“I very much doubt that. Times are changing at a rapid pace. Don’t think the Führer doesn’t have his sights set on France. Is the professor going to phone Greta?”
“Yes, but only to tell her they’re coming and to meet us at the railway station.”
“I see.”
“It’s better that way, Diedre,” Tony murmured.
“Probably. Thanks for letting me know, and give me a ring on Sunday. I just want to know that you are safely back in London.”
“I will,” he said, and hung up.
Diedre stared at the phone and a long sigh escaped her. What an odd thing for a woman to do, abandon her husband and children and just disappear into oblivion. Well, some might do that to a husband. But to children? She couldn’t help thinking this was such a callous act on Heddy Steinbrenner’s part. Then again, as Aunt Charlotte was always saying, it takes all sorts to make a world.
Thirty-seven
Lady DeLacy Ingham was happy to be sitting in the main dining room at the Dorchester Hotel, sipping a lemonade while waiting for Diedre, and relaxing. Unexpectedly, it had become quite a busy morning at the art gallery, and she was thrilled to have made two very good sales. Important sales, in fact.
Glancing around, she saw that the restaurant was rapidly filling up, and she was glad she had made the reservation earlier in the week. But they would always find a table for her, no matter what.
Before Dulcie had moved to Hollywood with James, she and Dulcie had made the Grill Room their “canteen,” as Dulcie called it. They loved the food and the ambience, and the Dorchester Hotel was only a couple of minutes’ walk from the gallery in Mount Street and therefore convenient. She missed her baby sister, the most irreverent and funny of them all.
She smiled to herself, thinking of the way Cecily and Diedre always used the Ritz for the same reasons, while Daphne favored Brown’s Hotel for lunch and afternoon tea, as did Aunt Charlotte. Not that they worked and needed a nice place nearby, but they both liked the quiet, rather private atmosphere at Brown’s.
Lost as she was in her thoughts, DeLacy was startled when she heard a familiar voice saying, “Hello, darling! Mind if I sit down for a moment?”
Instantly focusing her eyes on her current boyfriend, Peter Musgrove, who was suddenly standing there, she exclaimed, “Peter! I thought you were going to Paris early this morning.”
“Well, can I sit down or not?” he asked, sounding suddenly terse.
“Of course you can,” she answered, and beckoned to the nearest waiter. To Peter she said, “What would you like to drink?”
“Pink champagne,” he said to the waiter now standing at the table, and then he sat down next to her.
“My client changed the time of the meeting. We’re now having dinner tonight. So I’m going on a later train. I’m en route to the station now, actually.”
“I see,” she murmured.
“I know your sister is joining you, so I won’t be staying long. I just wanted to ask you something, and it’s very important,” Peter announced.
DeLacy was relieved he sounded more like himself. She had come to realize in the last few months that he had something of a temper, and was an impatient man, a trait she disliked. So far she had managed to cope with these little frissons of anger but they were irritating. “I’m all ears.” She pushed a huge smile onto her face, and took a sip of lemonade.
“There’s a house in Cirencester I’ve been told about, a rather lovely house, actually, and I want you to come down and see it. Next weekend. Do say yes, DeLacy.”
“I’ll be happy to come and see it; however, I’m afraid I’m not available for the next few weekends. Daphne and I are working on a special project and that has to take precedence.”
The smile slipped off his face, and he said peevishly, “Why is it you’re never free on weekends? To be with me?”
“Because I go to Cavendon, and you know why. My father hasn’t quite been himself in the last few months, and he likes me to be there,” she said, realizing it was the umpteenth time she’d explained this. “I also do have that project with my sister.”
He was about to start a row with her, which he loved doing because he enjoyed ruffling her cool demeanor. Then he instantly changed his mind when he saw the tight set of her jaw, and the steel in those baby-blue eyes. She could be tough. Better not push her too much, or she might cut him off without a shilling, and so he flashed her his warmest smile, and reached out, clasped her hand for a moment.
He said, “Never mind. Perhaps we can go down and see it during the coming week?”
“I think that will be all right,” she replied, and sat back, looking at him carefully.
