Her eyes followed his black naval uniform until it disappeared from sight, and then she swiveled around, her eyes seeking Cecily. She saw her still standing next to Miles, chatting to Sir Anthony and the professor, and immediately walked over to join them.
When Cecily saw her, she reached out, took hold of her hand, and drew her gently into their circle. In a low voice, she asked, “Where’s the admiral? You should have brought him over to meet Sir Anthony.”
“He had to leave.” Drawing close to Cecily, Diedre murmured, “You’ll never believe who’s here.”
“Who?” Peering at Diedre, frowning, she said, “You sound funny. Who on earth is it?”
“Pauline Mallard.”
“What? That can’t be. It’s not possible.”
“Well, it is, because she’s standing over there, and with Diana Mosley, no less. Take a look. Don’t you see the redhead in the purple dress? Do you think it’s a matter of birds of a feather flock together?”
“Yes, you’re right, it is her. My God, Harry will be shocked when I tell him. I think the older man must be her husband, Sheldon Faircross.” A flash of annoyance flickered on Cecily’s face when she added, “She’s obviously traveling with him and therefore the marriage must work. She’s just using Harry.”
“I agree. But do you think she’s one of the cheering English crowd surrounding Hitler?” Diedre raised a brow quizzically.
Cecily was silent for a moment, and then she said in the same low concerned voice, “I don’t know. Perhaps. I am determined to get Harry out of her clutches, that’s the one thing I do know.”
While they had been speaking quietly together they had edged away from the group, and stood a few feet away. A split second later Miles joined them, and looking from his wife to his sister, he asked, “What are you two whispering about? You look like a couple of conspirators.”
Diedre smiled faintly, and said, “Harry’s lady friend is over there with her husband. Well, I think he’s her husband, and also Lady Mosley.”
Miles was as taken aback as Cecily had been, and he glanced around, asked, “Where? Where are they standing?”
“Near those big windows,” Cecily replied. “Come on, let’s walk down there and stand near them. Let her see that we’ve seen her.”
Giving Cecily an odd look, Miles said, “As long as you promise you won’t verbally attack her, Ceci.”
“I promise. I just want to make her feel uncomfortable.”
The three of them strolled down the long room and came to a standstill not far from the Pauline Mallard group. Within seconds she noticed them, flushed bright red, and simply turned her back to them.
“It didn’t take long for her to blush in embarrassment,” Cecily said, her eyes flashing. Miles grinned at her, amusement flickering in his eyes.
Diedre said softly, to her brother, “She is rather beautiful though, isn’t she?”
Cecily threw her a pointed look, and exclaimed, “Never say that to my mother. Her angry retort will be that Mrs. Mallard is also very promiscuous.”
“Everyone says that,” Miles murmured. “But yes, Pauline Mallard is a stunner, Diedre, and so is Diana Mosley. As are all the Mitford women, in fact. Although not quite as ravishing as the Ingham girls, in my opinion.”
* * *
“I wish you had warned me Admiral Canaris was coming to the reception,” Diedre said, staring across the table at Tony.
“I didn’t know he was, and if I had of course I would have told you,” he shot back swiftly in a slightly injured tone.
“But you’re in charge of the list,” Diedre pointed out, and took a sip of cognac.
The two of them were sitting in the small bar in the Adlon Hotel. Her family had all gone to bed after the embassy dinner, but Diedre had stayed up to have a nightcap with Tony, wanting to discuss Princess Irina.
Now he protested, “I’m not in charge of the entire list, only part of it! The diplomatic corps, the press corps, the German princelings and the international lot. The ambassador looks after special guests. He invited Valiant. But the admiral declined, that’s why I never even mentioned it to you. When I saw him come in tonight, I was as shocked as you obviously were.”
Diedre nodded. “All right. I believe you. So let’s get on, talk about Princess Irina. What did she say? What’s your assessment of her?”
