Days of Winter

by Cynthia Freeman

  Of course, the crime was shocking news, but nothing in the immediate aftermath suggested that further violence was inevitable. King George V offered seven days of mourning by the British court. Czar Nicholas II of Russia outdid Great Britain by declaring a mourning period of twelve days. And President Wilson of the United States cabled official sympathies.

  The Serbians had immediately set themselves to the task of investigating and interrogating the conspirators, but their efforts were badly mishandled. The conspirators changed their stories, which caused a great deal of confusion. But finally the last of the culprits broke down and revealed the existence of a large terrorist organization in Serbia called the Black Hand.

  Friedrich von Wiesner of Austria was dispatched to Sarajevo to see what could be uncovered. His findings—whether true or not—were that the Serbian government was involved in the plot. Still, most European capitals continued to concern themselves very little with what was considered another Balkan conflict. Stress of that kind had been going on since 1912. No major crisis would grow out of the affair. But tension between Serbia and Austria intensified. In order to soothe Austria and play down the situation, which was becoming incendiary, the Serbian government forbade public assemblies, closed all theaters and dance halls, but made no attempt to censure the national press that raged against Austria. Austrian newspapers were no less violent in attacking Serbia.

  On July 19, the Austrian council met in secret and decided that Serbia would have to be beaten into the dust. Austria demanded that the Serbian government formally condemn all anti-Austrian propaganda, expel from office anyone fomenting it and accept unequivocally the complete collaboration of Austrian agents on Serbian soil in the suppression of such propaganda. Belgrade was given forty-eight hours to comply or capitulate. The Serbian cabinet frantically contacted the Regent, Prince Alexander, to appeal for help from Czar Nicholas II. The answer was immediate: should Serbia be attacked, Russia would come to her aid at once.

  Meanwhile, Vienna sent a secret communiqué to Kaiser Wilhelm II: If Serbia didn’t comply with Austria’s demands, could she count on Germany to sustain her as an ally? Germany’s reply was an unequivocal yes.

  Publication of the ultimatum was followed by two massive mobilizations. The Russian and German armies were ready. A shock wave was spreading across an unsuspecting Europe.

  Rubin tried to absorb the latest developments. Wouldn’t France have to take a stand, since France had an alliance with Russia? Germany had been hell-bent for some time on expansion, and her navy had already grown to greater proportions than Great Britain was comfortable with. Would Germany cross the borders into France? Would England feel compelled to aid her neighbor? The English navy lay off the coast of France, which placed Great Britain in a very awkward position.

  Rubin sighed deeply, got up and poured himself a brandy. His own problems paled in the light of all these events. But if … and, dear God, it could only be conjecture … if England became involved, what would happen to Magda? He would have to enlist, and then she would be alone in a foreign country without a friend. …But why are you worrying, Rubin …Your imagination is working overtime …This whole mess will probably be over tomorrow. …

  But something kept nudging him, and his anxiety persisted. It would not be dismissed lightly. And suddenly he thought of someone else who was vulnerable. Solange … Even if his fears were groundless, it would be good to see her. And if war did come, Solange would be here to look after Magda. Yes, he would insist that she come.

  He went in to see Magda. She was studying a decorating magazine.

  “Darling … I’ve been thinking,” he said.

  “Yes?” She had found an especially attractive fabric for the drawing room draperies.

  “It might be good to ask Solange to come over for a while.”

  Magda froze. Why did Rubin want Solange in London? Wasn’t she capable of standing alone, without the help of a countess? Did Rubin think she still needed her? Suddenly she felt the old insecurity about herself, and very angry. But just as quickly she checked her impulse to strike back, to blurt out her thoughts. Quietly she answered, “That would be a nice gesture, Rubin … after the flat is finished. The last of the furniture will be delivered tomorrow, and we’re moving on August first. I want it to be perfect … and then we’ll ask her.”

  “Solange won’t mind if—”

  “I’m not thinking of what she’d mind … I want to have our home looking proper before we entertain.”

