Miss Lily’s Lovely Ladies

by Jackie French

  The season’s fashionable skin slid away, leaving only shock. Hannelore couldn’t go! To have so recently found a friend, and now to lose her so soon? Sophie was strangely bereft at the thought of not being able to have a true and deep conversation with Dolphie either.

  What had created this urgency?

  Sophie glanced at Hannelore. Only a friend would notice the extra tension in her body. Sophie looked back at Dolphie. ‘Why? What’s happened?’

  ‘Our cousin has been shot,’ said Dolphie flatly. ‘The news will be in all the newspapers tomorrow. Our so-kind English hosts have given us this small drawing room to ourselves to honour our grief. And because we will be enemies soon too, of course they do not wish their guests to see us in their house. The Carlyles will be glad when Hannelore and I are gone tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I’m so sorry about your cousin. But I don’t understand.’

  ‘There is no real grief for either of us, which is sad, perhaps, for I think he deserves grief … I have met him six, perhaps seven times, Hannelore not at all since she was small. But there are many others who will grieve for him, and millions more for what will come after. His name was Franz Ferdinand. He is … was … an archduke, and the nephew of the Emperor of Austria-Hungary, and his heir. That in itself is bad enough. But he was shot in Bosnia, where the police did not even guard him as he was driven through the streets. The man who shot him was a Serb, one of the secret Black Hand society, taking revenge for what they call the oppression of the Serbian people.’

  ‘They shot him in the neck,’ said Hannelore softly, and Sophie knew she was remembering another attack, many years before. ‘But he did not die at once. His wife saw the man raise his pistol again. She flung herself in front of her husband, trying to save his life. The Serb shot her in the stomach. She died too, many minutes later. I wonder,’ she added quietly, ‘when people talk about this in years to come, whether they will remember her, as well as him.’

  ‘I don’t understand. I really am sorry.’ She glanced at Hannelore, wishing she could put her arms around her. But you didn’t do that in someone else’s house where anyone, guest or servant, might come in. ‘But there have been terrible things happening in the Balkans for so long, and none of them have led to war with England. Why should this bring war now?’

  ‘Because Germany and England have been heading towards war all year,’ said Dolphie. ‘Ambassadors and even kings, exchanging letters, making treaties, tearing them up and making new ones, and all the time the German and English armies growing, steel being hammered for the German and English navies. Do you know why you have never thought of marrying me, dear Sophie? Because deep in your heart you have known we will be enemies.’

  ‘But … we are on the same side, not wanting war …’

  ‘Before war comes, we can be on the same side. Once war overtakes us, we become enemies.’

  ‘I could never think of you and Hannelore as enemies.’

  ‘Trust me, one day you will.’ He smiled. ‘Of course I accept I may not have ever won your heart. But I am a … little sad … that you have not even considered it.’

  Sophie was silent. For all his joking Dolphie was no fool. She had suddenly glimpsed the real Dolphie, and liked him. ‘Dolphie, I’m sorry. I think perhaps I haven’t wanted to fall in love with anyone this season.’

  ‘A little comfort,’ said Dolphie. Once again it was hard to tell if he was serious.

  ‘It is best that I go home,’ said Hannelore. ‘There will be unrest on our estate, perhaps. My family will need me there. Also,’ she tried to smile at Sophie, ‘England would be a good place to be if the war were only between Germany and France. But this will be a war on English soil, once France falls. You have, what …? A million men in the armies of your empire? We have more than seven million in ours.’

  Seven million, thought Sophie. It was five million only a few months ago. Has Germany been so seriously preparing for war? And Hannelore has known this?

  ‘Germany will win,’ said Hannelore matter-of-factly. ‘I do not want war, Sophie. You know how much I do not want it. But it is better to be in a country that wins a war than loses it.’

  ‘If I were your father,’ said Dolphie, ‘I would order you on the next ship to Australia. As a man who might, perhaps, have been a friend, if never more, I would ask you most earnestly to book your passage home, now.’

  ‘Australia will fight with Britain.’

  ‘But it is far away. Those in Australia will not suffer. Not like the English will when their country is invaded.’ He hesitated. ‘I have been home since I last saw you. The plans for the invasion have been drawn up. They are very, very detailed, including a war of terror on civilians to hasten the surrender.’

  Sophie glanced at Hannelore. Hannelore nodded. ‘Miss Lily knows. She will tell her friends.’ She met Sophie’s eyes. ‘You should go home, Sophie. The plans intend rape as a tool of war. Babies on bayonets carried through the streets.’

