by Rhys Bowen
I nodded. “Yes. Fun-loving.”
“She must be married by now, I suppose? Some chap will have snapped her up.”
“No, she’s still single. Hasn’t found the right man yet.”
“A pity.” He stared out past me to the lake, which was still shrouded in mist. “That she was not suitable for my family, I mean. I liked her a lot. I think we could have had a happy life. Religion can be so annoying, don’t you think?”
“I hope it won’t be for me and my fiancé,” I said.
“Don’t misunderstand what I say,” he said hastily because his mother and uncle had now fallen silent. “Camilla is a good person. A devout person. But one could never call her fun.”
I thought of the conversation I had overheard in Rudi’s bedroom. Paolo didn’t seem like the sort of person who would easily forgive a straying wife. I was in midthought about this when Camilla herself entered. She was wearing navy linen trousers and a striped nautical top with a white jacket over it. Her face looked quite tense but broke into a smile when she saw me.
“Oh, Georgie. You’re already up. Lovely. Have you had something to eat? Should I ask Cook to boil an egg for you?”
Much as I would have loved an egg I told her that I was quite happy with the rolls.
“It took me a while to get used to Continental habits,” she said. “How are you, mio caro?” She put a hand on Paolo’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to mass today. I must have overslept.”
Again I shot a look at her. Was there a reason for her oversleeping? She did look quite pale and tired. Then I wondered if there might be another reason—perhaps there was a baby on the way. I wasn’t sure how long they had been married, but producing the heir seems to be the most important thing for great families.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and came over to join us by the window. “I hope this mist will clear,” she said. “Some of our guests were suggesting we take a picnic to one of the islands today.”
“Good idea,” Paolo said. “We’ll have to wait and see. No sense in making the trip if there is no view.”
“Absolutely not.” She turned to me. “You haven’t been to Isola Bella yet, have you, Georgie?” I shook my head. “The gardens are so beautiful, and the view back to the shore—stunning.”
I realized I’d have to find an excuse not to join them at the picnic, but I couldn’t claim illness now or she might put it off until I was well. So I gave an excited sort of smile and went back to my roll. One by one our fellow guests appeared. Camilla made the announcement that a picnic on the island had been suggested.
It wasn’t met with much enthusiasm in some quarters. “Honey, we were on a boat most of yesterday,” Mrs. Simpson said. “I don’t think I’m keen on another watery day.”
“Oh, but you haven’t seen Isola Bella,” I said, coming to Camilla’s aid. “I’m told it’s spectacular.”
“I think I’d rather go shopping.” Mrs. Simpson turned to the prince. “Is there a town or something around here where one can buy things? Shoes and gloves, I mean. I do adore Italian leather.”
“The closest big town would be Milan,” Camilla said.
“Wallis, I’m not motoring all the way back to Milan so you can buy more shoes,” my cousin said. “You must have a thousand pairs anyway.”
“But shopping makes me happy, David.” She reached out her hand to pat his leg.
“I thought I made you happy,” he said.
“You do, my darling. But so does shopping.”
I thought I detected a derisive snort from the dowager countess.
“We’ll stop over in Milan on the way home,” the Prince of Wales promised.
“Didn’t your father want you to rush back for . . . whatever it was this time?” Mrs. Simpson said with annoyance in her voice.
“I do have duties to perform, you know. My father is not a well man. I have to take my share of the family firm’s responsibilities.” He gave a nervous chuckle.
“I do not think this will be a good day for boating on the lake.” The general peered out into the mist. “This fog is thick. Dangerous, I believe.”
“It should lift later,” Camilla said. “It usually does. But I’ll hold off on telling Cook about the picnic until we’re absolutely sure we’re going.”
“Why don’t you ladies go?” Max said. “It seems to be your idea.”
“Oh wonderful, you want to send us off into the fog alone,” Mummy replied tartly. “Now that’s chivalry for you.”