  Rubin knew she was annoyed. The careful cadence of her speech made that clear enough, and, thinking about it, he understood why …He’d bring it up again in a couple of weeks, he thought, when the apartment was further along.

  Suddenly, Magda realized that Solange in London was indeed something to think about …Solange could be a great asset to her …Why didn’t I think of it sooner? Solange can bring me the kind of prestige the Hacks will acknowledge. …The niece of a countess …The English love titles. …

  The idea was sheer genius.

  “You’re perfectly right, Rubin. I think we should ask her right away. You’re very generous to think of it. I’m sorry not to have understood right away … of course I need a friend like Solange. …You’ll phone her then?”

  “First thing tomorrow.”

  Magda put her head against Rubin’s shoulder. “I love Solange … in spite of the fact she said you’d never marry me.”

  “Solange didn’t know how much I love you.”

  “No … but I did … I’m the smartest of the three.” She gently nibbled his earlobe.

  “Smartest, and prettiest. An unbeatable combination …Now get that pile of magazines off the bed.”

  Undressing quickly, he got into bed and waited for her. She joined him, pressing her body against his. She felt Rubin grow harder and larger and spread her legs to receive him.

  There was no such thing as war, not tonight … not now …With an intensity that startled her, he said, “There’s only you, only Magda.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ON AUGUST 1 THEY moved to their Wimpole Street flat. The weather was perfect. Not a cloud on the horizon.

  Rubin carried Magda over the threshold, kissed her and put her down. She stood, slowly turned around in the center of the oval foyer. It was all so beautiful … almost unreal. This was hers, the first real home she had ever had …The impact was overwhelming …

  Gently she took his hand in hers as they walked from room to room. This was her homecoming. Mama … Papa … Niko … I’m home … We’re all home.

  Tears ran down her cheeks. “Rubin, I don’t think there has ever been a woman quite as … as … fortunate …? Is that the right word?”

  “I hope so, my darling, I hope so …”

  “Rubin, I want to go to the little synagogue where we were married … to say the kaddish for my parents … I believe the dead intervene for us. I believe that today I’m here because of them. I must share this with them. You do understand?”

  He, of course, did.

  That night Rubin lay awake in the dark, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. The first night spent in his own home … and he could find no peace. A bride, a home that should have brought him complete joy, but it didn’t …In spite of himself, he missed his family beyond belief. Without Magda he was nothing, still it was impossible not to feel regret. His dreams had been disturbing. Not quite nightmares, but painful … foreboding …Pretending not to care was difficult …The time the Pembrokes had snubbed him at Brighton … the times he’d been ignored, despised, in London … they hurt …

  He got out of bed and went into the drawing room without putting on the lights, unaware of the splendor that surrounded him. Standing at the window, he looked at the park across the street The neat, cropped lawns, the trees silhouetted against the sky bathed in moonlight, made the cityscape so beautiful … so tranquil … so peaceful. Peace … he wanted that more than anything … in a world already mobilizing for war.

  E
arlier this evening when they had gone to the shabby little synagogue in the East End his emotions had come to the surface … all he’d lost … and gained, thanks to Magda … and he’d prayed for forgiveness, for having offended so many. He prayed too for a reunion … to become once again a member of his family. God, he did miss them … Leon … if only he could at least speak to Leon. …

  The prayer book touched him deeply. It had so much meaning … as though it had been written for him alone, to explore his very soul. Still, when the service was over, he left the musty sanctuary with a feeling of even greater remorse. It hadn’t cleansed his soul, but it had put him in touch with himself … with God …?

  Slowly he turned now from the window. If only he could bring the people he loved together …Getting back into bed, he shut his eyes and finally knew the relief of sleep.

