Under the Moon Gate

by Marilyn Baron

  “Maybe he’s Roosevelt’s man on the island,” the vice admiral continued, his imagination running wild as he watched the man lay his lips on his daughter’s mouth. “An agent with the OSS. I know the Americans have a cadre of people here. There are so many petty rivalries between the agencies in Washington that no one hand knows what the other is doing. And Roosevelt is the puppeteer. You know how he and Churchill love their secrets. Have to mastermind everything.”

  “Men and their war games,” sighed Olivia.

  “I’ll bloody well know who the cad is before he starts cavorting with my daughter.”

  “Cavorting with a cad? Dear, you can be so priggish sometimes. Remember when you were courting me? As I recall, your hands were doing quite a bit of roaming of their own.”

  “That was another matter. This is our daughter we’re talking about.”

  “Oh, quite,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I’m coming with you, to soften the blow.” She smiled. “You can be overwhelming and, at times, gruff.”

  “Me, gruff?” he purred, as he eased his wife to the other side of the ballroom.

  The band was playing, and the blond man was still dancing dreamily with Diana, cheek to cheek, heart to heart, like there was no one else around. His hands were cupping her face, entwined in her hair, kissing her lips, seducing her. She wore a look of rapture. The vice admiral was determined to put a stop to this outrageous display of emotion.

  “Ahem. Diana, aren’t you going to introduce me to your…to the man who is practically draped all over you?”

  “It’s William, sir,” William said quickly, before a flustered Diana had a chance to speak.

  “Yes, William,” Diana said evenly, recovering, as she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’d like you to meet my father, Vice Admiral Sir Stirling Hargrave, and my mother, Olivia Smithfield Hargrave. Mother, Daddy, this is William.”

  The vice admiral continued to direct his attention to his daughter’s partner. He had always considered himself a tall man, but he had to look up at the interloper.

  “You, sir. I don’t like the liberties you are taking with my daughter.”

  ****

  William stiffened.

  “Your daughter, sir?” Damn. He had to go and fall for the daughter of the one man on the island he absolutely could not afford to tangle with.

  “Quite. I don’t think I heard your last name.”

  “Name, last name, sir. I didn’t give it, sir, but it’s Whitestone. William Whitestone.”

  “Any relation to the Northampton Whitestones?”

  “No, sir. I don’t believe so, sir.”

  “I’ll bloody well have you checked out. And I’m going to keep my eye on you.”

  “Checked out?” Diana wailed. “Must you investigate everyone I go out with? Daddy, he’s just a man, not a war criminal. I’m only dancing with him.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Olivia whispered some soothing words into her daughter’s ear and turned to William.

  “William, if you’re serious about seeing our daughter, then I’d like to invite you to come around next Sunday for brunch, so we can all get to know each other,” she offered.

  “So I can get my hands on you,” the vice admiral grumbled.

  “Right, sir, Mrs. Whitestone, next Sunday. Looking forward to it. Thank you.” He shook the vice admiral’s hand and hoped his nerves weren’t showing.

  Of all the women on the island, he had to choose the pampered and well-loved daughter of an English vice admiral and the matron of Bermuda society.

  “What did your mother have to say?” he asked Diana, visibly shaken after her parents walked away.

  “My mother says you couldn’t possibly be a spy. Your obvious blond good looks would arouse too much suspicion.”

  He frowned.

  “Let’s see if we can’t manage to arouse something else,” she taunted. She appeared to be more relaxed now, and satisfied that her parents would eventually come around, since they had invited William to the house.

  “Diana, I do believe you’re a dangerous woman. Dangerous and desirable.”

  “Are you, then?” she teased.

  “Am I what?” he asked.

  “A German spy?” Her lips curled seductively.

  “Don’t even joke about something like that at a time like this,” he warned.

  She was slowly driving him crazy. The look of her, the feel of her, the smell of her. She was invading his senses, and he was spinning out of control. He pulled her possessively back into his arms and refused to give her up for the rest of the evening.