  ‘You … you can’t be serious!’ Impossible, with the bees buzzing outside the window, the far-off voices of men forking hay. ‘They wouldn’t …’

  Suddenly she noticed the door was open. A man stood there: nondescript at first till you noticed the intelligence in his thin face. How much had he heard? ‘Ah, Prinzessin, Count von Hoffenhausen, I hope I am not intruding.’

  This man had known exactly who was in this room before he opened the door.

  Dolphie stood politely, a mask of polite superficiality gliding over his face. ‘Of course not, dear chap. Have some tea, do. Though I do not recommend the coffee. Hannelore, you remember Mr Lorrimer. Miss Higgs, may I introduce Mr James Lorrimer. Mr Lorrimer, this is Miss Sophie Higgs.’

  Mr Lorrimer bowed to Hannelore, then to Sophie, and stepped towards the fire. He was in his thirties, with brown hair and brown eyes. Nothing special, yet in those seconds she was able to use all the skills she had learned at Shillings.

  This man was important. The way he carried his shoulders, the way he evaluated each one of them in a brief moment. And he had come to evaluate how two highly connected Germans felt about the day’s news. ‘You seem to be having such an intent conversation.’

  Sophie turned, showing her length of neck. It was partly instinctive now, to charm a man; it was also partly a way of drawing attention from Hannelore. She looked up at him from under her lashes and met his eyes, allowing her smile to ripen. He smiled back.

  Step one achieved, she thought. She made her voice light, as though it carried to his ears alone. ‘Count von Hoffenhausen was explaining that while he wants to marry me, it would not make me happy, because his country will soon be at war with ours, and they will win. But I’m sure you don’t think so.’

  She felt slight guilt at seeming to trivialise Hannelore’s very real worry. But there must be nothing that could brand her or Dolphie as spies for either Germany or England.

  The newcomer’s eyes widened in surprise, and then with interest. Vaguely she was aware of Hannelore’s recognition of exactly what Sophie was doing.

  But this was personal too. James Lorrimer was … intriguing.

  The man in question turned to Dolphie briefly. ‘Ah, an interesting way to phrase a proposal, Count. I wish I had heard more. Yes, I will have tea, thank you.’ Sophie poured and handed him a cup. He took it, sipped. ‘So you believe war is inevitable, Count von Hoffenhausen?’

  ‘Don’t you, sir?’

  Cleverly done, Dolphie, thought Sophie. James Lorrimer sipped again. ‘I do, though possibly not for the same reasons as you.’

  Sophie forced her voice lower. (A high voice is a sign of nervousness, Miss Lily had told them. A husky one speaks both of passion and self-assurance.) ‘Why is that, Mr Lorrimer?’ This man must seem to be the centre of my world, she reminded herself. Do not look at Hannelore. Do not look at Dolphie or at the teacakes. Look at him. Keep your feet facing the table but incline your body …

  ‘Why do I think there will be war? Or why do I assume my reasons are dif
ferent from the count’s?’

  ‘Both, please.’ She could have been a child asking for a treat, or an empress asking for a colony. Make him feel important, she heard Miss Lily whisper.

  Mr Lorrimer looked at her thoughtfully. And he smiled, a different smile.

  No, there was no need to make James Lorrimer feel important. If anything, she felt he might keep himself unnoticed, so that his true importance would not be recognised except by those who needed to know.

  He knows what I am doing, she thought. Knows I am being deliberately charming, and that I have the skills to turn a conversation from areas that might be … unwise. He approves of that. But how much did he hear earlier?

  ‘I think that you,’ James Lorrimer inclined his head towards Dolphie, ‘believe that there will be war because both countries have prepared for it for so long — though Germany, I admit, has done so far more thoroughly — and that only the timing of the war is in doubt. That diplomacy has become a game of chess, and soon someone in a high enough position will say, “Checkmate” and the real game will begin.’

  So this was how politics joined with flirtation. Had Sophie ever felt quite so alive?

  James Lorrimer’s smile was for Sophie now. ‘But I believe that war will come because too many people want it. Not just the politicians or industrialists who think they move the chess pieces. I believe that when war is declared — and I say when, not if — there will be cheering in the streets.’

  Suddenly Sophie forgot to flirt. ‘But that is terrible!’

  ‘Yes. But it is also true.’ James Lorrimer sipped again.

  ‘So people of good faith can do nothing?’ asked Hannelore.

  ‘If I thought that, I wouldn’t be in the job I’m in, Prinzessin,’ he said gently. ‘Foreign Office,’ he added to Sophie. ‘One of His Majesty’s humbler servants.’

  Somehow Sophie doubted the ‘humbler’ part.

  ‘How can anyone want war?’ Her eagerness to hear his view wasn’t performed now. This was a man who knew the hidden crevices of politics, and might explain them.

