that myself when they arrived on Tuesday night. But a few days here and she seems to be more at ease, don’t you think?’

‘It’s the house, you know, everyone sort of collapses here. And they become soft and unworried and genial. I guess I’m right about that.’

Daphne laughed. ‘I know you are. They let go, actually. So, have you made a decision, Alicia? Are you going to join your brothers at the Bowens’ in the south of France or not?’

Alicia shook her head. ‘No, I’m not, Mummy. I’m going to go home to Cavendon next Monday, actually. I want to prepare for work, for September, which is when Felix and Constance will be back. I had a note from him yesterday, and he says they will take me on as a client.’

‘I’m so glad, darling!’ Daphne exclaimed. ‘They’re the best; they will do well for you. And it won’t do you any harm as an actress to be the niece of one of England’s greatest actors.’

There was a sudden commotion, laughter and masculine voices echoing in the air. Daphne stopped talking and glanced behind her. So did Alicia, who exclaimed, ‘It’s Papa, Miles and Charlie. But what on earth are they doing?’

Daphne shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea. However, I do see a pair of ladies’ shoes peeping out from behind their collective trouser legs.’

‘Oh, it’s Cecily, obviously! They must be teasing her about something,’ Alicia volunteered. ‘They’re certainly joking around a lot.’

It was Charlie, Daphne’s eldest son, who began to march down the garden path, raising his arms, moving his hands gracefully, like a conductor commanding a huge orchestra. He sang out, ‘Ta da! Ta da! Ta da!’

At that moment Cecily appeared on the scene. She came through the French doors and on to the terrace, walking over to the men.

Alicia said, ‘Oh, they must be hiding someone else, Mummy. Whoever could it be?’

‘I don’t have a clue,’ Daphne answered and stood up, moved out of the gazebo, staring at the terrace. Instantly she knew who it was and her heart lifted with a flare of happiness. There was only one person in the world who had those gorgeous legs, now fully visible in very high heels.

‘Hey there! Don’t hide behind those silly men!’ she called out. ‘I know it’s you because of your legs and your shoes, Diedre.’

Hugo, who was well aware that very little ever surprised his darling wife, stepped to one side, and so did Miles, allowing Diedre to run down the path and into Daphne’s outstretched arms.

Cecily, who stood next to Miles, was wondering why Diedre was in Zurich? Was she here with news for her? Cecily dismissed that idea at once. It was far too soon for news. It was only last Friday, just a week ago today, that she had first spoken to Diedre about Greta’s problem. Maybe Diedre had just wanted a chance to relax for a few days away from Cavendon, needing new scenery, a little respite from the family.

Cecily knew how hard she worked, and how involved she was with her job at the War Office. Not that she ever said a word. She could not, presumably because she was bound by the secrecy laws of the country. If she was working in Intelligence. None of them knew a thing about her job; she had never been talkative about her life in London before her marriage to Paul. Nor after she returned to work in 1935.

The two sisters clung to each other for a moment or two. They had become closer than ever over the last nine years, working together through the family troubles and travails, and especially after Paul had died so suddenly. Diedre had been felled by the most terrible grief, had relied on her, Cecily and DeLacy. They had each helped as much as they could, been there for her when sorrow threatened to overcome her.

Finally stepping apart, they grinned at each other. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes,’ Daphne said. ‘Welcome, Diedre darling. I’m so happy to see you.’

Before Diedre could respond, Hugo cut in, ‘I couldn’t believe it when we arrived back at the villa and Miles was shouting, “Look what the wind’s blown in”, and there was Diedre standing just in front of us, paying off a taxi.’

Diedre turned to her sister, and said, ‘The thing is this, Daphne. I had to go to Geneva on Wednesday night. I was surprised at how well it all went on Thursday, and it struck me how close I was to Zurich. And I suddenly wanted to be with all of you, spend a few days here. And I decided just to come and surprise you without even phoning.’

‘And we’re glad you did,’ Miles said. ‘You’re a wonderful surprise.’

‘It’s lovely to have you, Diedre,’ Cecily murmured warmly, and went to kiss her sister-in-law on the cheek.

Diedre gave Cecily a very direct look. Their eyes locked and the knowing glance they exchanged said everything. Say nothing.

Daphne slipped her arm through Hugo’s. ‘Let’s go to the terrace and have cold drinks before lunch. It’s getting quite hot out here.’ Glancing at him, she added, ‘Anna and Bruno know Diedre is here, don’t they?’

‘Oh, yes. Bruno took Diedre’s suitcase up to her room, and he said he would tell Anna to set another place at the table.’

Daphne nodded and started up along the path with her husband, the others following behind.

The long terrace at the back of the villa, facing the lake and the mountains, was actually a roofed gallery in the form of a loggia, the roof offering shade and protection, and the open ends allowing air to flow freely. It was usually cool even on the warmest of days, and the family always ate lunch here in the summer, and often dinner as well.

The seven of them sat down in white basket-weave armchairs, which surrounded a glass-and-iron table. As they were settling themselves, Bruno arrived with a tray of glasses and a large crystal jug of lemonade. After serving them, he turned to Daphne and murmured, ‘When would you like luncheon to be served, my lady?’

‘In about half an hour, Bruno, thank you.’

He nodded and took his leave.

Charlie said, ‘Do you often get to Geneva, Aunt Diedre?’

‘Only occasionally, Charlie. Why do you ask?’

‘I was just curious. Also, I thought you should consider dropping in more often, don’t you agree, Mama?’

‘I do indeed, but your aunt has Robin to think of, you know, and he spends the summers at Cavendon, which is where we’ll usually find Diedre. At his side, being a good mother.’

‘Maybe I’ll bring him over here again for a few days,’ Diedre interjected. ‘He’s always enjoyed himself when we stayed, and especially with you, Charlie. Thank you for spending time with him and making him feel special and, most importantly, grown up.’

‘He’s a fabulous boy. When I talk to him and listen to his answers to my questions, and look into his eyes, I can’t help thinking he’s been here before, that he’s an old soul.’

Diedre nodded. ‘I think he is.’ She paused for a moment. ‘He misses his father, and you’ve sort of filled the breach during the holidays. He adores you, Charlie, and you’ve given him the writing bug. He told me last weekend that he wants to be a journalist, like you’re going to be after Oxford.’

‘I did encourage him. I hope you’re not upset.’

‘No, not at all.’

Changing the subject and looking across at Miles, Charlie now said, ‘Talking of journalism, I’ve noticed the British newspapers have been full of stuff about Edward and his lady-love. Our former king seems to have really embraced Hitler and the Nazis. There was a quote in one of the papers the other day … apparently he told someone that he was entirely of German blood. I think he said it to Joachim von Ribbentrop when he was the German ambassador in London, but I’m—’

‘I read that too,’ Miles cut in. ‘And he actually said it to Diana Mosley, not Ribbentrop.’ Miles shook his head. ‘I’m sure she was thrilled to hear that, given Sir Oswald’s admiration of Hitler. She and Mosley are in Berlin constantly, and so is her sister Unity, who’s obsessed with Hitler.’

‘Those Mitford sisters take the cake!’ Hugo exclaimed. ‘Worshipping at the shrine of the Führer, and Unity fawning all over him. He’s very flattered by all the attention he gets from certain members of the British aristocracy. Fools, the lot of them. No wonder Churchill sits fuming, I would, too. In fact, I do fume, in sympathy with him.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Daphne interjected. ‘I’ve noticed the Establishment feels the same way, though: they think Hitler’s a great leader. They’re afraid of Communism, that’s why.’

Alicia gave Miles her attention when she said, ‘But our royal family is rather German, isn’t it, Uncle Miles?’

‘Indeed. Our ex-king spoke the truth about his German blood. Let’s not forget that his great-grandmother, Queen Victoria, was German through her forebears, the Hanoverian kings, and her mother was German. Victoria married a German, her cousin Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. That was the name of our royal family for years and years. King George V, Edward’s father, changed it in the Great War. That is when the family took the surname of Windsor.’

Miles cleared his throat and was about to speak when Daphne exclaimed, ‘I see Bruno hovering, so let us go and have lunch. And please, Miles, no history lessons. I grew up listening to them at every meal.’

Her brother had the good grace to laugh, and Cecily exclaimed, ‘I loved his history lessons, and still do. Miles has a fantastic memory for such marvellous historical details.’

As she rose, Daphne threw Cecily a warm look and teased, ‘Of course you love his history lessons. You love everything he does. You worship the ground he walks on.’

Grinning at Daphne, Cecily shot back, ‘That’s true, I do, and I don’t care who knows it.’

‘We’ve all known it since you were about twelve,’ Hugo murmured, squeezing Cecily’s arm as he walked past. Leaning over her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, ‘And I for one love you for the way you love him.’




TEN (#ulink_89f8a196-093b-5001-a268-fb2f6c71fed3)


Diedre, naturally observant, had had this particular trait underscored by years of training at the War Office, and she thought watching people was a fascinating occupation even when it was her own family under her scrutiny.

And so, as they all sat at the other end of the loggia enjoying lunch, she was able to indulge herself. Saying hardly anything at all, she made a show of savouring the food but kept her ears wide open.

During the first course, a cold vichyssoise soup with chives scattered on the top, her family talked about Wallis Simpson, the American divorcée for whom Edward VIII had given up the throne so that he could marry her.

Diedre was not especially interested, and only listened with half an ear, her thoughts focused at this moment on her immediate boss, William Lawson. He had joined ‘the firm’, as he called it, several years before she had returned in 1935, a year after Paul’s sudden and tragic death. He had welcomed her warmly, and with enthusiasm, and made no bones about his admiration for her and her many talents. In consequence, he had given her a lot of leeway in the three years she had worked closely with him, and he listened to her ideas.

She focused on that now, knowing that if she asked for a few extra days off, he would agree. Certainly he had had no qualms about her coming to Zurich today, to spend the weekend with her sister and other family members. She might phone Will later and ask for this favour.

