Frowning at her, he exclaimed, “Did you know Adrianna Bellamy had so many daughters? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What for? You’re a grown man, you can take care of yourself.” Alice smiled knowingly. “I thought it would be a nice surprise for you. Would cheer you up. So, did you find one you like, pick one out?”
Harry couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing, and when he had calmed, he said, “It felt like one of them picked me, actually, Mother.”
“Really?” Alice looked at him quizzically, focusing on him intently. “Or are you teasing me, Harry Swann?”
“No, I’m not.” He took a sip of the single malt Scotch, then sat staring into the fire for the longest moment. Eventually, he told her exactly what had happened over tea, and Paloma’s reaction to him; he told her the truth. Harry had never lied to his mother in his life. She always knew everything about him.
Alice, who had listened intently, said, “Well, she is obviously interested in you. And since you responded so fast, with an invitation to see the gardens, you must be taken with her.”
“I suppose I am, but I must admit I’ve been a bit bewildered ever since. Only this afternoon, before I went over there, I was in a fury about Pauline’s behavior, believed I was in love with her, as you well know.” He shook his head. “I just don’t have a clue … I don’t know what to think about myself.”
“I know what to think about you, Harry. You’ve come to your senses, realized that Pauline Mallard isn’t the only woman in the world for you. As for being in love with her, I believe perhaps you were, in a certain way. Infatuated with her, taken with her looks, and then there was your sexual attraction to each other. Let me put it this way, you thought you were in love, because you had strong feelings. But now, well, you’ve fallen out of love. And so you should.”
Alice paused, then said, “Ceci phoned me this afternoon. She wanted me to know she and Miles will be leaving Zurich for London on Monday. They’ll stay in town through Tuesday, so she can go to the shop, then they are coming to Cavendon. They can’t wait to see the children.”
Harry nodded, and a smile surfaced. “I’m happy they’ll soon be back here, I’ve missed them.”
“I know that. So what about this young woman, Paloma?”
“Have you never met her, Mother?”
Alice shook her head. “No. I haven’t met any of Adrianna Bellamy’s daughters or sons. You see, they’ve only been coming here for a couple of years, and they don’t visit the village. Well, Adrianna has been to the WI with Mrs. Jollion, as I mentioned to you before.”
“She’s twenty-seven. Young Phoebe told me that,” Harry explained. “And she’s not like the others, who are either redheaded or blond. Paloma has black hair and bright blue eyes, almost violet in color, and she seems calm, serene, actually.”
“So you liked her?”
“I did.”
“Who is Paloma’s father? Do you know?”
“Of course Phoebe is a mine of information. Paloma’s the daughter of Edward Glendenning, the actor.”
“Oh goodness, yes, I know who he is. So she takes after him in looks?”
“Yes. I gather she’s a professional photographer, and likes taking pictures of nature. Also, according to Phoebe, she has her own flat in London, as do the other two older girls. And that’s it. I did enjoy meeting them. The whole family is nice. But they are rather bohemian, I think.”
“Aunt Charlotte has indicated that. She’s friendly with Mrs. Jollion, who likes her sister-in-law, Adrianna, apparently, and enjoys having the whole brood to stay.”
“They were very warm, Mother, and I must say the younger ones, the Bellamy children, are well behaved, polite, and I found them all easy to be with. One thing struck me very forcibly, Commander and Mrs. Jollion really do adore them.”
“They bring a lot of joy into that house,” Alice murmured. “And I’m not surprised they are well brought up, the Jollions are an aristocratic family, famous in Yorkshire. You may not know this, but only Jollions have lived in Burnside Manor since it was built in Elizabethan times.”
“I didn’t know, I’ve only been inside a couple of times when Mrs. Jollion has wanted some gardening advice.”
“I realize that. Oh, and there’s another thing, Harry, Adrianna’s first husband is titled. He is Sir Alan Robertson, so you know manners abound, if nothing else.”