Vain and self-involved, puffed up with arrogance, he did not notice the appraising glint in her eyes, nor the way she had angled her body away from him. “As you know, I’ve been longing to find a place of my own, and I think this might be it,” he told her, adopting a level tone.
DeLacy simply nodded, and couldn’t help wishing that Diedre would arrive. “You’ll know if it is,” she said noncommittally, and went on, “Is your client interested in the Renoir you have? Or the Sisley?”
Peter Musgrove lifted the flute of champagne which had appeared in front of him. “Here’s to you, sweetheart.”
Silently, DeLacy lifted her glass of lemonade, then sat back, listened to him explaining the importance of the Impressionist paintings, and boasting that he would sell both to his client, one of the richest men in France. Because, after all, as she well knew, no one got higher prices than he did, or was as successful in the international art world.
Several minutes later, while he was still in the middle of his rant, Diedre arrived.
Peter had the good sense, and enough manners, to jump up at once. Smiling at Diedre, he said, “Please, sit here on the banquette next to DeLacy, Lady Diedre.”
“Thank you,” Diedre replied and did just that. After kissing her sister on the cheek, she stared at him intently as he lowered himself into the chair opposite DeLacy.
Knowing that Diedre wasn’t exactly pleased to see Peter, DeLacy gave her a long, knowing stare and explained his presence by saying, “Peter just stopped by for a moment. He’s actually on his way to Paris.” She glanced at her watch, then at him, and said pointedly, “I think you’d better be going, Peter. You don’t want to miss your train.”
Turning to Diedre, DeLacy added, “Peter is the best in the business when it comes to selling art, you know. He’s about to make a huge sale. A Renoir and a Sisley, no less.”
Peter beamed at her, always thrilled by flattery. He also knew when to scarper off while the going was good. He didn’t want to lose DeLacy, a hot little number whom he could so easily seduce into his bed at the flick of a finger. He guzzled down the rest of his champagne and stood up. “What would I do without you, DeLacy?” His eyes lingered on her suggestively. “You’re always looking after me … in one way or another, aren’t you now?”
DeLacy winced inside and merely inclined her head.
“Have a nice trip, Mr. Musgrove,” Diedre said in a cold voice, leaving no one in doubt that she longed for him to leave at once.
“Thank you, Lady Diedre.” He brought his head close to DeLacy’s cheek, murmured, “Can’t wait for next week. We’ll stay the night. Oh yes.” And then he was gone, fully aware he was not welcome.
Once they were alone, Diedre stared at DeLacy and said in a low voice, “I can’t believe he’s still hanging around. I thought you were going to get rid of him.”
“I was. I am. Frankly, I haven’t seen much of him recently. But, to be honest, he can be quite charming and entertaining, and he has sent me a lot of clients. I haven’t had the heart to be harsh. Or boot him out just yet, but I will.”
Diedre sighed. “I know he’s good-looking, film-star good-looking at that. And yet he’s just so … awful. I know he went to Eton and all that stuff, but he’s, well, he’s sort of common, Lacy.”
“He is, yes,” DeLacy answered,
and then thought, he’s also quite extraordinary in bed. She said, “I am going to get rid of him, I promise.”
“I don’t want to deprive you of male company, Lacy darling. God knows, you’ve not had an easy time of it.” She shook her head. “Oh well, you’ll know what to do and when to do it. Because you’re smart. I shall have a drink, I think.”
“You look as if you need one, Diedre. You must have had a hard week. You’re terribly tired, I think.” DeLacy sounded suddenly concerned.
“I am weary. That’s why I’m glad I’m going to Cavendon with you on the train this afternoon. I can’t wait.” Spotting a waiter, she waved him over and ordered a vodka and tonic.
DeLacy said, “Everyone’s going to be there this weekend—” She stopped, made a face. “Well, not everyone. I do miss Dulcie and James. But I hear they’re going to win their battle with Mr. Louis B. Mayer.”
Diedre couldn’t help laughing, as she always did, when DeLacy used this man’s full name. “I miss her and James too, and I can’t wait for them to get back to London. I simply ache to see them.”