Diedre had relaxed for the first time in months when she had arrived at the villa only a few hours ago. Much of that had to do with Daphne, who had always shown love and understanding to everyone. And Diedre was no exception to that rule.

Surreptitiously, she looked down the long table at her sister and couldn’t help feeling a great sense of pride. Daphne was now forty-two, but did not look it. She was still the great beauty of the family, the gorgeous peaches-and-cream blonde she had always been. She had put on a little bit of extra weight, but not much, and there was a lovely aura around her. It’s goodness, sincerity and devotion, Diedre decided, knowing how much of herself Daphne gave to others. Although underneath the loving wife and mother was a steely determination that had enabled Daphne to run Cavendon Hall since their mother’s departure and death.

Hugo, too, helped to make Diedre feel better, perhaps because he had such a gift with people, knew how to make them welcome. Also, he had been close to her Paul, her husband’s business partner and best friend. So many of her happiest memories were associated with her sister and brother-in-law, and these memories warmed her, took away some of the pain inside.

Diedre was brought out of her reverie when Bruno placed the main course in front of her, and Hugo said, ‘Anna does the best sea bass in the world, as you know.’

Smiling at him, she said, ‘I do remember. And Daphne always creates the greatest menus.’

‘Mama is the best,’ Charlie announced. ‘The magical mother. Who does everything perfectly.’

Hugo grinned and Alicia agreed, as did Miles and Cecily. It was Diedre who added, ‘And without a doubt the best sister that ever was.’

A slight blush crept up Daphne’s neck to her cheeks, and tears glistened in her eyes, but they all knew they were tears of happiness. She sat there smiling at them, obviously pleased.

Diedre let go of her people-watching habit and concentrated on her plate of food. The sea bass had been grilled; it was served with a lemon sauce, with tiny segments of lemon mixed with capers in it, and small new potatoes.

‘It’s delicious,’ Diedre said to Hugo, and added, ‘Are you going to be here next week, Hugo? Or will you be in Geneva?’

‘Oh, here, of course, Diedre. No business next week. We just want to enjoy the Villa Fleurir for a couple of weeks longer. Then it’s back to Cavendon.’

‘I thought I might go to Berlin next week,’ Charlie said, looking from his mother to his father, a brow lifting quizzically.

‘Berlin!’ Daphne exclaimed, staring at her son in astonishment. ‘Whatever for?’

‘To see it. Get a feel about it. I’ve read so much about all these little men prancing around in ridiculous, operetta-style uniforms—’

‘Which would only be funny if these little men, as you call them, weren’t a bunch of dangerous gangsters,’ Diedre interrupted, her tone serious, her face grimly set as she looked at her nephew. ‘Make no mistake, they are tyrants, and will stop at nothing to attain their aims. Be assured of that, Charlie.’

‘I’ve no intention of allowing you to go to Berlin,’ Hugo said in a firm voice. ‘And what would be gained by it, I ask you?’

‘This is a particular time in history,’ Charlie said in a mild, steady voice, not wanting to alienate his parents, who always stood together on all things. ‘As a budding journalist, I want to see what’s happening, take photographs with my Kodak camera, do a general walk around. I hear Unter den Linden looks amazing … Nazi flags, great German eagles atop high columns, searchlights beaming. Very colourful.’

‘No,’ Diedre said in a harsh tone. ‘They’ve ruined that beautiful avenue with their theatrical trimmings. Anyway, no one should go to Berlin alone, Charlie, and especially a twenty-year-old.’

‘I’ll soon be twenty-one,’ he interjected, still speaking in the mildest voice.

‘I’d go with you,’ Alicia said. ‘But I’m off to Cavendon on Monday.’ Wanting to avert a quarrelsome scene between her brother and her parents, she hurried on, ‘I had a letter today from Felix, who’s in Los Angeles with Dulcie and James. He and Constance have agreed to represent me, and be my managers. I want to make films, you see, not tread the boards.’

‘What? You? A film star!’ Charlie cried, shaking his head, chuckling. ‘You’re the ugly duckling of the Inghams.’

‘No, she’s not,’ Cecily said. ‘She’s a graceful and elegant swan, if you’ll excuse the use of my name.’

Charlie grinned at his aunt, and said, ‘I’m only teasing the beautiful Alicia, and every one of you knows that.’

‘Yes, we do, darling,’ Daphne said. ‘And you’ve taken lovely pictures of Alicia on your Kodak. But it’s still no to Berlin.’

Cecily looked at Diedre, and said hesitantly, ‘Maybe we all ought to go with Charlie … what do you think, Diedre?’ She sat waiting for an answer, quaking inside, hoping Diedre wouldn’t be angry with her.

Diedre didn’t respond immediately, not particularly surprised by Cecily’s suggestion. She always said what was on her mind. Her sister-in-law had never shown fear in her life. And, as a matter of fact, she had voiced what Diedre had herself been thinking at that moment. It would be a way for her to speak to Toby Jung in person, and plan the extraction, if there was going to be one. But how to pull it off? Finally she spoke.

‘What do I think …? Well, I believe a family like ours would be perfectly safe in Berlin. Particularly if we were invited to a reception at the British Embassy by Sir Nevile Henderson, the ambassador—’

‘Gosh, Aunt Diedre, could you arrange that?’ Charlie asked, cutting in, awe echoing in his voice.

‘Oh no, Charlie, I don’t have that kind of clout, but I know my superior has had wind of the annual reception being given some time soon. For important visitors to Berlin. I could investigate, find out if that’s true.’

‘Hitler loves the British aristocracy. We all know that, and yes, of course, we would be safe,’ Miles said in a positive manner. ‘And I see what you’re getting at, Diedre. Being fêted at the British Embassy would give us the stamp of approval.’

‘Oh, surely we have that already,’ Daphne exclaimed. ‘We’re the Clan Ingham. Everybody’s heard of us. We’re sort of, well, famous in our own way.’

‘We’re certainly blond enough,’ Charlie added. ‘And we all have blue eyes. Well, almost. One of us does not.’

Cecily cut in through her laughter. ‘I know I’m not a blue-eyed blonde. However, I am quite famous too. Several German princesses are my clients.’

‘There, you see, we’re in!’ Charlie exclaimed. ‘Oh, Papa, do let’s go. I’m sure it would be quite an interesting experience.’

Hugo looked at Daphne, who looked troubled. She said very slowly, ‘Let’s talk about it, Hugo. Weigh the odds.’ Turning to Charlie, she added, ‘We’ll let you know tomorrow.’

‘I don’t know why you always do it!’ Alicia exclaimed, sitting down next to her brother on the edge of the swimming pool. This was located on the far side of the gazebo, at the edge of the lake.

Glancing at her quickly, he asked, ‘Do what?’ His blond brow drew together in a furrow.

‘Announce something that’s really provocative and bound to cause trouble, when we’re at lunch or dinner. Thank God you don’t do it at breakfast or tea.’

‘I don’t think what I said at lunch was provocative at all,’ Charlie protested. ‘You’re always exaggerating, and you’re very bossy.’

‘I’m neither. And you were provocative because you mentioned something that was bound to upset Beauty,’ she shot back, using the nickname they’d had for their mother since childhood.

‘Suggesting I was going to Berlin doesn’t seem provocative to me. I was only telling her, them, my travel plans. Actually, I thought it showed initiative on my part. As a future journalist I am naturally curious, focused on the news. And Germany’s certainly in the news these days. This happens to be an extraordinary time in history. The world is changing even as we speak.’

‘They won’t let you go,’ Alicia asserted. ‘Remember, they always stand together. Knight and Beauty are on the same page.’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake, I know that, and why are you going on about it? They weren’t as bothered as you’re making out.’ He was obviously exasperated with his older sister.

‘Oh yes they were! I could see another unpleasant scene developing. That’s why I saved your bacon by changing the subject, spoke about Felix.’

‘You enjoy talking about yourself, Miss Alicia Ingham Stanton. You’re all puffed up about your looks and your elegant figure. And your career.’

‘No, I’m not. But I am serious about my acting and getting my career off the ground.’

‘That’s the way I feel about working as a newspaperman. I’ve definitely settled on being a war correspondent. There’s bound to be a war, and I want to be right in the centre of it all, writing about it.’

‘Oh my God, don’t tell them. Beauty will have a fit and the Knight in Shining Armour will put his foot down. Hard. Forget about Berlin. It’ll never happen.’

‘Guess what Miss Know-It-All, I bet you five bob we’ll go to Berlin. Aunt Cecily gave me the solution.’

‘I’m sure you don’t have five bob to make a bet,’ Alicia muttered, eyeing him sourly.

‘Yes I do. And going en masse to Berlin will work. Pity you won’t be coming. You’re off to start your brilliant career as a film star. Ta da! Ta da!’

‘Oh do stop saying that, you sound utterly inane, and it’s irritating.’ She glowered at him yet again and he in return smiled at her, put his arm around her and pulled her close. ‘Don’t be like this … you know you’re my best friend and true companion. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you for averting what might have turned into an angry confrontation with them – he is always on her side, you’re right about that.’

‘Mummy worries about you a lot … about all of her children, Charlie. That’s why she does seem a bit restrictive at times. Listen, she’s very smart and clever, that’s why I listen to her. Always. She just makes perfect sense. You, however, seem to flout her wishes and go out of your way to make dumb choices.’

‘None of that’s true. I do not. And, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m a man and I can certainly look after myself.’

‘So can I.’

‘Mmmmm.’ He shook his head. ‘Not true. Sadly it’s a man’s world, Ally.’

‘Don’t call me that! Mummy doesn’t like it and neither do I.’

‘Let’s not quarrel.’

‘We’re not quarrelling,’ she answered, her voice changing, becoming softer.

‘We are bickering though,’ Charlie shot back.

‘I just feel very protective of you, brother of mine. I don’t want you to get hurt in any way, shape or form, and you can be a bit rash – reckless, even – at times.’

‘I know.’ He laughed, took hold of her hand. ‘Guilty as charged, old thing. I’ll try to mend my ways just for you. To please you.’

When she was silent, he added, ‘You can’t be that mad at me. You came down to have a swim, as I asked you to earlier.’