“I believe she will help, she more or less said as much. She indicated she’s part of an underground movement, and by the way she is vehemently anti-Nazi, calls the German government a bunch of thugs and murderers. I explained the number of exit visas needed, gave her all the details, and she didn’t seem to be thrown by anything. She said she would get back to me next week. As for my assessment of her, I think she is completely trustworthy, and will do everything possible to help. Her early life taught her a lot. She’s compassionate.”
“Valiant’s going to help her help us,” Diedre volunteered.
“So in the end you asked him,” Tony said, eyeing her carefully, somewhat surprised by her words.
“Not exactly in the way you think,” Diedre answered, leaning back on the banquette, endeavoring to relax. “He thought I was troubled about something, and he sort of dragged it out of me. I told him. When he asked if I had anything in the works, I said I did, that you were hoping Princess Irina would make it happen. His comment was that she would come to him, and that he would do it. He called it a done deal.”
Tony was silent for a moment or two, and then he said slowly, “Perhaps they work together on a regular basis. What do you think?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to, Tony. But let’s face it, he has managed to get a lot of people out of Berlin, Jews as well as Catholics and dissidents.” She fell silent, looked off into the dimness of the bar, before finally saying, “That’s why I gave him the code name Valiant. And I suppose that’s why I worry about him, his safety. On the other hand, he insists he’s not under suspicion, or in harm’s way.”
“I don’t think he is. Nor are any of the others at this moment in time. Actually, I don’t know how the generals do it … they play up to Hitler by day, and plot his downfall at night.”
Diedre was silent again, knowing Tony spoke the truth. He had his ear to the ground, and he also had unique informants, all sorts of sources passing on information to him.
Misunderstanding her silence, Tony said gently, “Don’t worry, we’ll get the professor and his family out, and the admiral will be safe, I assure you of that.”
She gave him a long, thoughtful look, and said in a voice so low it was hardly audible, “Last year, Valiant said to me that he and his compadres, as he called them, would undoubtedly end up on the gallows. And I haven’t forgotten that.”
“He was joking,” Tony said. “Surely.” He laughed as he continued, “Everyone knows Admiral Canaris is revered, and his record is legendary. Why, he made history in the last war, because he’s a past master in intelligence. We all know, in our circles, how his ship the Dresden eluded the British Royal Navy because of his brilliance. He’s a hero in Germany.”
“I know,” she answered. “He is to me too, but for his other deeds.”
Eighteen
The restaurant the admiral regularly frequented was located not far from Abwehr headquarters. In some ways it reminded Diedre of the little restaurant she and Tony used, being also somewhat plain. But this place was better furnished and more sophisticated in style, and in the food it served.
Most importantly, Cafe Baumer, as it was called, was mostly frequented by officers and staff who worked in German military intelligence. In other words, the admiral was always surrounded by his own people; very few passersby stepped inside and stayed, no doubt put off by the plethora of naval uniforms; anyone phoning to make a reservation was firmly told the cafe was fully booked. It was the admiral’s domain.
When Diedre arrived on Friday, at one, as arranged with Canaris, she was shown to his preferred table. The waiter poured her a glass of water, and once she was alone
, she picked up the menu and studied it, and she remembered how good the Wiener schnitzel was here.
Letting her eyes roam around the room, she saw a number of uniformed naval officers, and a couple of women who were obviously secretaries. And then a moment later Major General Hans Oster was standing next to her table, his hat in his hand, smiling down at her.
“It’s so nice to see you again, Diedre,” he said, and lowered himself into a chair. “He’ll be here momentarily; he’s just delayed a few minutes.”
Like the admiral, Hans Oster spoke good English, but not with the perfect Cambridge accent the admiral had acquired years before, having been taught by a Cambridge graduate.
“Hans, what a lovely surprise. I saw you in the distance at the embassy party last night, but before I could come over you disappeared into thin air.”
He grinned at her. “I’m rather good at that, as you well know, Diedre.”
Suddenly there was a small flurry of activity near the entrance, and as they both looked across the room they saw Admiral Canaris arriving, and being welcomed by the owners, Alfred Baumer and his wife, Giselle.