“Oh there’s much more than manners, I think. Much more.”
* * *
Harry Swann felt full of vitality as he walked through Cavendon Park on Saturday morning. He was wearing his riding togs, as he always did on Saturday when he toured the estate. He was looking forward to riding, and his spirits were high; he was in a good mood.
Approaching the gazebo, he was surprised to see a woman hurrying down from Cavendon Hall. As he drew closer, he realized it was Paloma Glendenning. She saw him, and waved, then increased her pace, started running toward him.
Wondering why she was there, he began to run himself, and they literally bumped into each other and came to a stop. She almost fell; he grabbed her arms tightly and kept her upright. She clung to him, steadying herself. “Are you all right, Paloma?”
She nodded. “Thank you for keeping me upright. We don’t need another bad fall in the family.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s why I’m here, to tell you about my father’s fall. Off a horse. He insists on doing his own riding in films. My mother got a phone call last night. He’s in the hospital in London. He has a broken shoulder.”
“I’m very sorry to hear it, Paloma. A broken shoulder is a nasty injury, very painful. How can I help you?”
“You can’t. But I wanted to tell you myself that I can’t come to photograph the gardens tomorrow. I have to go to London with my mother.”
He was disappointed, but said, “I understand. Could we meet when I’m in London? I would like to see you again.”
“I think that would be lovely,” she answered.
“I’m due for a few days off next week. How do I find you, Miss Glendenning?”
“I’ve written my phone number down for you.” She reached into the pocket of her jacket, took out a piece of paper and gave it to him.
“Thank you,” he said, and put it safely away in his inside breast pocket. “I might be in town next week. How does that sound?”
“It has a happy ring to it. I’ve got to go drive back to Burnside, I have to pack.”
She had moved away from him, cried in a light, happy voice, “Be careful of horses, Harry!” With a wave she was gone, running back the way she had come.
What an extraordinary young woman, he thought, and took the piece of paper out of his pocket. Underneath the phone number was written P.T.O. He turned the paper over. There was a message: Please don’t lose this. Paloma.
He smiled to himself, put the paper back in his pocket for safekeeping, and walked on up to his office, thinking of Paloma.
Twenty-two
It was a brilliantly sunny morning when Diedre arrived at the War Office building in Whitehall. She pushed open the heavy wood door and decided to walk up the stairs. She liked the exercise, and also never grew tired of admiring the architecture in this mellow old building as seen from the wide stairs.
Miles and miles of corridors on seven floors housed a thousand offices dealing with the management and running of the British army. She had nothing to do with that at all. In fact, she did not work for the War Office. This was cover for a special group which she was part of, and had also worked with during the Great War.
The group had been founded in 1907 by a brilliant young colonel in military intelligence, and gone from strength to strength over the years. The young colonel had finally retired in the 1920s after an extraordinary career, and building this special intelligence crew into a great unit.
Small, clandestine, the unit was now run by William Lawson, who was answerable only to the prime minister. That was the way it had originally been set up, and
it was so top secret only a very few people knew of its existence, including the head of the Secret Intelligence Service, known as MI6.
The small clutch of offices was on the fifth floor, at one end of a long corridor. The small brass plate on the door was engraved with a meaningless name: Administration Bureau. Its door was always locked. Its real name was Special Secret Undercover Unit. Those who worked in its ranks simply called it Sue, which served as a clever code name.
When she arrived at the door, Diedre unlocked it and went inside, locking it behind her. It was mandatory that the inside front door be locked at all times even when people were there.
Snapping on the light in the entrance foyer, she went down a short hallway to her own office, unlocked it, and went over to her desk. She had only just seated herself when the phone began to ring.
Lifting it immediately, she said, “Hello? Who is this?”
“Is that Daffy Dilly?”
“Yes, Toby. Where are you?” she asked, pleased to hear his voice.
“At work. Best to speak our speak. If you get my drift.”
“I do. Equipment uncertain? Is that it?”
“Not sure. I wanted to tell you about a great caviar.”