‘No, I came down to tell you off.’

‘Liar.’ He chuckled, his eyes holding hers.

Alicia leaned closer, kissed his cheek, then hugged him to her. She had mothered him since the day he was born, and still did. They were extremely close and had been hand-in-glove since their childhood. In a certain sense, they were more like twins than their siblings Thomas and Andrew, who were twins.

After a few moments of silence, Alicia murmured, ‘You win, Charlie, I did come down to swim with you. At the same time, I wanted to talk to you … to ask you to stop saying things that alarm our mother. She’s anxious enough, though she doesn’t want to show it. Remember, Uncle Guy died in the Great War.’

‘I will, I promise. I know I sort of blurt things out, spontaneously shoot before thinking. I’m sorry, I’ll do better.’

‘Just edit yourself a bit more, that’s all.’ She jumped up, and he followed suit. They looked at each other, smiled knowingly, and dived into the pool in perfect synchronization.




ELEVEN (#ulink_9f83fd1c-57b7-532a-bae6-5c29300fbfe3)


Whenever she came to stay with Daphne and Hugo at Villa Fleurir, Daphne always told her she could use the small office just off the library. And Diedre did so now. Everyone had scattered, gone off to do things, and she needed to do some thinking and make several phone calls.

Sitting down at the desk, Diedre glanced around, noting how much this room reflected Daphne and her taste. It had apricot-coloured walls and matching silk draperies, and the comfortable sofa and armchairs were covered in an apricot cotton fabric. The room came alive with the vivid colours in the paintings hanging on the walls, and the cushions on the sofa.

Diedre sniffed and smiled to herself. The room was redolent of Daphne’s favourite perfume, lilies of the valley, which had been created especially for her by Cecily.

A deep sigh escaped Diedre, and she focused on Cecily and her suggestion about Berlin. It would be a clever solution, it would please Charlie, and it would certainly suit her to go along with the family group, if Daphne and Hugo agreed. However, she would have to tell William Lawson, her immediate superior. She could see no reason why he would object; also, being in the middle of the Ingham family group was the perfect cover for her. Diedre had no intention of mentioning a possible extraction to Will. There was no need for him to know. Anyway, it was unlikely to happen quickly, if at all.

Diedre placed the call through the overseas operator, using Will’s private number. He answered immediately, was obviously glad to hear from her. Once she had explained about the family trip, he had agreed she should go. ‘It might prove useful,’ he said. ‘It’s the annual shindig next week. I’ll make sure you’re all invited. By the boss himself.’

‘That would be wonderful.’ She noted how careful Will was, even though he was on a safe phone. ‘I thought I might see the sights … if you get my drift.’

‘Your sister would enjoy it, too, if you get my drift.’

‘I do. Solo out.’

‘Correct. Don’t neglect me.’

‘I won’t.’

They hung up. His last words had meant that she must call him every day. That was mandatory when she was in a foreign country.

Her next phone call, via the international operator, was to Berlin.

‘May I speak to Toby Jung please?’

‘This is he, Daffy.’

‘I’m checking in as you asked.’

‘In the same place as yesterday, are you? Or did you do a bunk, follow your heart?’

‘How did you guess?’ She smiled to herself. How well he knew her.

‘You sounded so serious, very intent. Nobody could’ve stopped you.’

‘True.’ Diedre settled back in the chair, staring at the painting of the autumn woods at Cavendon, painted by Genevra some years ago. Its russets and golds were perfect for this room. Her eyes remained on the painting as she went on. ‘No progress, I presume?’

‘Nothing’s changed, Daffy. Everyone’s on the move, on holiday, going back home. And some are simply flying their own kites.’

‘So your usual helpers have dwindled?’ she asked.

‘I’d say that.’

‘Perhaps I should leave the suitcase with you, Toby. Just forget it.’

‘You might have to, Daffy Dilly.’

‘Thanks for keeping it for me. How’s the weather?’

‘Boiling hot. Beastly, in fact.’

‘I don’t like hot weather,’ Diedre added, ‘I grew up in the north.’

‘Are you thinking of making a trip here?’

‘That’s a possibility,’ she answered in a quiet voice.

‘Daffy Dilly, that would be a treat for me!’

‘And me too. And perhaps I can just get rid of the suitcase.’

Ignoring the mention of the suitcase, he asked, ‘When?’

‘Don’t know yet.’

‘I’m free as a bird—’ He cut himself off, and then after a moment he continued in a low tone. ‘There is a person who could no doubt get the suitcase to you. But you yourself would have to ask.’

‘No. It’s not possible!’ she exclaimed. ‘I cannot. I should say, I will not. In fact, it’s out of the question. I must not involve him.’

‘I understand. Please come, Daffy. We might even have a bit of fun.’

‘We might. So long.’ Diedre hung up the phone, leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. Her thoughts were whirling, and she asked herself if she should go to Berlin or not?

Diedre sat in the small office for another twenty minutes, running everything through her mind. Her main focus was on the trip to Berlin. It would work only if they went as a group, and it would be quite a large group. Six of them altogether, because Alicia would not be going. A group was not easy to miss so they would stand out. But they were the Inghams of Cavendon, therefore protected by their nationality and their famous name.

What Miles had said earlier was true. Adolf Hitler did have a fondness for the British aristocracy, and the two Mitford sisters were a prime example of his preferences. Diedre was also well aware that a number of highborn men in the Establishment and certain politicians were admiring of a man she truly believed would become the dictator of Central Europe in no time at all.

She could not understand why they didn’t see through him; see him for what he was. A man of evil who wanted world domination. Part of their problem was the fear they all had of Russia. They saw Communism as a greater threat than Fascism. Diedre let out a sigh. She held the view that they were facing a grim future, and a worse horror even than in the Great War.

There was a light knock on the door and Daphne looked into the room. ‘Are you busy? Can we talk for a moment?’

‘Of course, Daphers.’ Diedre rose and moved away from the desk, went and sat down on the sofa.

Daphne took the chair opposite her. ‘Hugo and I have just been talking about this idea Charlie has of going to Berlin. We don’t want him to travel alone; on the other hand we do understand why he’s interested. So what is your opinion?’

‘I agree with you and Hugo, he shouldn’t go alone,’ Diedre said. ‘I think any person without a companion in that city is very vulnerable at this particular time.’

Daphne nodded. ‘I realize you know Germany better than any of us. You’ve studied the country for years and you speak German.’ Daphne suddenly smiled, then went on, ‘Not to digress, but I recall when you went off on a trip with your friends Maxine and Laura in 1914. Just before the Great War. And you came back full of warnings about the Germans rearming. You were very het up.’

‘Gosh, what a good memory you have. Yes, it was a very revealing trip indeed. I sensed they were readying themselves for war, and I was right.’

‘And now they’re doing it again. Only twenty years later,’ Daphne murmured, her expression grave.

Diedre nodded. ‘People in Britain remember the horror of it, the death, the destruction, and that’s why there’s all this talk of appeasement. But it won’t work.’

‘Why not?’ Daphne asked, leaning forward, paying attention to her sister.

‘Because Adolf Hitler wants the war, although not necessarily with Britain involved. That’s why he, too, is encouraging the British to come forward with the idea of appeasement.’

‘I understand. Getting back to Charlie, why can’t he go alone actually? I need to give him reasons.’

‘Because Berlin is the most dangerous city in the world today. It’s militaristic, in a certain sense, filled with thousands of men in uniforms … the SS, the SD Intelligence agency, the Stormtroopers. And the Gestapo. There is unrest, bigotry, anti-Semitism, and very loutish behaviour on the part of many people. Not only German thugs, but vagabonds. Hundreds of Poles, Czechs, Hungarians, Serbs, you name it, have flooded in, and Berlin has become a cosmopolitan melting pot.’

Diedre paused, letting all this sink in. After a moment, she said, ‘Here’s a scenario. A young man, on his own, minding his own business, goes into a bar, or a beer hall for a drink. He jostles somebody or something like that, and a split second later he could easily be in a fight, getting beaten up. People are very tense, volatile. And that’s why anyone on his or her own is vulnerable.’

‘I understand, Diedre; you have explained it well. Hugo and I want him to be independent, to fly, to be himself, but since it is unwise for him to travel alone, do you think this idea of going as a family would work?’

‘If you wish to please Charlie, which obviously you do, I can make it work if we go as a family. I’ve spoken to my office and I can have next week off. And I would come with you.’

‘That would be simply marvellous, Diedre. Actually, I honestly don’t believe we would go if you weren’t able to accompany us.’

‘I’ll make all the arrangements. We’ll stay at the Adlon Hotel. I know it, and it’s the best. All we have to do is decide when we should go.’

‘I’ll talk to Hugo, and we’ll settle on a date. Have you any thoughts?’ Daphne asked.

‘Yes, actually. Tuesday of next week. That’s when we should travel to Berlin,’ Diedre answered.




TWELVE (#ulink_cf65e3cd-9eb1-55e4-89db-5c583849a6ae)


Standing back from the cheval mirror, Diedre eyed herself, pleased with the way she looked. She had borrowed a simple chiffon evening dress from Cecily. It was delphinium blue, tailored, as usual, and had full sleeves and a flared skirt. Her only jewellery was her wedding ring, watch and pearl earrings. Now she pinned Cecily’s famous white rose silk brooch on her shoulder as a finishing touch.

When she went downstairs, Diedre realized she was the first, and then, as she looked around, she spotted Cecily standing at the bottom of the garden near the water’s edge.

‘Coo-ee!’ she called out, walking down to join her sister-in-law beside the lake.

‘Another early bird,’ Cecily said, turning around, smiling. ‘I knew you’d be down at the same time as me.’

‘Aha! I understand, you want to talk to me.’ Diedre stood eyeing her, a quizzical expression on her face.

‘Just to thank you for agreeing we should accompany Charlie to Berlin. I wasn’t sure you would when I suggested that.’

‘I didn’t want to deprive him of the visit, since he’s so eager and sincere about his career as a journalist. And, to be honest, it gives me an opportunity to speak to my contact in person.’