“My apologies, Diedre,” he said a moment later as he sat down on the other side of her. “I was held up in a meeting.”
“That’s all right, I only just got here,” she replied, and smiled at him. “And before I could even blink, Hans arrived.”
The admiral nodded. “Hans is joining us for lunch, just for a while, and then we’ll have that time alone I need with you.”
“I understand,” she answered. The two men had already picked up their menus, and she did the same. Within a few seconds, the admiral beckoned for the waiter, who was by their side in an instant.
The waiter looked at her, and she said, “I’ll have the Wiener schnitzel, please. Nothing first.”
“Bockwurst sausage and red cabbage,” Oster ordered, and added, “I won’t have a first course, either.”
“Wiener schnitzel,” the admiral murmured. “And please pour the water, Gunther.”
Once this had been done, and the three of them were alone, the admiral leaned closer to Diedre, and asked, “When are you leaving Berlin?”
“Tomorrow, as planned. We are all returning to Zurich, and on Sunday afternoon I shall leave for London. I need to go back to work.”
“Are you returning alone to London? Or is the rest of your family traveling with you?”
Diedre shook her head. “Charlie is coming with me, he wants to prepare to go back to Oxford. Daphne and Hugo will spend another few days in Zurich, and then go home to Cavendon, and so will Cecily and Miles.”
“I see. That’s good, very good. Things are not going to be so easy on this continent, I’m afraid.” He had dropped his voice, and it grew lower still when he added, “I’m afraid for Czechoslovakia. Hitler has his beady eyes on Sudetenland, which can only lead to disastrous events.”
Diedre, taken aback, simply gaped at him. Sudetenland had been on everyone’s lips. But now? Sooner than they had thought, that was the truth.
Hans Oster’s brow drew together in a frown, and he murmured softly, “Surely Britain and France will intervene? Daladier and Chamberlain wouldn’t permit it.”
Canaris let out a deep sigh. “I’m afraid it is a given.”
Leaning in to the admiral, the major general whispered, “Talk to General Keitel. As Hitler’s chief of staff, surely he can talk him out of it.”
“He can’t. He’s tried and failed. In fact, it’s Keitel who told me to be prepared for the worst. And that was exactly twenty minutes ago. The Führer, seemingly, can’t be stopped.”
Oster’s face settled into hard lines and his eyes blazed with a furious glint. He took a deep breath and clasped his hands together in his lap, obviously striving to keep control of his flaring emotions.
Canaris spoke calmly. “Keep yourself steady, Oster. Our time will come. For the moment, we must play his game, while playing a double game. Ours.”
“Will he invade Britain?” Diedre asked quietly.
The admiral gave a small shrug. “You know, I honestly believe he doesn’t want to, not at all. I think he’d like to avoid it at all cost. He’s quite an Anglophile, you know. He loves the British aristocracy, admires the Royal Navy, and wants me to create a military intelligence division to rival Britain’s, which he considers the best in the world.”
“Are you saying he wants appeasement, that he would go along with Chamberlain?” she asked, drawing even nearer to him as she spoke.
“At the moment, yes. However…” The admiral stopped, and shook his head. “I never know what he’s going to come up with next. And that makes me fearful. Also, I truly believe there’s only so far the British government will go.”
“I wish to God Churchill were in power now, and not on the back benches,” Oster muttered, his face a picture of genuine dismay mingled with frustration.
* * *
Forty minutes later Major General Oster said his warm good-byes to Diedre and departed. Finally she and the admiral were alone. After ordering more coffee for them, he settled back in his chair, and said, “It’s a simple message I want you to pass on to William Lawson, Diedre. But it is extremely important.”
“You know I will relay it exactly.”
“I do indeed.”
After the waiter had brought the coffee, Canaris continued to speak in a soft voice. He told her what he wanted her to say to her boss. And he spoke for quite a long time.
GAMES OF CHANCE
Strong is the soul, and wise, and beautiful;
The seeds of godlike power are in us still;
Gods are we, bards, saints, heroes,
if we will!