  Chapter 9

  Hamilton, Bermuda

  One Week Later

  On Sunday, William arrived exactly on time to the vice admiral’s house for brunch. He could have driven his car. Befitting his status as the CEO of Bermuda Power Company, he was one of the few people on the island, with the exception of certain high-ranking military personnel, who had access to one. Everyone else rode the train, bicycled, traveled on foot, or rode in a horse and buggy. But William sensed that the very proper vice admiral would have frowned on an obvious display of wealth from a man out of uniform.

  Instead, William rode comfortably in a wicker chair in the first-class carriage of the Bermuda Railway, which had opened less than a decade earlier and stretched the length of the island from the eastern tip of St. George’s, Bermuda’s original capital, to Somerset Parish in the west.

  The Bermuda Railway was a far cry from the swift, efficient trains of Zurich that had rushed him through the mountain passes to every capital in Europe, but the steady rhythm of the rails took him back to that earlier time.

  Sometimes a rendezvous would bring him painfully close to Dresden and to his Emilie. He’d promised to leave his past, to leave Emilie, his first love, behind. He’d cut off their relationship without even a goodbye. He’d tried to put Emilie out of his mind and his heart forever and never look back. But they couldn’t control his thoughts and, even after all these years, he was having trouble letting go of the memories.

  Memories that haunted him at the most inconvenient times. Memories of her sweetness, of how beautiful she looked in her garden. On the day of their parting, only William had had the advantage of knowing he would never see Emilie again, not until after the war, maybe never. So he’d memorized her face. And made that last day, their last time together, count. It was selfish of him to use her that way. To Emilie, it was just another glorious day to be spent together. There would be a lifetime of others, or so she thought.

  When he’d turned toward her a final time, he had whispered faintly, “There may come a time when I’ll have to leave you. I may be called away suddenly, and I won’t know when I’ll be back.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” she assured him, “forever, if I have to.”

  He wondered if she was still waiting. So many times he had been tempted to go to her, surprise her and say, “I’m back, my darling.”

  And she’d ask, “Forever?”

  And he’d answer with finality, “Yes. This time, forever.” Then he would take her away with him where no one could find them. But that tender reunion took place only in his dreams.

  The balmy Bermuda weather seemed a world away from the snow-covered villages of Switzerland. It put him in mind of the years he’d spent away from Dresden, away from home and family, away from Emilie, establishing his new identity as a partner in a Swiss engineering consulting firm. He was a ghost, the years before his life in Switzerland smoothly erased as if Wilhelm von Hesselweiss had never existed. They could erase his past, but would he ever really be able to escape it?

  William got off at the bustling city of Hamilton and headed toward the Front Street shops. He stopped at Trimingham’s and noticed a tweed topcoat and a handsome double-breasted navy serge suit in the store window that would make nice additions to his wardrobe. Yesterday he had purchased a bottle of five star brandy and a bottle of Chilean wine at Gosling Brothers to bring to the vice admiral, so
me flowers for his wife, and some Australian raspberry jam and biscuits at Trimingham’s for teatime.

  Crossing over to the waterfront, William bought a ticket and rode the ferry to the stop closest to the vice admiral’s house. Once off the boat, he walked the rest of the way, passing several Invest in Democracy and Victory posters that encouraged people to buy War Savings Certificates.

  William admired the vast estate. He’d done his research. It belonged officially to Diana’s mother, he knew, a large white stucco house set like a sparkling gem against the clear blue sky overlooking Hamilton Harbour. Despite the breathtaking views and the simple profile of its traditional lime-washed roofline, distinctive angles, architectural accents, and stone-stepped chimneys, William had the secret pleasure of knowing his own house was even more magnificent. Soon he would show them. His house would make a big impression on the status-conscious Hargraves.