‘Have you had any news?’ Cecily asked, sounding eager, her eyes lighting up.

‘Yes. And it’s not good. However, he’s still trying.’

Cecily was silent, a worried expression suddenly crossing her face. ‘Other people have been able to get out, according to Greta.’

‘Those extractions were early in the game … several years ago,’ Diedre explained quietly. ‘The professor should have left long ago. Things are moving very swiftly in Berlin, from what my contact indicates. Nothing remains the same; everything’s constantly changing. Every day.’ She stopped. She must not appear to know too much.

Cecily nodded, looked out across the lake, her face full of sorrow, her heart aching for Greta.

Diedre put her arm around Cecily’s shoulders. ‘I think it’s a good idea to be positive right now. You never know what might happen. Life is funny.’

‘Thanks for being so helpful, Diedre. I do appreciate it.’

‘You cannot say a thing to Greta. Or give her the slightest hope. That would be cruel. And you must not visit her father when we’re in Berlin. Not under any circumstances. That is absolutely mandatory.’ Diedre gave Cecily a long, hard stare, her eyes narrowing.

‘But she’ll know I’m in Berlin, and it’s not as if I’m going alone!’ Cecily exclaimed, sounding startled. ‘She’ll think it’s strange if I don’t go and see him.’

‘I realize that. And it will no doubt be common knowledge soon enough, because of the others going on the trip. They’ll talk about it. However, the professor may well be under observation, as are many prominent men in all professions, and especially intellectuals. You can’t go near him; you could endanger his life.’

‘I swore on our ancient oath that I would be loyal to you. That still stands, as you well know. A Swann has never broken an oath made to an Ingham,’ Cecily snapped.

Diedre nodded her understanding and, relenting slightly, she added in a gentler voice, ‘I will ask my contact if he can arrange a meeting between you and the professor accidentally, so to speak. I must leave it at that.’

‘Just out of curiosity, is your contact in the War Office with you?’

‘No, and I really can’t discuss him. I’m sure you understand why. Let’s just say I met him … accidentally. No more questions.’

Cecily made a moue. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I was wrong, and I will do exactly as you say. I realize this matter is grave, not to mention dangerous.’

‘You’re smart, Ceci, and I trust you to keep your silence. Do you recall my personal code?’

‘Believe no one. Tell no one. Remember everything. Walk alone.’

Diedre inclined her head. ‘And now it is your code, Cecily Swann Ingham. Understand?’

‘I do.’

At this moment they saw the rest of the family gathering on the loggia, and Diedre took hold of Cecily’s arm. She said, sotto voce, ‘Look surprised when Daphne announces that we’re all going to Berlin with Charlie.’

‘I will.’ Cecily fell into step with Diedre as they walked up the path. She was now fully aware that she was helpless, just as Diedre was. Aunt Charlotte was right when she had once said that no one was in control of their own life. It is the other way around. Life controls every one of us, she thought.

All evening Diedre kept her face still and said very little. She answered any normal questions about Berlin and the Third Reich, and that was it. Any questions which were extreme, political or complex, she left unanswered. She simply said she didn’t have a clue.

Not one person in the world, including any member of her family, knew she was with British Intelligence. Even those loved ones who were dead had never known. Great-Aunt Gwendolyn was the only person who had once had the nerve to come out and ask her bluntly. Even then, Diedre had not answered her aunt in any specific way, leaving her to speculate, still not sure of the truth. Her cover was intact.

When any of her friends or family broached the subject of her work, she always said exactly the same thing: that she was in administration, doing clerical work like the other women employed there. Diedre always left it at that and they didn’t press her. That was the way it must be now. A blank face, empty answers, a posture and attitude that proclaimed lack of knowledge.

Later, when she was alone in her bedroom, she would make her plans for Berlin. And she prayed to God that they would work.

Cecily looked at the clock on the bedside chest. It was well past midnight and she was still wide awake, her thoughts running on unchecked. It had been a lovely evening, with sumptuous food and the best wines. Of course it had become extremely lively once Hugo had announced they would all accompany Charlie to Berlin.

Charlie’s whoops of joy filled the air, and even Alicia had wondered out loud if she should join them rather than returning to Cavendon on Monday. It had been an easy evening, with everyone on an even keel, and for once no quarrels.

After her conversation with Diedre earlier in the evening, Cecily truly realized that it would be a wild-goose chase as far as the professor was concerned. Diedre had made no bones about that, and had been extremely negative. Cecily let out a long sigh at the thought of the trip, now no longer meaningful.

Miles touched her arm, and she realized that he was awake. He said softly, ‘I can almost hear that busy mind of yours turning and turning. What is it, darling?’

‘I don’t know really, I’m just a bit restless, Miles. Perhaps it’s the wine, you know it often keeps me awake. It must somehow fuel my imagination … or something like that.’

‘The same happens to me,’ he replied. ‘I’m just as restless as you. Tell you what, let’s go down to the kitchen and forage for—’

‘You can’t possibly be hungry after that fantastic dinner,’ Cecily interrupted, sounding surprised.

Miles laughed. ‘I was about to say forage for some bananas. Don’t you remember how Aunt Charlotte used to tell us to have a banana if we couldn’t sleep, when we were children. She said it would do the trick, and it did.’

‘Of course, so let’s go and forage.’ Slipping out of bed, Cecily put on her robe and slippers, and Miles followed suit.

A few minutes later they were standing in the sparkling kitchen, which had been thoroughly cleaned by Anna and Bruno after the lavish dinner. A bowl of fruit stood on the countertop; Miles took two bananas, grabbed Cecily’s hand and led her outside.

‘It’s such a gorgeous night, let’s go and sit by the water,’ Miles murmured, heading for the lake with her.

Although the sky was a dark midnight blue, there were no clouds; the thousands of stars appeared more visible than ever in the pure air. The mountains stood out ruggedly against the sky, their white tips glistening in the moonlight. The lake was placid, like a sheet of silvered glass.

There was a low bench on the edge of the lake and Cecily and Miles sat down on it, the two of them enjoying the magnificence of their surroundings.

‘Look at the mountains up there, tipped with snow, and the great arc of the sky glittering with stars … how beautiful it is here, Ceci.’

‘I know. There’s a peacefulness, a serenity.’ She shook her head. ‘And not too far away there’s madness, chaos and rumours of an impending war. The earth we live on is staggeringly beautiful, and yet there are those who want to go out and destroy it. Evil men like Hitler, hungry for power and dominance.’

Cecily shivered. Instantly Miles put his arm around her. ‘I know exactly what you mean. The tranquillity here is unique and it has kept Hugo sane all through those difficult years. At least that’s what I think.’ There was a pause. Miles looked down at her, tilted her face to his, ‘Don’t you want to go to Berlin, Ceci?’

‘Yes and no,’ she answered truthfully. ‘I want to see what’s going on, and yet I don’t want to see anything at all. I suppose because I think I’ll be frightened by the ghastliness of the place.’

‘Nothing will happen to us, darling. We’re totally protected as a well-known English family,’ Miles reassured her, pulling her closer.

‘Yes, I know,’ she muttered.

‘Was Diedre able to do anything to help Greta’s father?’ he suddenly asked.

‘I don’t believe so,’ Cecily responded quietly, alarm flaring inside. She must now be very careful what she said. She could not betray Diedre.

‘I thought she had a contact?’ Miles murmured.

‘From what I understand, it’s an … old friend,’ Cecily improvised. ‘She told me the person couldn’t do anything about helping to get travel papers. Seemingly they’ve become scarce. None available.’

Miles nodded. ‘The professor, like so many other Jews, believed they were German and therefore nothing would happen to them. How mistaken they’ve been. Tragically, in fact.’

Cecily remained silent.

Miles said in a reflective tone, ‘Did Diedre say anything to you about visiting Greta’s family?’

‘Not exactly, Miles. She just made a comment about intellectuals being watched. She said she had read about this development in one of the British papers,’ Cecily lied.

‘I did too. The Gestapo are a menace … they swoop down on so many people who are perfectly innocent.’ There was a small silence. Finally Miles added, ‘Perhaps it would be wiser if we didn’t draw attention to the professor by going to see him.’

‘I agree. We might be doing him a favour if we stayed away.’ She hesitated, being cautious. ‘Are you suggesting that the famous Inghams might be under surveillance?’

‘There’s a strong possibility that we will be, my darling. So what? We’re just visitors passing through, so to speak.

‘Diedre’s position at the War Office has always been a mystery to me, Ceci. She’s never told anybody one single thing, except that she does clerical work. What’s your opinion? Is that the truth? Or do you think my sister is in Intelligence?’

‘I’m certain she does clerical work, is in administration. Let’s face it, Miles, if Diedre was in Intelligence, she might have had the ways and means to help Greta’s father.’

‘Perhaps. Perhaps not. But I tend to agree with you. Anyway, Diedre’s not the type to play cloak and dagger, that sort of thing. She’s far too staid.’

‘I agree,’ Cecily replied assertively, relieved she had managed to throw Miles off the scent.




THIRTEEN (#ulink_c23a8f8d-7f53-5615-8568-dcbda6536182)


On their first morning in Berlin, Daphne, Diedre and Cecily met for breakfast in the dining room of the Adlon Hotel where they were staying. Hugo and Miles had taken Charlie on a sightseeing tour much earlier and would not be back until late afternoon.

‘I’m so glad we didn’t have to go,’ Daphne murmured, looking from her sister to Cecily. ‘First of all, I didn’t want to get up at the crack of dawn, and secondly, I don’t really have the desire to see too much of this town, especially since there are so many uniforms underfoot.’

Diedre laughed. ‘Underfoot indeed!’ she exclaimed. ‘They’re everywhere.’

‘Have you been out already?’ Cecily asked, eyeing Diedre, unable to conceal her curiosity.

‘No, I haven’t,’ Diedre replied. ‘But I noticed when we went for a stroll after dinner last night how many Stormtroopers there were, crowding in amongst us poor pedestrians. They all looked like bullies to me.’