—Matthew Arnold, “Written in Emerson’s Essays”
Nineteen
Harry Swann was angry. In fact, he was in a fury, and he had been for days. He now fully understood that Pauline Mallard had dropped him, and he didn’t understand why. Except that he really did. She did not love him, or at least not enough, to give up her life of ease, style, and international flitting around.
A deep sigh escaped him as he flipped up the collar of his white shirt, slipped the silk tie around his neck, and made a knot. He stood in front of the cheval mirror in his bedroom, getting dressed to keep an engagement he didn’t really need. Or want, for that matter.
But he had accepted the invitation and had left it too late to cancel, so he must go. What he really wanted to do was go out and chop wood to vent his anger. Or find a boxing training gymnasium in Leeds, and hit a punching bag for a couple of hours. Until he was exhausted, his anger spent.
After putting on his jacket, he went and sat down at the desk in front of the window, and looked at his engagement book. Today was Friday, August 12. On Saturday, the second, in the middle of the night, Pauline had telephoned him and explained she was leaving early on Sunday morning for London. She had no choice, she had murmured. Her husband had business in Paris and insisted she accompany him. She had sworn her undying love for him and promised to phone him every day.
An empty promise. He had not heard a word from her since. On Wednesday, Charlotte had asked him to take young Robin, Diedre’s son, to the dentist in Harrogate. He had done so. While waiting for Robin to have a tooth removed, he had driven around to Pauline’s house near the Stray, the stretch of common green land in the middle of town.
Harry had been flabbergasted to see the FOR SALE sign in front of her house. After parking his car, he had gone up the steps and rung the doorbell, knowing only servants would be there. It was Mrs. Ladlow, the cook, who had opened the door, and smiled broadly at the sight of him.
Cook, a friendly soul, had ushered him inside and confirmed that her employers had indeed left Harrogate. And for good. She confided they were planning to buy a house in Paris.
Keeping tight control of his emotions, Harry had thanked her, and turned to leave. On the doorstep, Mrs. Ladlow had told him she was looking for a job, should he know of anyone needing an excellent cook. He
said he would pass the word along.
Shock and disbelief had turned to anger and today it had become total fury. He shook his head. They had been right, his mother and his sister. Pauline Mallard had been using him. He had been her sex object, her means of slaking her overpowering sexual lust. Miles had suggested she was a nymphomaniac several months ago, and that any man would do for her as long as he was attractive and could get an erection if she merely smiled provocatively.
I’ve been a fool, he muttered under his breath, and turned the page, noted that Diedre and Charlie were coming back to London in a couple of days, and so were Miles and Cecily; Daphne and Hugo would be home here at Cavendon in time for tea on Sunday, the twenty-first.
Closing the engagement book, he sat back in the chair for a moment, and closed his eyes. How he had missed them—each and every one. They were his family, his world, as was Cavendon. Yes, his whole world, and he knew, suddenly, and with a flash of insight into himself, that this was where he belonged.
He could never leave here, traipse around the hot spots of the world with the likes of Pauline Mallard. He would be viewed as her gigolo, her plaything. Anyway, he wanted a child. Children. And she was too old. He had always desired a family. A wife and children to love. That was what life was all about, what made it worthwhile.
Downstairs, the grandfather clock struck three, and he realized he must get a move on. He must leave at once. He wanted to walk across to see his mother first before driving to Burnside Manor. He groaned inside. Tea with Commander Jollion was not something he relished, but young Phoebe Bellamy had been very persuasive, and he had finally agreed to drive over to meet her family.
* * *
Alice Swann stood in her pantry, gazing at the gleaming jars that lined the shelves, a smile of pleasure flashing across her face. How beautiful they were … her bottled purple plums, snow-white pears, green gooseberries, and pinkish-red rhubarb. And below them, on another shelf, bloodred beets, creamy-brown mushrooms, red cabbage, pickled onions, pickled cucumbers, and her very own special glowing yellow piccalilli.