  ****

  The topic at brunch was the topic of discussion at the table in every other household in Bermuda. The island was buzzing with the news of the upcoming visit of the Duke of Windsor and his wife, the divorcée Wallis Simpson, who had been granted permission to stop over for a visit to Bermuda on their way from Lisbon to the Bahamas.

  “Just think how he must feel, going from being the king of England to governor of the Bahamas,” said Sir Stirling, as he dug into his toast and eggs. “No doubt he and the duchess will want to leave London and all the talk far behind them.”

  “I wonder what she’ll wear?” Olivia said. “I’d like to get a good look at her jewelry, too.”

  I’m curious about how many people are in the visiting party—maids, valets, and the like,” said Diana.

  “They’ll be staying at Government House, but I think I will have a private reception for them here,” Sir Stirling continued. “And of course, Diana, you’re invited, and William, too, if you’d like to join us. I think we’ll arrange to be waiting on the wharf when the S.S. Excalibur drops anchor and Their Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess of Windsor arrive in the Admiral’s barge and disembark at the public steps at Albuoy’s Point. I expect there will be thousands lining the streets. The governor plans to greet them with a military guard of honor and an informal welcome ceremony.” Diana’s father paused long enough to swallow half a cup of tea before continuing.

  “William, I’ve been asked to join the duke for golf at the Mid-Ocean Club. He’s visited the Colony before, and he’s played golf here, but the duchess has never been to Bermuda.”

  “I’ve read there will be fifty-eight different pieces of luggage and, of course, their cairn terriers,” Diana interjected. “Naturally, mother and I have to have new outfits.”

  “Naturally,” echoed Sir Stirling. “Since when have you needed an occasion to justify buying a new outfit? William, maybe you and I will each try one of those single-breasted suits, in chalk stripes or herringbone.”

  “I hear the duchess will be wearing a pink-and-blue all-over dress of satin-faced crepe, with a bow at the bodice and a bright royal-blue full-length coat with elbow sleeves,” offered Olivia. “I wonder how she’ll wear her hair.”

  “Don’t care much for her looks, myself,” said the vice admiral. “She’s a bit horsey for my tastes. But the crowds adore her, apparently, and everyone she meets find her courteous and charming.”

  “No doubt the duke will be quite tan and fit. He’s a sailor, you know,” Olivia challenged, her eyes twinkling.

  “As am I,” the vice admiral growled.

  “Of course you are, dear. I didn’t mean anything by that.”

  “Harrumph.”

  “How long do you think they’ll stay?” Olivia asked sweetly, trying to wriggle back into her husband’s good graces.

  “I have no idea how long the party will be in Bermuda,” he answered. “They’re waiting for orders from London. I imagine he’ll feel far away from the war here. Naturally, the women’s hearts are all aflutter over the man who gave up his throne for the woman he loves.”

  William wondered if anyone at the table was aware of the duke’s pro-Nazi sympathies. He didn’t think it would be prudent to bring that up. He did wonder about the former king’s abdication of his throne in December 1936. What would he, William, be willing to do for the woman he loved? What would he be willing to risk for Diana? Would he abandon his mission? Such traitorous thoughts had been filtering through his mind lately.

  ****

  While Diana’s mother spirited William away to show off the inside of the house, Diana’s father pulled her into the study.

  “I made some discreet inquiries about your young gentleman, ran his name through channels, and it was like bumping up against a brick wall, even with my clearance, but he checks out,” the vice admiral reluctantly admitted.

  “You actually had the man investigated?”

  “Bloody right, I did. Just a preliminary check for now. Did it for your own protection. And for Queen and Country. This is war.”

  “Well, that’s good to know,” said Diana as her stomach began to settle. She didn’t like going against her parents’ wishes, although she had tried their patience more than once in the past where young men were concerned. She’d neglected to tell her father she had seen William every day and night since the party at the Castle Harbour. Somehow, she’d managed to sneak out so they could be together. He had taken her dining and dancing, sailing, out for ice cream, and to see a movie at the Colonial Opera House Theatre. They had attended a soccer game and gone on a scooter ride to a secluded cove where they swam and snorkeled and, on the pink sandy beach, exchanged simmering, stolen kisses that left them both aching for more.