“I’d love to hear,” Diedre answered, knowing he was referring to Princess Irina, to whom they had given the code name of Caviar. Valiant had been code-named Source. For this situation.
“The caviar lived up to your expectations. You will want to try it again, once you’ve tasted it. And the source is good.”
“All this is nice to know, Toby. I wish I were there in Berlin.”
“I do too, because I’m going to be partaking of the caviar next week.”
“I don’t think I can make it. So sorry,” Diedre said.
“By the way, on the matter of that suitcase, no problems. It can be handled very nicely and quite quickly. What shall I do?”
“How wonderful and the quicker the better. Process it fast, that’s what you should do.”
There was a moment or two of silence, a hesitation on the Berlin end of the phone.
“Toby, are you there?” Diedre asked urgently.
“Very quickly,” he agreed. “I am here. Somebody just put their head around my door, that’s all. I waved them away. Proceed.”
“I understand. So, all is well in general then?”
“Not exactly,” Toby replied quietly, sighing for emphasis.
“What does that mean?” she asked, her voice rising.
“An unfortunate development,” Toby said.
Diedre clutched the receiver tighter. “What’s wrong, Toby? I know there’s a problem. I can hear trouble in your voice!”
“I think we have to buy a pair of bed socks … to put on someone who needs them.”
“Who?” Diedre asked tersely, understanding that one of the Steinbrenners had cold feet about the exit. They had been using this speaking code for several years and she and Tony were accustomed to it by now and very adept.
“Pink,” Toby finally said. “Pink bed socks would be best.”
“Very well, that’s what I’ll buy. Small, medium, or large?”
“Large, I’m afraid.”
“Anyone else on the in?”
“Moi. Only moi. And that’s the way it must be. Agreed? No tittle-tattle.”
“I agree with that. So, what can I do to help you? It’s you who’s in Berlin … with the suitcase, I mean. And the problems.”
“Nothing for the moment. I believe Daddy Bear will make some good moves,” he replied quietly.
“That must happen. And very fast. We cannot leave the caviar out, by the way, it could be bad, which would be a shame. Also, it might, no, would upset the source.”
“Spot-on. Where will you be visiting at the weekend? No doubt where the heather blooms and the robin sings.”
“Exactly. I need to hear the robin sing, as you can well imagine. Shall I give you a tinkle?”
“Yes, please. Usual day and time, usual place.”
“It’s a done deal.”
“All the deals will be done by next week.”
I hope to God you’re right, Diedre thought but said, “Let’s keep it all under a cat’s hat.”
“Sure will, Daffy Dilly.”
* * *
Diedre sat back in her chair, glancing at the clock on the desk as she did. It was exactly eight o’clock, the usual time she came in, and as always she was the first to arrive. She thought about Cecily, knowing she must speak to her as soon as possible, but then decided to leave it for a little longer.
Staring into space, she went through Tony’s words again. Princess Irina was obviously true to her word. Valiant had come through with the necessary documents. But now Mrs. Steinbrenner was having cold feet about leaving Berlin. Probably because of fear they would be caught fleeing and instantly killed.
But then they would die anyway if they remained in Nazi Germany. So many people were being targeted and shot in cold blood. Or they just disappeared, never to be seen again. Thousands were herded into the concentration camps, or sent to slave camps.
Why were they called concentration camps? The proper name for those hideous places was death camps. Death stole them immediately.
Tony had told her last week that there was a terrible system in use. People were told they were going for showers, made to undress, and then ushered into the shower stalls. But water did not flow. Gas did. And they died. And those barbaric guards pried out their teeth for the gold, and stole their wedding rings and watches. And what other few possessions they had brought with them.
A shudder swept through her at the mere thought of these heinous crimes being committed in a so-called civilized country. Monsters had taken over. No wonder Valiant was disgusted and furious and anti-Nazi at this foul brutality … and that’s why he did what he could to fight against the regime, and save people. And why he had joined the generals who wanted to overthrow Adolf Hitler.