This made everyone laugh and broke any tension there might have been. We went our separate ways after breakfast, but I couldn’t attempt to do any snooping with guests wandering in and out of rooms and reading newspapers in odd corners. I just had to hope that the mist would lift and they would go. By eleven it was still cold and misty and I despaired of anything happening that day. Then miraculously, around noon the last strands of mist dissipated and the sun shone from a brilliant blue sky.
“You see, we can go after all,” Mummy said, standing up to look out at the lake. “I knew it would work out.”
“I’ll go and tell Cook,” Camilla said. “And, Paolo, you should tell Marco that we will want both the launches. We can’t all pack into one.”
“If you’re sure about this,” he said.
“Why wouldn’t I be sure? It’s a perfect chance to show our guests the beauties of the area.” She sounded rather huffy as she went off.
Hampers were carried down to the dock. I waited until the advance party had already set off down the drive, then I cornered Camilla. “I hope you don’t mind if I don’t join you,” I said. “I’ve just come down with one of my headaches, and the only thing to do is to lie in a dark room until it passes.”
She was instantly solicitous. “Oh, you poor thing. I get migraines too sometimes. So beastly, aren’t they? What can we get you?”
“Nothing, thank you.” I tried to sound weak and suffering. “Please don’t worry about me. Look after your guests. I’ll be fine if I can just rest alone.”
“If you’re sure. I don’t mind staying back to keep you company. I’ve been to the island hundreds of times.”
“Oh no. Please go,” I said. “There’s really nothing anyone can do and I hate to spoil your day. I will be fine if I can just rest for a while, I promise.”
“Very well.” She nodded and went to find the others.
I watched from the window as they were helped, one by one, onto the sleek teak launches and off they went. A feeling of euphoria came over me. I was free to get on with my task. And the first thing I wanted to try was to get into Rudi’s room. I had just gone upstairs and was standing in the hallway outside his door when Gerda appeared behind me in that unnerving way of hers.
“Lady Georgiana?” she demanded.
I spun around, trying not to look guilty. “Oh, Gerda. I didn’t go with the others because I am not feeling well,” I said. “I’m just on my way to lie down.”
“So the contessa told me. I came to see if you would like some broth, maybe? Or an egg?”
I realized that I’d better eat or I’d get nothing until dinner. “Thank you. I should have something nourishing,” I said as I opened my own door. “Maybe I could manage broth and an egg.”
“I will fetch immediately.” She set off briskly down the hall. I went into my room, closed the drapes and lay on the bed, trying to look like the Lady of the Camellias. She returned with a small bowl of clear soup, a boiled egg and thinly sliced bread. As soon as she had gone I gobbled them up. Not exactly enough food for a healthy young woman, but it would have to do.
She came for my dishes a little later and nodded approval that I had eaten everything. “Soon you will be better, I am sure,” she said.
“I hope so. Now I’ll sleep while it’s nice and quiet and I’m not likely to be disturbed.” I hoped she took the gentle
hint.
I waited until she had gone, then I tiptoed to Rudi’s door. The handle didn’t turn. Ah, so he had locked it and taken the key with him. Then it occurred to me that my key might just fit. I removed it from my door and tried it. But no luck. The darned thing didn’t budge. Why had I never acquired the skill of opening a lock with a hairpin, such as one reads about in books? Actually this lock was so old and imposing that I didn’t think a mere hairpin would ever do the trick. I walked away, reluctantly. I thought it was all too possible that Rudi was indeed keeping incriminating evidence in his own room.
But I had to go on searching. I waited a little longer to see if Gerda was going to reappear, then I crept down the stairs, looking out for servants. With any luck they were having an afternoon siesta in their own rooms while their masters were away. I tiptoed into the library and tried the map drawers, even climbed the ladder to the gallery, but after a good hour of searching I came up empty-handed.