  Next morning, he felt a strange sense of peacefulness. Somehow, in daylight, everything seemed more hopeful. What couldn’t be changed would have to be accepted. Magda had been up since six, wearing one of her many faces … no longer the Magda he had met in Paris … no longer a bitter, disillusioned young woman … and not the same Magda who had sat beside him in the synagogue last night, the Magda reciting the Hebrew prayer for her departed …Somehow, today, it was a jubilant, joyful Magda, ready to take on the challenges that lay ahead.

  “Good morning, Rubin.” She smiled and kissed him. She had set the dining table beautifully. The breakfast china was perfectly arranged, the linen snowy white, the monogramed napkins in their places …

  “Good morning,” he answered, resolutely putting aside his painful thoughts of the previous day and night.

  “I’ve made a special breakfast for us.” Dressed in a flowered voile morning gown, she went to the kitchen. Within minutes, she wheeled in the cart. Fresh juice … raspberries … kippers … kidneys … scrambled eggs … toast … butter … marmalade … coffee, cream and sugar. “Voilà,” she said, filling a plate for Rubin.

  Coating the berries with sugar, Rubin asked, “Why were you up so early?”

  “I was getting ready for Solange … her bedroom … oh Rubin, it’s … divine … I love that word … I used the divine blue sheets, remember the ones with the écru lace? And that divine”—she couldn’t help but laugh at her own silliness—“that divine blue satin down comforter, which incidentally was made in France—”

  He smiled, taking a spoonful of raspberries. “We do at least have enough taste to import things, you know …”

  “Of course. You have only to look at me, an original Rumanian import … courtesy of France, which if mentioned I will deny … oh, Rubin, the room is simply div—”

  “Magda, one more time and I will shut that divine little imported mouth …”

  “First call Solange,” she said, laughing and kissing him on the neck.

  Solange was delighted and promptly got an early afternoon train for Calais. She stepped down from the car looking exactly as a countess should. She was dressed in a dove-gray velvet suit. The bow of her pink chiffon blouse billowed out. Her toque was small and feathered in shades of gray, and the sable scarf hung over her arm.

  Magda and Rubin greeted her warmly. First she embraced Magda, then kissed Rubin on both cheeks and looked at him in her own sly way. Oh, the things I do for you, Rubin, her eyes were saying. And his responded, thank you. …

  Later, after they’d settled Solange in, Magda said, “I’m so happy you’re here, Solange.” Magda lay across Solange’s bed, on her stomach, her hands holding her face.

  “Are you really? Two women in the same house with one man.”

  “What a question! You know I am.”

  “How are things going?”

  “Very well.”

  “And Rubin is happy?”

  Magda looked shocked. “Of course. Why shouldn’t he be?”

  “It isn’t easy living so close to the past—”

  “Well, I wanted him to come to Paris to live but he said he had to have roots.”

  “Yes, that’s natural. Roots and family are very important—”

  “He rarely thinks of them.”

  “Really? And what about running into people …? He can scarcely avoid that.”

  “It doesn’t bother him a bit …In fact, he says to hell with them.”

  “It’s not so easy defying convention. Being shut out. Who knows that better than I?”

  “It doesn’t bother Rubin. And I believe you were taken back, and forgiven the error of your ways. Besides, I have a plan.”

  Solange began unpacking. Hanging up a dressing gown, she said, “My dear, you always have a plan …”

  Magda disregarded the sardonic note. “Well, I want Rubin to be reconciled …I will never be happy until he’s reunited with his family.”

  Solange looked at Magda …We don’t fall in love with saints. She understood Magda all too well … liked her in spite of it, but there was more to this little suggestion than met the ear. “It means that much to you … his happiness …?”

  “Of course it does. Why are you being so … so difficult?”

  Solange settled herself in the satin slipper chair. “The truth is, I’ve been annoyed with you.”

  “Why?”

  “You took me around the flat like the Queen of Rumania, showing the palace to a serf. You certainly are pleased with the things you’ve acquired. No one is happier than I with your success, but I worry …Rubin loves you, Magda. He’s vulnerable. Love always does that. He’ll do anything to make you happy. This marriage must not fail. The price has been too great—”

  “He can afford it …”

  Solange sighed and bit her lower lip. “I don’t think you’ve heard one word I’ve said. I wasn’t talking about money. Is that why you married him?”