‘What I noticed last night were how many smart women were dining here. In fact, some of them were extremely chic, very well groomed,’ Cecily said. Turning to Daphne, she went on, ‘I’d like to browse around a few of the best shops later. Are you up for it?’

‘I’d like that, Ceci, but I’d also love to go to the Tiergarten – either this morning, or this afternoon, if you prefer. Hugo told me that it’s a really beautiful spot, rather like an English park. It used to be the private hunting grounds of the Brandenburg princes several hundreds of years ago.’

‘Let’s do that,’ Cecily agreed.

‘You’re very welcome to come with us, Diedre,’ Daphne said. ‘Unless you’ve made other plans.’

‘I have actually. I must make a courtesy call to the British Embassy, for one thing.’

‘So join us for lunch,’ Daphne suggested.

‘I can’t. Thanks for wanting to include me, though. I have an old friend who works there and we’ve made a lunch date. Also, I must see one of the attachés at the embassy, about the reception tomorrow evening. I understand we’re on the list.’

‘I’m glad we’re being invited,’ Cecily said. ‘I enjoy ogling all the women and their clothes.’

‘Apparently it is black tie,’ Diedre said. ‘So I’m relieved I told you to have the men pack their evening clothes.’

‘And what shall we wear, Diedre?’ Daphne asked, raising a brow. ‘I suppose we have to get all fancied up?’

‘I’ll say. We’re the famous Inghams after all,’ Diedre replied with a chuckle. ‘As far as you’re concerned, you can wear an old sack and still look beautiful. No doubt you’ll be the belle of the ball tomorrow.’

‘I’m not so sure about that, but thank you for the compliment. I brought several summer evening frocks.’

Standing up, Diedre said, ‘I must go. I hope to be back by four. Shall we try and have tea together?’

‘That’s a grand idea,’ Cecily answered. ‘Have a nice day.’

‘I aim to.’ Diedre smiled and took her leave, hurrying out of the restaurant.

After buttering a piece of toast, Daphne looked at Cecily and said, ‘I’ve been wondering if Charlotte has said anything to you about Papa? About his health, I mean.’

This question surprised Cecily, and she frowned. ‘No, she hasn’t. But why do you ask? Do you think your father might be ill?’

‘Not really. He was very good when we left, but that is several weeks ago now. It was just something Alicia said on Sunday … She really did want to come with us to Berlin, I suppose because Charlie has made it sound so exciting. And those two have always been joined at the hip. I agreed she should come along, but she suddenly said she couldn’t let her grandfather down. Then she added that he was longing for her to come back to Cavendon and at his age it was important for her to be there.’

‘I don’t think she was referring to anything to do with his health,’ Cecily reassured her. ‘Anyway, if the Earl isn’t well, Miles would certainly know, and he would have told me.’ Cecily paused, sipped her tea. ‘Your father has always adored Alicia; she is his first grandchild after all. He doted on her when she was little and they’ve been very close. I’m sure he has missed her. Alicia obviously understands this and just wants to keep her promise.’

Daphne nodded, a look of relief crossing her face. ‘I’m sure you’re right. I’m just being silly.’ A smile slid on to her face. ‘The old man and the young girl have a special bond. I know that for a fact.’

‘Alicia’s a lovely person, very considerate to everyone,’ Cecily pointed out. ‘My mother adores her, you know.’

‘The feeling is mutual, and I also adore Mrs Alice.’ A faint smile crossed Daphne’s face; she looked off into the distance, as if staring back into the past. She said, after a long moment, ‘Your mother saved my sanity; saved my life when I was seventeen … well, you know all that.’

‘I do indeed.’ Cecily said no more, thinking of that terrible summer when Daphne had been violently assaulted. Only the Swanns had known about it, and Daphne’s parents.

As if reading her mind, Daphne said, ‘I’ve been terribly afraid of violence ever since. I think that’s probably why I’m not particularly happy here in Berlin. I sense an undercurrent of danger, of trouble brewing, then erupting. That’s why I’m relieved we’re only staying a few days.’

‘There does seem to be a lot of tension and trouble in the streets. I know exactly what you’re referring to, Daphne. There’s fear in the air. But look, we’ll be back in Zurich on Sunday, and anyway, we are perfectly safe.’

‘Yes, I know, Hugo reassured me of that.’

As they finished breakfast, a silence fell between them. They were both preoccupied with their thoughts. Cecily was focused on her father-in-law, wondering if Alicia had spotted something she had recently noticed. The Earl did not seem as robust, and it had struck her several times lately that his health might be failing. She had not said anything to Miles, or anyone else, but he wasn’t the same any more. Now, unexpectedly, she could suddenly pinpoint it. The spirit had gone out of him, and this saddened her. She resolved to keep this insight into her father-in-law to herself. Nobody needed to know for the time being.

Diedre left the Adlon Hotel, stepped out on to Unter den Linden, and turned right on to Wilhelmstrasse where the British Embassy was located. She thought about Tony Jenkins, whom she was about to see. It was a relief to know that she could talk to him face to face in plain language rather than on the phone in code. Even so, she was quite certain he would call her Daffy Dilly, but she had made up her mind not to address him as Toby.

Here at the embassy he was Tony Jenkins, an attaché. He did not really work for the Foreign Office; he was with British Intelligence, working for her, although none of his colleagues knew this. Self-confident, in control, blessed with natural charm, he managed to play the role of an attaché with great élan, and success. Not for a moment was he like an agent.

Diedre came to a stop at number seventy and looked up at the Union Jack on a flagpole above the huge front door of the British Embassy. It was flaring out in the light breeze, a dazzle of red, white and blue, and she felt a little surge of patriotism. To her that flag represented not only her country, but democracy, justice and freedom.

Glancing up Wilhelmstrasse, she saw the swastika on the German flag flying above the Reich Chancellery a few doors away. Inside that building sat Hitler and his henchmen, a bunch of gangsters in charge of the German government, plotting their evil schemes and the domination of Central Europe. Hitler’s vandalizing of democracy was abhorrent to her, and what an irony it was that these two buildings stood on the same street.

Moving swiftly, Diedre went up the steps and into the embassy, her head held high in her pride at being an Englishwoman, and one determined to defend everything her country stood for.

Within minutes of giving her name to the young woman seated at the reception desk, she saw Tony Jenkins hurrying towards her. He had a bright smile on his face, and was obviously happy to see her standing there.

A moment later he was shaking her hand. ‘Lady Diedre, good morning, and welcome back.’

‘It’s nice to be here, Tony,’ she said, and allowed herself to be led away, down a short corridor to his office.

Once inside, he gave her a huge bear hug. She hugged him back, and then they stood apart and smiled at each other.

‘I can’t tell you what a relief it is to see you,’ he said.

‘I know what you mean. I feel the same.’

‘Let’s sit down over there on the sofa, and then I think we should go for a walk.’ As he spoke he gave her a knowing look.

Diedre nodded. ‘I think that’s a good idea. Why stay cooped up inside when it’s such a lovely day?’ She turned her head, her eyes searching the walls and ceiling, and then she stared at Tony, mouthed, ‘It’s not wired, is it?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s better we go out before we get interrupted. Somebody might pop in.’

‘I understand. What about Sir Nevile? I should pay my respects to the ambassador.’

‘He asked me to explain that he is unavailable at the moment. But he welcomes you, and is looking forward to seeing you and your family tomorrow evening.’

Tony stood, went over to his desk and picked up some envelopes. ‘These are your invitations to the reception and dinner, Diedre. I thought of sending them over to the Adlon by messenger, and then decided just to give them to you.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, and took them from him. There was one for her, another for Cecily and Miles, and a third for Daphne, Hugo and Charlie. ‘We’ll all be there with bells on,’ she said with a chuckle. Opening her handbag, she put the three envelopes inside and got up. ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s go.’




FOURTEEN (#ulink_e2a36baf-f106-538e-b19f-6553d88f6347)


They got out of the taxi on the Tiergartenstrasse, and went straight into the Tiergarten, after Tony had paid off the driver. Diedre knew the park well, having strolled through it in the past; it was one of the few places in Berlin today where tranquillity still reigned.

It was truly beautiful, laid out in the manner of a traditional English park, with large expanses of green lawns, limes and horse chestnut trees, and many weeping willows growing everywhere. The abundance of magnificent trees aside, the flowering bushes and flower beds were in full bloom this month, and the air was fragrant with their mingled scents.

Tony and Diedre made their way to a secluded spot near one of the artificial ponds where there was a wrought-iron garden seat.

Once they were seated, she said, ‘You didn’t say much in the taxi, Tony, so do let’s talk now. It’s so tricky when we speak in code.’

‘But safe,’ he said, and smiled at her. ‘My office isn’t wired, I have it checked all the time. Very simply, I didn’t want to stay at the embassy because I knew we would be interrupted. People popping in and out. That’s the reason for our visit to the Tiergarten.’

‘It’s nice,’ Diedre answered. ‘My sister Daphne wants to come here later. But actually she hasn’t taken to Berlin. I sense that she’s picked up on the free-floating apprehension that’s in the air.’

‘Most people do, Daffy Dilly.’

She laughed. ‘I knew you’d have to call me that once today. But that’s it, not again. Understood?’

‘Understood.’ He laughed with her, then said, ‘I think I might have someone who could handle a suitcase for you.’

Diedre sat up straighter on the garden seat and looked at him alertly. ‘I thought all of your contacts had gone missing.’

‘They have. This one fell into my lap, so to speak, and quite unexpectedly.’

‘Who is he?’

‘It’s a she.’

‘Tell me about her.’

‘She’s titled, well known in Berlin, socially acceptable everywhere, young, quick and clever. And quite by accident I learned that she’s associated with one of the secret underground movements, you know those anti-Nazi groups who help to get people out.’

‘Have you mentioned anything to her yet?’

‘Not exactly. You’ll meet her tomorrow. I put her on the invitation list for the reception, and she’s accepted. You’ll also meet some of her friends, of the same ilk, I suspect – oh, and a lovely Englishwoman who’s married to a German prince. Come to think of it, you might know of her. I believe she comes from a family in Yorkshire.’