“I know that feeling.” Leaning closer, DeLacy went on, “I made some rather good sales today, and there’ll be quite a nice chunk for the Cavendon Restoration Fund. Papa is worried about all the broken walls and fencing. He and Miles have been wittering on about it for months.”
Diedre looked at her younger sister and thought: How hardworking, uncomplaining, and wonderful she’s been all these years. Nine years, in fact. She exclaimed, “What a success you’ve made of the gallery, Lacy darling, and you’ve worked like a Trojan. What you’ve done to help Cavendon has been tremendous. You really do deserve to have anything you want, including…” She let her voice drop an octave, and finished, “The awful Mr. Musgrove, who’s no doubt a champion … in some ways.”
Although she felt herself flushing, DeLacy started to laugh.
* * *
DeLacy sat watching her sister sleeping on the train. Her face was pale, and DeLacy could see now how weary Diedre was. She also had seemed far away, rather troubled during lunch.
When the steward peered in the carriage, wanting to offer them afternoon tea, DeLacy just waved him away, and smiled warmly, then looked at her sister, so that he understood.
The man smiled back, nodded knowingly, and went on his way.
DeLacy drifted with her thoughts; she could not go to sleep. And eventually her mind focused on Peter Musgrove again. There was a bit more to him than met the eye. He was matinee-idol handsome, although not as tall as he ought to be in order to be really dashing. And his eyes were a bit small. But he did have considerable charm, and he was well educated, and from a good family. Also, he was a successful art dealer. On the other hand, he had a strange side to him, and it struck DeLacy now that Diedre had been right. He was a little common.
I’m not going to Cirencester with him, she decided. He said we would stay the night. That’s because he wants to lure me into bed. I must cut this off with him. The affair is going nowhere and I’m not in love with him. In lust though, she suddenly thought, remembering her brother saying that about Harry. Yes, that was it. Peter knew how to sexually arouse her, inflame and excite her as no other man ever had, not even her darling Travers …
She let all of these thoughts go, sat up straighter on the train seat, and took out a magazine determinedly. She wasn’t going to think about Peter Musgrove. She would deal with that matter next week. For all of her resolution, deep inside she knew she would go to Cirencester with him. She wouldn’t be able to resist him. Just one more time in his bed, she decided, and then I will break it off with him. I must.
* * *
Cecily was surprised when she saw Diedre standing in the doorway of her office in the annex, and she realized immediately how white she was and tired. She didn’t look well last night. This morning she appeared done in to the point of exhaustion.
Getting up, going around the desk, Cecily said, “Diedre, are you all right? You look so tired.”
“Hello, Ceci, and I am a bit. I need to talk to you. Just for a few minutes. Let’s go to the gazebo. Can we?”
“Yes. Come on, let’s go.” Cecily took hold of her sister-in-law’s arm and led her out of the annex, wondering if something terrible had happened.
Neither of them spoke as they walked through the park to the gazebo. It was a pleasant morning, rather cool, but the sun was out and the sky was periwinkle blue without a cloud.
Diedre relaxed as the peacefulness of Cavendon enveloped her, and she breathed deeply, enjoying the fresh air. Her family home always had a soothing effect on her.
Once they were seated in the gazebo, Cecily said, “I have a dreadful feeling you’re going to tell me something really bad. You are, aren’t you?” Cecily’s eyes did not leave Diedre’s face.
Diedre said, “The reason I look so done in is because I’m not sleeping well at the moment. We’ve an awful lot on at work. And yes, what I have to tell you is not all good news, I’m afraid.”
Cecily was silent, waiting for Diedre to speak.
Pausing for a moment, looking reflective, Diedre finally said, “I want to explain several things, and I would prefer it if you would just let me do the talking, get it all out. When I’ve finished, I’ll answer any questions. Is that all right with you?”
“It is. I’ll just sit and listen,” Cecily promised.