The telephone shrilled again, and Diedre reached for it. “Hello? Who is this?”
“Hello, Diedre darling, it’s me,” Cecily said. “When your phone didn’t answer at home, I knew I’d find you at work. Which is exactly where I am right now.”
Diedre laughed. “And I suppose you’ve been there for at least two hours.”
“No, I haven’t. Anyway, I need your advice. I didn’t want to say anything at all to Greta, not without first talking to you. I know the professor told her we met at the embassy, because he explained that he had when we had lunch last Friday … I don’t want to make any mistakes.”
“You can tell her everything that happened when you were at the embassy, and at your lunch, because I’m sure he’s filled her in. But you can’t give her any hope that they will ever get out. You just mustn’t.”
“I understand,” Cecily replied in a more subdued voice. “I had hoped against hope that something might happen when you were in Berlin, but it didn’t, did it?”
“I’m so very sorry, Ceci, but no, I wasn’t able to get help for them. Tony said he was glad we were leaving, actually, because things were getting more fraught in Berlin. And who knew what would happen. He said that he’d heard Hitler was on some sort of rampage, throwing tantrums in the Reich Chancellery and shouting about a world war.”
“Oh God, that sounds so awful! The poor Steinbrenners.”
Diedre exclaimed swiftly, “Don’t tell her what Tony told me, it will only frighten her, Ceci.”
“I won’t, I promise. It would frighten anybody with a family unable to get out of there most especially. If she asks me anything, like were we able to find anyone to help, what shall I say?”
“Do you think she will?” Diedre wondered out loud. “I’m not so sure of that. But should she bring it up, say that you’d heard from me, who’d heard from an attaché at the British embassy, that all the exit visas have dried up and no one is able to get out anymore. Which is the truth.”
There was a small silence, and then Cecily said in a sorrowful voice,
“I wonder how she will ever bear this? In a certain way, she was always sure they would somehow make it.”
“She is close to you, and you will be able to help her, Cecily. And I will too, if you need me. I’ll do whatever I can,” Diedre said in a low tone. “You know that. You only have to ask me.”
“Oh, I do know, Diedre. And I’m aware what a good person you are. Anyway, I’ve got to buck up and get on with it. I’ve a busy day. Are you coming to Cavendon for the weekend?”
“You can be certain of that. I can’t wait to see my Robin.”
Twenty-three
After hanging up on Diedre, Cecily turned her attention to the papers spread out on her desk. Mostly they were lists of the factories they used, and also those women who sewed the haute couture Cecily Swann clothes by hand.
She sat back in her chair, her mind working rapidly, knowing that a whole lot of new plans about manufacturing and the creation of clothes would have to be made. As she sat writing notes she began to feel overly warm on this August morning, and stood up, went to open a window.
The noises of Piccadilly came flowing in, reminding her that a new working day was starting in this city she loved so much. She glanced down into the street and saw Aunt Dorothy walking toward this building, where her new offices were located. Cecily had bought it in 1934, and it had been an excellent investment. As the business had rapidly expanded, there was plenty of space to hold the growing staff, and a whole floor had been converted into several rooms where certain accessories were made by hand, such as fabric flowers and the silk scarves.
Within a few minutes, Dottie was hurrying into Cecily’s office, exclaiming, “Good morning, Ceci, sorry I’m late.”
Cecily laughed. “Good morning, Dottie, and you’re not late, you’re early. It’s not even nine.”
“Lots of traffic,” Dorothy Pinkerton murmured, as she walked across the floor and sat down in the chair on the other side of Cecily’s desk.
Although she was now fifty-five, Dorothy was still a good-looking woman, with a trim figure, who looked easily fifteen years younger.
She continued to manage Cecily Swann Couture, and had retained her office in the Burlington Arcade shop, just as Cecily continued to use her design studio over there, as well as this office in Grafton Street.
The Cavendon Luck Page 15