Diedre frowned, her mind racing. And then it came to her in an instant. ‘Is her name Arabella von Wittingen?’

‘Yes, she’s married to Prince Rudolf Kurt von Wittingen.’

‘Her maiden name is Lady Arabella Cunningham. Her brother is the Earl of Langley, and he still lives at Langley Castle in North Yorkshire. Daphne knew her slightly when they were young girls. How interesting. Daphne will enjoy talking to her, I’m sure.’

‘Now that we’re in a safe place, tell me about the people you wish to get out,’ Tony said. ‘I don’t know anything, as you’re well aware. It’s been so difficult on the phone.’

‘I will tell you. But there’s just one thing … I did wonder if your phone at the flat is safe? Sure nobody’s listening in?’

‘It’s safe. I have ways and means of checking. I’ve someone clever with that kind of thing. So, how many exit visas are we talking about? That was never very clear.’

‘Four.’

‘It’s too many, Diedre. There’s been such a clampdown lately and people are getting scared!’ Tony exclaimed, his smile fading. ‘They think they’ll get arrested.’

‘I understand. My sister-in-law, Cecily Swann, has a personal assistant by the name of Greta Chalmers, and it’s her family who are trapped here. Cecily’s trying to help Greta.’

‘What’s their name?’ Tony asked, sounding anxious.

‘Steinbrenner. Greta’s father is a professor of philosophy and—’

‘Professor Helmut Steinbrenner, the famous expert on Plato?’ Tony interrupted. ‘My God, this is such a strange coincidence. That’s the third time his name has come up in the last few days. It is him, isn’t it?’

‘I believe so. He is definitely an authority on Plato. Why has his name come up, Tony? That’s a bit bothersome, isn’t it?’

‘No, it’s not. We have another important visitor here from London, Diedre, Sir Anthony Parry, the author, journalist and broadcaster. He’s also a professor at Cambridge. Big, big name in academia.’

‘I know that, I read some of his columns in the Daily Telegraph,’ Diedre said. ‘Has he mentioned Professor Steinbrenner?’

‘Yes, he has. At the beginning of the week he asked me if it was at all possible to invite Professor Steinbrenner to the reception tomorrow. As a personal favour to him. They are old friends. And so I did. I included Mrs Steinbrenner, and then one of the newspapermen I know from the press corps here was asking about him—’

‘Has Professor Steinbrenner accepted?’ Diedre cut in.

‘I’ll have to check that out. I didn’t pay much attention, mainly because I was just doing a favour for Sir Anthony.’

‘Do you have any idea why a newspaperman would ask you about Professor Steinbrenner?’ Diedre asked, her face thoughtful.

‘No. But he’s a friendly chap, owes me a few favours, so I can easily find out. But let us get back to that very important point. The exit visas. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you the supply has dried up. You could go to Valiant—’

‘I will not go to him! Don’t mention him!’ Diedre exclaimed, cutting across Tony, her voice sharp, angry.

‘All right, all right. I won’t bring him up again. He’s verboten.’

Diedre took a deep breath, shook her head. ‘Sorry, Tony. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. To continue, I’m afraid we have another problem.’

‘What is it?’ He looked at her swiftly, his light grey eyes suddenly turning anxious.

‘Their passports have “J” for Jew stamped on them,’ Diedre said.

‘Oh God, no! I can’t get new passports. Not any more.’ Tony slumped back against the garden seat, looking and feeling defeated.

Diedre took another deep breath and said, ‘What’s the worst scenario? Obviously not getting any exit visas. Could you get one?’

‘Probably, if my new contact works out, and helps me.’

‘Professor Steinbrenner has two children. I’m certain he will want to get one of them out first.’

Tony closed his eyes, and let out a deep sigh. Then he sat up and said, ‘A child. How are we going to handle that, Diedre? A child couldn’t travel alone. It’s too dangerous for one thing. A child is too obvious a target in more ways than one. If you get my drift.’

‘I do. A target for everyone. But when I say child, I don’t mean a young child. From what Cecily told me, I believe Elise, the professor’s younger daughter, is about sixteen or seventeen.’

‘That’s better, easier, but it’s still a tough one. A young woman travelling alone on a train. They’re full of troops today, Diedre. Troops going on leave, going to other postings. A woman of any age is a bit vulnerable, actually.’

‘You’re right, of course. Look, I did some hard thinking in Zurich, and I came up with a plan, working on the assumption you could only get one exit visa, if that. And—’

‘I should never underestimate you, should I, Daffy Dilly?’

‘No, you shouldn’t, Toby Jung,’ she shot back through her laughter. ‘This is what I thought might work. I have a friend in American Intelligence. His old college roommate is an impresario. He’s often in Berlin, visiting the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. He’ll do favours for his best buddy. I’d put him on the train out of Berlin. With the girl. To protect her.’

‘That’s the border town before the crossing into Belgium and then France, and what if something goes wrong?’ Tony asked. ‘A civilian wouldn’t know what to do.’

‘I’ve made that trip, and I realize there are very tough guards at the border. Passengers have to get off the train, show their passports, exit visas, whatever travel documents they have, and the guards do open suitcases. But things don’t often go wrong. You’ll have to brief this man, the escort – and if he sees something odd, or feels there are suspicions about them, he’ll simply get off the train with the girl, and go into the town of Aachen. From there he’ll contact you.’

‘Understood, and I’ll have to take it from there …’ He let his sentence trail off. They didn’t have a safe house in Aachen now.

‘It won’t go wrong,’ Diedre assured him.

‘What about the passport the girl has? With “J” stamped on it?’ Tony suddenly asked.

‘If the girl has a return ticket to Berlin, she won’t come under any suspicion. She’s going on holiday to Paris, returning home to Berlin in two weeks.’

‘And she’s going with a man, is she?’ Tony shook his head. ‘That might look strange to some people, especially if he’s older.’

‘I agree. The alternative is to put the man on the train alone in the same carriage. The girl will be told he’s there to watch over her, and therefore he’s not a threat. But they’ll behave as if they don’t know each other, look like total strangers.’

Tony nodded his head vehemently. ‘That’s much better. I think that will work. How do you know this fellow will do it?’

‘I don’t. But it is a workable plan, a good one,’ Diedre asserted.

‘What happens when the girl gets to Paris?’

‘He’ll take her to the British Embassy, where she’ll get an entry visa for Britain. It will be waiting for her. And then they’ll take the train to London together, and I’ll pick it up from there.’

‘Do you think Germans who are Jewish and have a “J” stamped on their passports are likely to travel, to go on a break?’ Tony pursed his lips. ‘I can’t help wondering if the guards might not think it odd. And there are often Gestapo on the trains.’

‘I understand what you’re saying, but the “J” is to proclaim they’re Jewish. It’s not to stop them going anywhere. The passport is valid. Look, they have a passport, nobody’s taken it away from them.’

‘Right. I get your point. So the stamped passport should not really be a stumbling block. However, I’ll see if I can get a new one. But it won’t be easy, and it’ll be costly.’

‘Thank you. And money is no object, Tony. Whatever is needed.’

‘What happens if I manage to obtain two exit visas? Does that mean Mrs Steinbrenner will be going, which would make everything easier, don’t you think?’ Tony cocked his head on one side, eyeing his boss curiously.

‘I do indeed, but I believe the professor will want his son to get out. At least that’s what Cecily has said to me. That will have to be last-minute planning.’

Tony nodded, and then said carefully, ‘Going back to problems. Let’s say the American gent and the girl jump ship in Aachen. Where will they go? They’ll be adrift. We don’t have a safe house there any more.’

‘We do, actually,’ Diedre told him. ‘I had confirmation on Monday of this week that it’s ours now. I’ll give you the details later. Now, what is the name of the person I’m going to meet tomorrow, the one who might help with a suitcase?’

‘I’ll tell you over lunch,’ he said.

The restaurant was in a narrow alley in the middle of a tangled web of back streets in an unfashionable part of Berlin. But they served the best homemade Bavarian food and it had been Tony’s favourite for several years. He was a regular, and because of his inherent charm, good manners and generous tips, he was treated royally by Frau Weber, the proprietor, and the waiters.

He always had the same table in a corner near the front door with his back to the wall. He could easily see everyone who entered and left, and, if necessary, he could be out of there in a flash.

Diedre loved the little restaurant as well, and whenever she was in Berlin, Tony took her there. And that was where they were headed when they left the Tiergarten and hailed a taxi on Tiergartenstrasse.

After receiving a warm welcome from Frau Weber, they were shown to Tony’s usual table, and within minutes tall glasses of lemonade appeared along with the menus. Neither of them drank alcohol when they were working. After a few sips of the lemonade, Tony leaned closer to Diedre, and said, ‘I’d like to tell you about my new contact before we order.’

‘Yes, yes, do,’ Diedre said, ‘I want to know all about her.’

‘I don’t know too much, but certainly enough for you to understand where she’s coming from, the background of her rather turbulent life.’

‘Turbulent?’ Diedre raised a brow questioningly, frowning. Turbulent backgrounds alarmed her.

‘Yes, I’m afraid so, although she seems intact on the surface: controlled, calm. Anyway, here goes. Her name is Princess Irina Troubetzkoy. Her father, Prince Igor Troubetzkoy, was murdered in 1917, when Irina was about six and her mother, Princess Natalie, in her early twenties. Because of his death and the fall of the Romanov autocracy, they fled Russia. It is my understanding that her mother is a cousin of the late Tsar, by the way.’ Tony paused, took a swallow of lemonade.

Diedre said, ‘And so they came to Berlin?’

‘No, they didn’t, at least not at first. They were in various countries, and spent quite some time in Poland, where they had close friends in the Polish aristocracy. Ten years ago they came to Berlin and stayed, tired of being refugees apparently and wandering from country to country.’

‘Did her mother work? Or Irina when she was older? How did they manage to live, do you know?’