  “No. Of course not. I happen to love him. But can’t one have both? Is it a sin …?”

  “Of course not, but don’t hurt him, Magda.”

  Magda began to cry. “I wish you hadn’t come … I thought we were friends …”

  “Rubin is a shattered man.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw it in his eyes. If you have it to give, then love him, Magda.”

  “I do. You don’t know the happiness I bring him—”

  “I’m not talking about bed … I’m talking about the other Rubin …”

  Magda was shocked. She hadn’t seen any great change in Rubin. Wiping the tears from her eyes she said, “Why haven’t I seen his sadness?”

  “Because you’re too absorbed in all this.” Solange waved her hands about the room. “You haven’t had time to look at Rubin …”

  Magda was silent. Solange, in a way, was right …She hadn’t looked at Rubin. She ran to Solange, knelt on the floor, and buried her head in Solange’s lap. “You make me feel naked, Solange. You see right through me, you always have …”

  Solange wiped away her tears. “You’re selfish, but at least you’re honest, and for that I do love you. But it would be best if I returned to Paris … I’ll only upset you here.”

  “No, Solange,” Magda said. “I need you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m lonely.”

  “And for what other reason …?” There was a pause.

  “All right …There is another reason. I know Rubin is suffering because of what he’s done. But I told you, I have a plan. I’m not going to lie to you about why I want Rubin to become united with his family …Yes, it is his wish, but by helping him I help myself to be accepted in the kind of society that once rejected you. You wanted it, Solange. Why shouldn’t I? And I know it can be done, but I need your help.”

  “Was it your idea or Rubin’s that I come?”

  “It was his, Į swear to you, Solange.”

  “But you knew I could help?”

  “Yes … I knew you could be my champion.”

  “Well, at least that’s honest.”

  “Don’t be bitter, Solange. For whatever selfish reasons, I’m honestly happy
you’re with me. You do believe that …?”

  “Yes …”

  “Does it make me wicked if what I want is to bring him together with his family? Wouldn’t it make our marriage even better?”

  Solange sighed. “Let me warn you, Magda, what you propose will not be easily accomplished.”

  “Once you said that Rubin would never marry me …”

  “This is different. We’re not dealing with a man in love but with a whole set of social rules that can’t be reconciled so easily. Do you think that you’re ready for such a task …?”

  “With you as my champion, I’m ready for anything.”

  “Ah,” said Solange, “I may not do much good.”

  “Being your niece will help … being someone.”

  “Well …” she said at last, “we will try. For Rubin’s sake, the effort is worth it”

  Magda was weak with relief. She did not take offense that Solange’s first thoughts were for Rubin. What did it matter, when victory would be for both of them?

  The next morning’s headlines were ominous: BELGIUM’S NEUTRALITY DISREGARDED. GERMANY DECLARES WAR ON FRANCE. Rubin’s hand trembled as he picked up the paper. Solange had left just in time.

  He poured a cup of coffee, took it into the dining room and read the latest reports. Germany issued a declaration of war on France today …German troops have ignored Belgium’s neutrality, crossed her borders and invaded the country …Although His Majesty’s Government has attempted to be a conciliatory force, still nothing of any major significance has been forthcoming in the negotiations …This morning a stiff ultimatum was sent to the German High Command to withdraw her troops from Belgium immediately …Britain awaits the answer … and must reconsider her position … her moral obligation to aid a small and beleaguered country. Can she tolerate this German aggression? Will any neutral country be safe …?

  It was eleven o’clock when Magda joined him, looking like a vision in a pink mauve dressing gown. “Good morning, darling. Thank God the maid arrives today … the house already needs a good cleaning … I detest housework.” She looked at Rubin. He could not hide his concern.