  She spent every free minute with him. He was so romantic and sophisticated. She didn’t care what her father dug up or manufactured about William, she was already in love with him. It had been love at first sight, a split-second shock, as electrifying as a lightning strike. And he seemed to be thunderstruck too. It was so exciting. All her girlfriends agreed. William was the one she had been waiting for. All she could think about when she was around William was what it would be like when they finally made love. She blushed and lowered her eyes.

  “I still don’t trust him,” said the vice admiral.

  “You don’t trust anyone who’s not wearing a uniform, Daddy. A British Navy uniform. Well, I do. And I think I might be falling in love with him. He says he wants to marry me.”

  “Isn’t that rather sudden?” the vice admiral demanded, alarmed. “You just met the man.”

  “Like you said, we’re at war, Daddy. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

  “Diana, don’t you know that’s the oldest line in the book? I used that line on your mother.”

  William and Olivia paused outside the study.

  “I assume your mother has had the proper talk with you,” her father fumbled awkwardly, lowering his voice.

  “Oh, Daddy, you’re such a dinosaur.”

  The vice admiral grumbled. “Then you and your mother are in agreement. She thinks I’m an old fossil.”

  “You know I don’t really think that,” she said and kissed his forehead. “I adore you, Daddy.”

  ****

  “Promise me you’ll be careful, and don’t rush into anything,” her father advised, looking nostalgically after his little girl as she ran to meet William, as if he knew he’d already lost her.

  “I won’t,” she assured him, but judging from the longing gaze she bestowed upon the man as the young couple walked off toward the parlor, arm in arm, the vice admiral somehow doubted the sincerity of her pledge.

  “I don’t suppose it would do any good to forbid her to see this boy, do you?” he asked Olivia when his daughter and her suitor were out of hearing range.

  “Remember what happened the last time? You forbade her to see that musician, and she almost ran off with him. She’s very headstrong. I wonder who she takes after?”

  “Harrumph,” was all the vice admiral could muster. “Diana said the boy was already speaking
to her about marriage.”

  “How is he going to support our daughter?” Olivia wondered.

  “That’s the strange part,” noted the vice admiral. “The man has enough money in the bank to buy the entire island and is on his way to doing just that. He’s purchased the old Gilbert estate in Tucker’s Town and renamed it Marigold House.”

  “Impressive,” Olivia noted. “That’s a very desirable and expensive property.”

  “It seems he’s materialized out of nowhere. Some type of wunderkind—was a partner in an engineering consulting firm in Zurich, comes from family money. Family background’s rather fuzzy—the father was a wealthy industrialist, I think. Died and left his fortune, lock, stock, and barrel, to his son.

  “Remember, in 1937, when Sir James Markham went missing in that mysterious boating accident and they needed someone to take his place at Bermuda Power? Whitestone’s qualifications were tailor made for the top job there, so the government brought him in on an emergency basis. He’s been very successful, so they asked him to stay on permanently.

  “He also has ownership control of the telephone company in some kind of joint venture arrangement with an overseas conglomerate. He’s already on the board of several of the banks on the island.”

  “I’ve asked some friends about him. They all agree he’s very good-looking—I mean, very forward-looking,” said Olivia.

  “We’re not arguing the pros and cons of the man’s looks,” said the vice admiral sourly. “It’s apparent to me that he’s more than forward. He’s insinuated himself into our daughter’s life. He’s got his finger in every pie. Why haven’t we run into him socially before?”

  “Maybe he’s trying to maintain a low profile,” Olivia suggested. “You know how discreet the Swiss are, darling.”

  “More like secretive,” the vice admiral said. “And there’s something about him. His record shows minimal compulsory military service, but the way he behaves around me, I’m certain he’s been under someone’s command. Or had his own command. Bad business all around. Smells bad.”