“As you know, Tony Jenkins came across a contact in Berlin, one involved with people helping Jews and dissidents to escape Berlin. I thought nothing had come of it, because he never mentioned it again to me. On Monday, Tony telephoned me. He wanted me to know he was leaving Berlin for Paris on Tuesday, because he was finishing his tour of duty earlier than expected. The next day, Wednesday, he phoned again, this time from the Plaza Athénée Hotel. He explained that he had escorted Professor Steinbrenner and the children out of Berlin with a friend of his. They are safe in Paris and will travel to London tomorrow. Greta will meet the boat train, and take them back to her house in Phene Street.” Diedre let out a small sigh, and said, “But I’m afraid Mrs. Steinbrenner is not coming at the moment.” Diedre sat back and eyed Cecily.
Startled though she was on hearing this unexpected good news, Cecily’s face filled with happiness. “How wonderful! Thank you so much, Diedre.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it, Ceci, neither did Tony really. The Steinbrenners’ exit was accomplished by an anti-Nazi group of young internationals, who obtained the proper travel documents, made the arrangements.”
“I understand. Greta must be thrilled … I can’t quite believe it … that her family are going to be safely here with her on Sunday. She’s been sick with worry about them. And why is her stepmother not coming with them?” Cecily asked this last question carefully.
“I really don’t know the answer to that.”
Cecily hesitated, before saying, “Is there some sort of problem hovering?”
Diedre did not answer this question. Instead, she said, “I think it’s better if outsiders don’t get entangled in someone else’s family affairs.”
Cecily stared at Diedre, and said in a low, concerned voice, “There’s something you’re not telling me, Diedre. I’ve known you all my life, and I can read you so easily. What are you holding back?”
Taking a deep breath, Diedre jumped in. “In my opinion there’s some sort of trouble in the Steinbrenners’ marriage.” Swiftly, she told Cecily about Heddy Steinbrenner’s reluctance to leave Berlin, how she’d been forced onto the train, her disappearance on Wednesday, Elise’s confidences to Tony, and how Heddy had just disappeared into thin air.
“But how odd,” Cecily cried. “Her behavior is weird, unbelievable.”
“Better believe it, because it happened,” Diedre replied succinctly.
“Is that all you know?” Cecily stared at her sister-in-law.
“How could I know anything else?” Diedre added, “I can conjecture, make assumptions, but what help is that?”
�
�It isn’t,” Cecily muttered, frowning to herself. Suddenly she said, “Could she have done these disappearing acts to go and meet someone? What do you think, Diedre?”
“That you’re much too clever for your own good, Mrs. Miles Ingham!” Diedre let out a hollow laugh. “I have to admit, I came to the same conclusion. On the other hand, I have no explanation for this disappearing act.”
Cecily shook her head. “Like you, I’m baffled but suspicious. Let’s say there is another person. Someone she didn’t want to leave behind. How could that person suddenly be in Paris?”
Diedre frowned and said in a stern, warning voice, “What I believe is that Heddy Steinbrenner is a problem, the professor’s problem. Not yours or mine. You must not get involved, Cecily. Promise me you won’t.”
“I promise.”
“Who can guess why she’s vanished, or why she would risk staying in Europe instead of coming to England with her husband and children. And who knows what it might cost her.” Diedre shook her head, her expression unreadable.
Cecily said in a low voice, “I bet you anything it’s a man. Women do strange and crazy things because of men.” Sitting forward, gazing at Diedre, she went on, “Now will you please tell me why you can’t sleep? Is there something else really troubling you?”
“Many things, Ceci. Work, the coming war, bringing up Robin, lots of things which seem to have become enormous in my mind.”
“I’m going to make sure you have a lovely, really restful, happy weekend, Diedre. Cavendon will cheer you up.” Cecily stood. “Come on. Let’s go and have a cup of tea and find the children. Oh, and by the way, can I tell Miles the news about the Steinbrenners?”
Diedre noddeed, and forced a smile onto her face. “It’s a good idea to go and look for our children, and being home with the family is always lovely. I’ll be able to relax.” But would she? If the Steinbrenner problem was partially solved, certainly her concern about Will Lawson had not gone away. She had come to understand she was in love with him. But there was nothing she could do about that. Not ever. He was forbidden to her.
The Cavendon Luck Page 26