I wasn’t sure what to do next. Then I remembered the little marble temple in the grounds. Mummy had said that Rudi liked to spend time out there. How conveniently far from the villa. I let myself out through the French doors onto the terrace and stood for a while, staring up at the balconies above. I observed the sturdy wisteria up which Darcy had climbed. Rudi’s balcony had no sort of creeper. Thank heavens for that, I thought. At least I didn’t have to worry that he could climb down from his balcony and then up to mine. But also I had no way of getting into his room, even if the shutters weren’t closed, which they were. Then I pretended to stroll aimlessly, admiring flowers, just in case I was being observed, but all the time heading in the direction of the little octagonal building.
It lay conveniently behind a high topiary box hedge, on one side of the swimming pool. Its door faced the pool and as far as I could tell was not visible from the main villa. What’s more, it was not locked. The knob turned easily in my hand and I stepped inside. In contrast to the opulence of the villa this was a place of uttermost simplicity. It consisted of one octagonal room, lit by thin arched windows. The walls were white marble; so was the floor. It felt unpleasantly cold and a little damp. I looked around me. The only furniture was a large round table in the center of the room, covered in a bright woven cloth, several upright chairs dotted around the room and a thin chest against one wall on which rested a tray with a full decanter and glasses. On the center table was an ashtray, a box of matches and a pack of playing cards. So somebody must come out here from time to time. I couldn’t think what sort of appeal a place like this might have. There was no bed or sofa, so no use as a site for a tryst. Then I realized that it smelled of tobacco so I presumed this was where male visitors came when they wanted to smoke in peace.
I looked beneath the tablecloth. I explored every drawer of the small chest, but they only contained an extra ashtray and another pack of playing cards. I even looked under the chair cushions. But again I found no incriminating evidence hidden there. I had just decided that Rudi would not have hidden photographs in a room with so few hiding places and I was wasting my time, when I heard voices. Male voices. A deep man’s laugh. I peeked out of the window and saw a group of men coming around the box hedge. At first I thought they would be gardeners and I would be safe where I was, but then, as they came into full view, to my horror I recognized them. Leading the way were Paolo’s uncle with the two German officers, and behind them Rudi, Max and the Prince of Wales. What’s more, they were heading straight for the little temple.
Chapter 15
MONDAY, APRIL 22
IN A SMALL MARBLE TEMPLE AT VILLA FIORI
Help! When I agreed to be Darcy’s spy I never thought it would entail anything like this!
I had no time to wonder what they were doing back from their boat ride so soon. In fact, I had no time to think rationally. If I’d been closer to the door I might have opened it to greet them, bluffing it out with something breezy like, “Oh hello, you’re back, I see. Had a good day? I thought this place might be good to take a rest, but it’s rather dreary, isn’t it?”
But they were going to reach the door before I could and I simply couldn’t face being caught looking embarrassed like this by a group of men, including Max and my cousin. Also I’d have to explain to Camilla why a girl with a bad headache had chosen to go to a cold and damp marble room that smelled of cigar smoke. I looked around like a trapped animal. No curtains at the thin arched windows. No wardrobe. Nowhere to hide. At the last second I saw that the tablecloth reached almost to the floor. I dived under it as the door opened.
“Ach, gut,” said General Spitz-Blitzen, entering first. “This room was a good idea. Far from the ears of servants, nicht?”
“And it was also dashed clever to claim you wanted to see how fast the boat could go because you were thinking of buying one, Max,” the Prince of Wales said. “You knew damned well the women wouldn’t want to get their hair windblown.”
“And they will be hours exploring those gardens on the island,” Rudi added.
“Please, we should not speak English,” the general said. “My aide, Klinker, does not understand it.”
“Well, my German isn’t too hot,” the prince said.
“Do you gentlemen speak Italian?” Paolo’s uncle asked.
It was obvious that they didn’t.
“Don’t worry. I will translate for Klinker,” Rudi said. “I think we can all manage in English besides him.”