Tony shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. But I don’t think Princess Natalie worked, or Irina when she grew up. The person who introduced me to Irina just recently implied that they had managed to escape with a lot of jewellery and some money, and certain Romanov relatives who had also escaped helped them financially.’

‘It’s the same story about many White Russians who fled the revolution. But I will say this, those I’ve met proved to be very resilient, and commendable.’

‘Good words to use. I think Princess Irina and her mother must have been extremely resilient indeed over the years. Anyway, the good news is that Princess Natalie recently married a Prussian Baron, a widower, and at last they have a real home. The Herr Baron has a house on Lützowufer, and all seems to be well with them, and the marriage is a grand success, so I’m told.’

‘Happy endings warm the heart,’ Diedre murmured quietly. ‘So, what makes you think Princess Irina can help us get an exit visa, or visas?’

‘I’m sure it will be only one, Diedre, the way things are at the moment.’ Tony leaned back in the chair, looking off into the interior of the restaurant. At last he said, quietly, ‘A close friend in my line of work who’s at another foreign embassy in Berlin tipped me off that Irina often works with an underground anti-Nazi group. The ones helping Jews, dissidents, and Catholics to leave Germany. He made me swear to keep her secret a secret.’

‘I fully understand. Your secret is my secret. How old is she?’

‘I figured out she must be in her mid-twenties since she was six in 1917. She was probably born in 1911. She’s attractive, rather good looking, in fact, and loaded with charisma. She appears to have led a life of ease and luxury, when that’s quite to the contrary. But you’ll meet her tomorrow.’

‘I assume I’m meeting her as an English socialite and not a woman who works at the War Office?’

‘Correct, and that’s why I’m so pleased you have Lady Daphne and her husband with you, and your brother and his wife … it all plays well for me. You’re important British visitors on holiday in Berlin.’

Diedre nodded. ‘I agree, and that means you’ll be doing the asking, dealing directly with Princess Irina?’

‘Yes, I will. Don’t worry about that. You’ve got to keep your cover. Obviously. Now, let’s order. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.’

Diedre smiled at him. ‘So am I, but I must be careful. This food is so tempting, I always eat everything, and then have to starve myself for a week. And I can’t put on any weight at the moment. I’m living in borrowed clothes from Daphne and Cecily. I only had a few things with me when I did an errand in Geneva, and then decided to stay in Zurich to be with Daphne and the others.’

‘And just look where you ended up. With me. And that’s been good because we’ve been able to have a proper talk without fear of eavesdroppers. And we’ve made a plan.’

‘Now everything depends on you, Tony.’ Picking up the menu, Diedre stared at it, but her mind was on the days ahead and what she had to do.

Looking up from the menu, she added, ‘I’m afraid I shall stick with my usual … Bockwurst and sauerkraut, with potato pancakes and apple sauce first.’

He laughed. ‘I’m having the same, I love their Bavarian white sausage.’ He frowned, then said, ‘I would love to have a cold beer, but I suppose I can’t.’

‘I’d join you if I could, but we daren’t drink, Tony. We’ve got to be on our toes at all times. Life can change in a split second. You never know what’s going to happen. Especially in our business.’

‘You’re right.’ He signalled to the waiter and ordered the food, and then turned to Diedre. He murmured softly, ‘I think there might be a time element here; things are changing so swiftly in Berlin. I want to try to get the suitcase out before the end of this month.’

Diedre looked at him, her blue eyes searching his face. ‘Do you know something I don’t?’

‘No. But I think trouble is brewing. Also, there’s a whole new feeling in the air … a sense of expectation … Something big is coming. I just don’t know what.’

‘Then you will have to be quick and nimble,’ Diedre answered. ‘Now, here’s the information you need about the safe house in Aachen.’

She spoke and he listened, memorizing the address and other details. A few minutes later, Tony asked, ‘By the way, what’s the name of the impresario, the American gent who’s often in Berlin?’

‘He’s called Alexander Dubé, and he is American. Born and brought up there. French father. He’s apparently very dignified and elegant in his appearance. Speaks French and German, and he’s as clean as a whistle. And he doesn’t mind doing a favour for my friend at the American Embassy, who I will fill in when I get back. But you’ll have to deal with Alexander Dubé here.’

‘No problem, Boss,’ he answered and grinned at her. ‘Here comes our gourmet lunch, Daffy Dilly.’




FIFTEEN (#ulink_b795067b-2952-5eb4-9c37-6856e9c76bea)


‘I’m glad I found you alone,’ Diedre said, following Cecily into her suite at the Adlon. ‘Where is everyone?’

‘They decided to go to the Tiergarten, because Charlie hadn’t seen it, and Daphne went along as well. They were then going to Horcher’s for lunch.’

‘I see. Didn’t you want to go, Ceci?’

‘Not really, I’m already back in my work mood …’ She paused, half smiled. ‘Miles wanted us to honour this break, but I’m not very good at holidays, you know that. I needed to speak to Dottie, go over a lot of things. With a war undoubtedly in the wind I have so many plans to make for the business. It’s all rather urgent.’

‘I understand. Did you speak to Greta this morning?’

‘No, I didn’t really have reason to, and anyway I wanted to avoid it, if the truth be known. Rather cowardly on my part, isn’t it?’

Diedre shook her head, and said, ‘Not at all. I know how you feel. I got a bit of unexpected and interesting news yesterday – only by chance, of course. And I know it’s going to please you.’

Cecily looked at her sister-in-law, expectancy filling her eyes. ‘Is it about Professor Steinbrenner?’

‘Quick as a tick, you are, Cecily. Yes, it is, but I don’t want you to get too excited. My friend Tony Jenkins from the embassy has told me several English people will be at the reception tonight. Lady Arabella Cunningham, who is now married to a German prince. Daphne used to know her when they were girls.’

‘How amazing. And it will make Daphne feel better about going. She really doesn’t like being here.’

Diedre nodded. ‘I know. She has a great aversion to Germany. The academic and broadcaster, Sir Anthony Parry, is coming, and he’s asked if he can bring an old friend, Professor Steinbrenner.’

‘Oh, thank God. I’m going to meet him, and in the most normal way … quite by accident.’ Cecily was obviously thrilled.

‘Yes, you are. However, when I told Tony he was also an acquaintance of ours, he said the professor hadn’t yet replied to the invitation.’

Cecily’s face fell. ‘I do hope he comes. It would be lovely to go back to London and tell Greta I had talked with her father. I know it would make her feel so much better.’ Cecily paused, and then asked quietly, ‘Do you think he’ll come?’

Diedre shook her head, gave a half shrug. ‘I just can’t answer that. However, I got the impression that Sir Anthony and the professor are very good friends of long standing, so I’m going to hazard a guess and say it’s more than likely he’ll be there this evening.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me last night?’ Cecily asked, frowning.

‘There really wasn’t a chance; we were surrounded by family and Charlie hardly stopped talking. Anyway, I need to speak to you very seriously, that’s another reason I waited until this afternoon.’

‘You sound so grave,’ Cecily responded, searching Diedre’s face. ‘Go on, tell me. I’m all ears.’

‘I want to caution you to be extremely careful how you handle the meeting with Professor Steinbrenner. You must watch your words. There can be no discussion about getting the family out, or anything like that. Talk mostly about Greta, how wonderful she is, how much you rely on her. Be very positive in every way. No woeful commiserations about his predicament.’ Diedre paused for a moment, then continued, ‘I’ve only been to a couple of these receptions over the years, but they are now very crowded, so Tony explained. Everyone comes to the British Embassy “bun fight”, as he calls it. Look, Ceci, all eyes will be on us, because of who we are. And never forget walls have ears.’

‘Even carpets do,’ Cecily shot back, and they both laughed, breaking the solemnity of the moment.

Swallowing her laughter, Cecily said, ‘I promise to be extremely cautious – careful in everything I say and do. I truly understand the situation. You’ve made it very clear to me. And I know I must keep this bit of information to myself, correct?’

‘Yes. It’s better you look surprised when Professor Steinbrenner is introduced. So don’t tell Miles or anyone else.’

‘I won’t. Are you going to mention Lady Arabella to Daphne?’

‘I thought about it long and hard today, and I think it’s better if I just leave it alone. She’ll meet her in a natural way, be brought over to Daphne, I’ll make sure of that.’ Noticing a look of puzzlement in Cecily’s eyes, Diedre went on swiftly, ‘I want the evening to be casual, very normal. And I want us all to enjoy it. Tony says there’ll be lots of interesting people there, and that it will be fun.’

Cecily made a face. ‘Fun, eh? At a time like this, with the world on the edge of a precipice. Sometimes I can’t figure it all out … or why people behave the way they do.’ She shook her head. ‘To be honest, deep down inside I’m filled with alarm about the future.’

‘And so am I,’ Diedre answered quietly. ‘But not everyone sees things the way we do. They don’t understand politics, what’s happening around them. And so they live their lives as usual. And we have to do that for the moment as well. We must keep a smile on our faces, Ceci, and never show fear.’

‘Right,’ Cecily said, ‘So you’re going to wear my black crêpe de Chine frock tonight, but you will need some jewels to liven it up.’

Diedre laughed. ‘I didn’t take anything like that with me to Geneva last week. I’d gone on an overnight trip. Can you help me out?’

‘I certainly can,’ Cecily exclaimed. ‘Come with me to the bedroom, I’ll show you some of the pieces I brought. They’re all fakes, of course, from the Cavendon Collection.’

Diedre nodded, and the two of them went into the bedroom. Cecily removed several black velvet bags from a chest of drawers, and emptied the contents on to the bed, sorting through them.

Diedre joined her and couldn’t help exclaiming about the beauty of the pieces. ‘They all look like the real thing,’ she said, and instantly reached out for the long strand of pearls.

‘Hello, ladies,’ Miles said from the doorway.

He had startled them both, and they swung around in surprise, not having heard him enter the suite.

‘Gosh, you made me jump!’ Cecily exclaimed, and hurried over to her husband, hugging him tightly. ‘You’re back earlier than expected.’