“Good show,” the prince said. “That makes it easier. Now, since we are supposed to be here smoking, we’d better light up cigars. Then someone can bally well tell me what this is all about.”
“Take a seat, gentlemen,” Rudi said.
Then to my horror they pulled up chairs to sit around the table. It wasn’t the biggest of tables and it had one central pillar instead of legs. I pressed myself up against this. Legs and feet appeared on all sides. I saw the highly polished black boots of the general and Klinker, Rudi’s Italian suede, the prince’s Church’s shoes. Max was wearing sensible walking shoes while Paolo’s uncle’s were clearly Italian and too pointed to be practical. The general immediately stretched out his legs and the tip of his toe hit my thigh.
“Verzeihung,” he muttered, apologizing.
I just prayed that they wouldn’t all decide to stretch out their legs at once. If I would have felt stupid at being found in the little pavilion, imagine how utterly ridiculous I’d feel being caught hiding under a table. They’d think I was an imbecile!
“Cigarette or cigar, General?” Rudi asked. I heard boxes being opened, a match being struck.
“Hang on, I have my lighter,” the prince said. Then, “Damn. I dropped the bloody thing.”
I saw a gold cigarette lighter drop to the floor and then bounce toward me, under the table. Any second now someone would bend to retrieve it and I’d be discovered. I grabbed the lighter and quickly put it out toward the edge of the tablecloth.
“Let me retrieve it for you, sir,” Rudi’s voice said and his elegant hand came down. It swept close to me, almost brushing my ankle. I squeezed myself tighter to the table leg. The hand passed and closed over the lighter.
“Here you are, sir.”
“Thanks awfully,” said the prince. “Let me light your cigar, General.”
For a moment there was silence as cigars were lit and the herby smell of smoke crept down toward me.
“I see that Count Paolo is not with us,” Max said. “Is he not privy to why we are here?”
“He is not,” Paolo’s uncle replied. “He stay behind on the island to look after the ladies. I ask him to favor me and invite my friends. He may suspect, but he is a good boy. He can be trusted.”
“I hope so,” the general said. “This is too important to take risks.”
“So which of you invited me here, on false pretenses?” the Prince of Wales asked. “I can tell you Wallis was quite annoyed when she found that none
of our friends would be attending this little shindig.”
“I am sorry for the deceit, Your Royal Highness,” the general said. “But I assure you it was completely necessary. Count Cosimo will explain.”
I heard the Italian clear his throat. “You will know that an important conference just concluded in Stresa?” he said haltingly. “England, France, Italy. Their diplomats met to discuss how to deal with the Nazi threat.”
“Yes, my father wanted me to go and open the bally thing,” the Prince of Wales said. “Quite put out when I refused, but frankly I didn’t see what I could contribute.”
“Naturally. Your Highness sensed that this meeting was completely wrong. That was because it was; it was a meeting of the wrong people.” This time it was the general’s voice. “Why would England and Italy want to form an alliance with France, your old enemy? And England has historic ties with Germany. Is not your own family German, Your Highness? Have not the kings of England been German for two hundred years?”
“That’s true enough,” the Prince of Wales said, “but there is still plenty of bad feeling about the Great War, you know. We lost a whole generation of young men.”
“We too,” Max’s voice said. “It was a foolish war, a war that neither side wanted or should have started. Over the shooting of an archduke we wipe out millions.”
“That was the excuse,” the Prince of Wales pointed out. “I’m afraid it was the ambition of my father’s cousin the Kaiser that was behind it.”
“You are right, Your Highness,” the general said. “Over the ambition and pride of a Kaiser a great nation is brought to its knees.”
“And I can tell you that my country has no wish to form an alliance with France. Our beloved leader, Il Duce, Signor Mussolini, is a great admirer of Herr Hitler,” Paolo’s uncle said. “A great admirer of what he is doing in Germany now.”
In the background I heard the murmur of Rudi translating for Klinker.