He nodded, smiling at her, and turning to his sister, he said, ‘You’re looking very smart today, Diedre. I like the suit … but it does look a bit familiar.’ He chuckled as he said this.

‘Courtesy of your wife, Miles. How was the trip to the Tiergarten? And where are the others?’

‘Gone to their rooms. I said we’d all go down for tea a bit later. Not that I’m hungry. We had quite a lunch at Horcher’s.’

The three of them went back into the living room and Diedre, showing him the pearls and ear clips in her hand, said, ‘I’m staggered by these pieces. Ceci’s a wonder.’

He grinned at her. ‘Oh, I know that. I’ve known it since she was five.’

‘Did Charlie enjoy himself going around the sights this morning?’ Diedre asked, sitting down.

Joining her on the sofa, Miles nodded. ‘He did, and I must say he’s really sharp and bright, and has a wonderfully searching, very curious mind. He’ll do well as a journalist. He’s picked the perfect profession for himself. He wants to know everything … about everything. He’s articulate, and has great clarity when he speaks. And what knowledge is stored in that mind of his. I was quite amazed by him, actually.’

A smile spread across Diedre’s face, and she said, ‘I’m glad you’ve seen that, Miles, and I hope Daphne knows it, too.’

‘I believe she’s learned a lot about him whilst we’ve been in Berlin.’

Cecily interjected, ‘Daphne worries about him because he can be very impetuous.’

‘I think adventurous might be a better word,’ Miles said. ‘Hugo was certainly impressed by his son today, wanted to know how he knew so much about Hitler and the Third Reich, and what’s going on in the world.’

‘I believe it’s because he reads all of the British newspapers,’ Diedre announced. ‘As do I. He explained this to me the other day, and he is indeed a fount of information, as you say.’

‘I think Daphne finally gets it about him,’ Miles murmured, settling back against the cushions. ‘She’s such a good mother, and not possessive really, but she does fuss about him.’

‘I know,’ Diedre agreed. ‘She loves all of her children, but it’s Charlie she seems to focus on. No wonder they have these contentious quarrels at times. He just blurts things out. He doesn’t know how to edit himself around his parents.’

Miles said, ‘Look, she’s seen him with us today and every evening we’ve been here, and she’s come to understand he’s twenty, almost twenty-one. I kept reminding her. I think it’s finally sunk in he’s a grown man—’

‘I hope he doesn’t do something silly, like trying to become a war correspondent if war breaks out,’ Cecily cut in.

‘When it breaks out,’ Diedre corrected her. ‘And I agree. But it’s far more likely he’ll have to join up – he may not have a choice.’

‘I’ve never seen such a militaristic city,’ Miles now said, changing the subject. ‘There are more uniforms here than you can possibly imagine. Horcher’s was full of them.’

‘What sort of uniforms do the Gestapo wear?’ Cecily asked.

‘They don’t. They’re in civilian clothes. But they look so sinister in their leather trench coats and snap-brimmed trilbies, you can’t fail to miss them.’

‘I’d better go and put the jewellery away,’ Diedre said, standing up, wanting suddenly to escape. ‘Are we having tea in their suite or downstairs, Miles?’

‘Downstairs, in about an hour, darling.’

‘See you then,’ she said, and looking at Cecily she added, ‘Thank you for putting me properly together for tonight.’




SIXTEEN (#ulink_d195c577-f308-5e6c-af44-2d41135e720c)


Miles couldn’t help smiling to himself as the six of them walked through the lobby of the Adlon. Every head turned to stare.

No wonder, he thought: the women look stunning. Cecily was in lavender chiffon with several strands of amethysts around her neck; Daphne wore white silk and her sapphires, whilst Diedre was in her borrowed black dress and the fake Marmaduke pearls. They were elegant, stylish and carried themselves well.

Even when he was much younger, just twelve, he had been well aware that the Inghams en masse caused quite a stir, just by their very presence, and he knew the same thing would happen when they arrived at the embassy.

A few seconds later they went through the front door of the hotel and out on to Unter den Linden. They immediately swung right on to Wilhelmstrasse, where the British Embassy was located at number seventy. Diedre had mentioned to him earlier that the Reich Chancellery was only a few doors away. Miles suddenly shuddered at the thought of Hitler and those other gangsters sitting plotting their heinous schemes. Ruthlessly, and with enormous German thoroughness, he had no doubt.

Unexpectedly, Diedre fell into step with him, and slipped her arm through his. ‘I’ve warned everyone that it’s going to be a mixed bunch, and they shouldn’t be alarmed by the number of Nazi officers present. They’ll be dressed in their best field-grey uniforms, smiling, smartly clicking their heels, bowing and scraping like dummies. To no avail with us, of course. And you’ll recognize the Gestapo from their sinister expressions and cheap suits.’

Miles couldn’t help laughing. ‘There’s no doubt in my mind that Dulcie inherited your colourful use of the language, and that you, in turn, inherited it from Great-Aunt Gwendolyn.’ He tucked her arm tighter against his. ‘I can’t wait, and neither can young Charlie. Mind you, Daphne’s still a reluctant guest, in my opinion. Let’s keep an eye on her tonight, shall we?’

‘She’ll be fine, Miles. Well, here we are at the embassy and about to enter a bit of our own land in a foreign country where we know we are truly safe. And there’s the Union Jack fluttering right above us.’

Glancing up, Miles nodded, and then smiled knowingly at his sister; he swung around, beckoned to the rest of the family, indicating he wanted them to hurry.

Together they went into the embassy, and within moments they were being greeted by His Britannic Majesty’s Ambassador to Berlin, Sir Nevile Henderson.

The ambassador stood on the central landing at the top of the wide staircase. There was a genial smile on his face as he greeted everyone with his usual charm and graciousness.

Diedre ushered Daphne, Hugo and Charlie towards the ambassador first, followed by Cecily and Miles. She herself finally stood in front of him as the last member of the family.

After shaking her hand, he spoke to her for a moment, saying quietly that they would speak later and longer at the small dinner after the reception. His expression was welcoming, his voice full of affection for her. She walked on, knowing there were other guests behind her.

Diedre joined the family and led them forward to one of the two reception rooms, where Tony Jenkins was waiting in the entrance. He hurried towards her, a huge smile on his face.

After kissing Diedre on the cheek, welcoming her, she introduced him to Daphne, and realized at once that he was stunned by her sister’s great beauty; actually rendered speechless. It took him a second to greet Daphne.

Immediately taking charge, Diedre introduced Cecily, Miles, her brother-in-law Hugo and then Charlie.

Once the introductions were over, Tony said, ‘Let’s go in and partake of a glass of champagne. Only the best served in this territory, and then I’ll present you to a few interesting people.’ His smile was wry.

‘The world and his wife are here tonight … it’s quite a throng,’ Tony added. ‘There are a lot of diplomatic parties in Berlin these days, at the different foreign embassies, but everyone says ours are the best. There’s even a waiting list now!’ He chuckled when he said this, looking rather pleased about the success of their parties.

They stepped inside and stood in the entrance momentarily, surveying the scene. Diedre at once noticed how full the room was, packed with people. The women were elegantly dressed, all rather chic, and the men were in black tie or uniforms.

It was a large space, with windows at one end, and two huge crystal chandeliers dropped from the ceiling. Masses of flowers were placed everywhere, and it struck her that there was a feeling of real glamour here tonight. A quartet played in one corner; white-gloved waiters in tails moved deftly between the guests, their silver trays filled with flutes of champagne and an assortment of canapés.

Glancing about, Diedre noticed the life-sized portrait in oils of King George VI hanging on one wall. He had stepped into the breach when his brother Edward had abdicated, and was now their King. Thank God Edward was never crowned, she thought. There would have been an even bigger mess.

Instinctively, she had always felt George VI would be a good King. He was brave, the way he managed and dealt with his speech impediment, that awful stutter. He had a lovely wife, who was now their most graceful Queen, and two little girls, Elizabeth and Margaret Rose. He was very much a family man, and always referred to them as ‘us four’, as if they were united against the world. Perhaps they were.

Tony, Miles and Charlie were taking flutes of champagne from the passing waiters, and handing them around. Once everyone had a glass in their hands, the group moved farther into the room.

As usual, there was an instant lessening of the chatter, and the overall noise dropped several octaves, as many heads turned to ogle the glamorous, aristocratic Inghams.

Charlie and Hugo had wandered into the middle of the crush within minutes, curiosity propelling them forward.

‘I wish them lots of luck, plunging into the crowd,’ Diedre murmured.

Cecily said, ‘Do you know anyone here, Diedre?’

‘No, not really. But I do recognize a couple of faces over there … amongst that group of men. They’re all foreign correspondents, mostly from the British papers, and I think the fellow they’re focusing on is William Shirer, an American writer. He’s considered to be the expert on the Third Reich. He’s covered Berlin for years.’

Daphne said, ‘I want you three to know that I’m really rather impressed with Charlie. I’ve seen his seriousness about going into journalism, and he’s certainly very focused and knows a lot. He just sucks up information.’

‘He really is a gatherer of news,’ Cecily interjected. ‘Miles thinks he’s got what it takes, don’t you, darling?’

‘Yes, I do indeed. He’s good, Daphers, very committed to his future career. He just needs air, space, the way you’ve given it to him the last few days,’ Miles thought to add, not wishing Daphne to say defensively that she didn’t stifle her son.

A moment later, Tony was coming back, ushering a handsome couple towards them and saying to Daphne, ‘This is your old friend, Lady Arabella Cunningham, who is now Princess von Wittingen, and her husband, Prince Kurt.’

‘Goodness me! Arabella, how lovely to see you,’ Daphne exclaimed, thrusting out her hand, a huge smile spreading across her face.

The Princess smiled back, and said, ‘It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, but you haven’t changed, Daphne. You’re still the great beauty.’

After shaking hands with the von Wittingens, Diedre, as usual, became the observer, listening to everyone else, enjoying the warm conversation in progress. She thought Arabella and her husband made a handsome couple, and from what she was hearing they were regular visitors to the British Embassy, as were several of their friends, whom they were expecting to arrive shortly.





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