  ‘Boredom? Even villagers are getting glimpses of a wider world. War gives them a chance to see it, to be part of it. But mostly,’ James Lorrimer took another sip of his tea, ‘it is fun to hate an enemy.’

  ‘My cousin has just been killed, Mr Lorrimer,’ said Hannelore. ‘I do not think that is fun.’

  Sophie reached over and took her hand.

  ‘My dear Prinzessin,’ his voice sounded truly regretful, ‘you have my deepest apologies. I should have remembered how personally you are enmeshed in this before I spoke. But too many enjoy playing enemies. If there is not a real war, they manufacture one.’

  A good man, working for his country, not personal prestige. Suddenly Sophie was sure that if their earlier conversation had been overheard — and she was fairly sure it had been, and deliberately — there would be no mention of Hannelore’s or Dolphie’s name in James Lorrimer’s report to Whitehall.

  The door opened again. ‘Sophie, darling,’ said Emily, with no particular welcome in her voice. Sophie stood. They kissed the air beside the other’s cheek. ‘So lovely to see you,’ said Emily, not looking at her, but at the man at her side, ‘Mr Lorrimer.’ It was as though Sophie had vanished from the room, and Hannelore and Dolphie too. ‘I am so glad you could come. But you should be in the library! You know Mr Churchill is due here tomorrow?’

  He nodded, his eyes amused. Mr Lorrimer knows Emily is deliberately charming him too, thought Sophie. I suppose she will charm Mr Churchill as well. But Mr Lorrimer prefers my charm to hers.

  Emily leaned in close to him. ‘I have placed you next to me at dinner. Mama would have had you on her right, of course, but I couldn’t resist. We can resume our conversation from luncheon.’

  So, thought Sophie, watching the intentness as Emily met James Lorrimer’s eyes, this is a man Emily would like to acquire as a husband, not a Mr Porton.

  ‘Enchanted, Miss Carlyle.’ Once again James Lorrimer was amused, though Emily didn’t appear to notice.

  Neither Hannelore nor Dolphie was at dinner. Sophie supposed it had been tactfully suggested that they might like to dine in their rooms because of their early departure the next morning. She’d need to leave the drawing room early, to see Hannelore before she went to sleep, to try to reassure her, or offer the consolation of friendship and understanding at least.

  Surely Hannelore and Dolphie are wrong, she thought. The assassination of Hannelore’s parents hadn’t led to war. And that part of Europe had fought other wars on and off for years, without the English or German empires getting involved. Miss Lily said war could be prevented. Mr Lorrimer had too.

  Sophie took her place at the table, well below the salt. The dinner table was the longest she had ever seen: at least fifty guests, far too many for general conversation even if etiquette hadn’t demanded she speak only to the men on either side. One of whom, to her delighted surprise, was Mr Lorrimer.

  She spread her napkin over the silk of her lap and hoped it wouldn’t slide off, glad that the pale rose-coloured silk showed off the slope of her bare shoulders. ‘I didn’t expect you at this end of the table, Mr Lorrimer.’ (If you are delighted, show it, Miss Lily had said. She didn’t try to hide it now.)

  He smiled at her. ‘I arranged for the name places to be changed.’ He didn’t seem worried that he might have offended his hostess or her daughter. Which means, thought Sophie, that they are eager for his favour, not the other way around. There was something … formidable about Mr Lorrimer.

  Soup was served. Turtle, garnished with croutons and caviar. She took the silver spoon in her hand, almost caressing it, then smiled up at him. ‘Do we continue our conversation about war?’

  ‘I’d prefer to talk about peace. War is simply war. But there are different kinds of peace.’

  Once again flirtation vanished in fascination. ‘You’ve seen war first hand?’

  ‘South Africa.’

  ‘You were in the Boer War?’

  ‘For a time. Territorials, not the regular army. I came home when my wife became ill.’

  She flushed. ‘I’m sorry. I hope she recovered quickly.’

  ‘It was just the beginning, I’m afraid. She died two years ago.’ He spooned his soup.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again. She shook her head. ‘There has to be something more to say to news like that, but I can’t think of it. It must have been so hard for you.’

  You have told me you are now unmarried, she thought, as well as that you loved your wife enough to leave the army for her.

  ‘It’s the hardest thing on earth to see someone you love suffer. So, let’s not talk of war, or death. How about the life of Miss Sophie Higgs?’

  She spooned up a little soup before replying. ‘Is there anything about me you don’t know already, Mr Lorrimer?’

  He laughed out loud, so that other guests turned to stare. ‘You are wonderful. No wonder the count asked you to marry him. You’d be running the country in a week.’

  ‘I don’t want to run Germany.’

  ‘And yet you are close friends with two most important Germans.’ The tone was light. The meaning was not.

  She flushed. ‘So is His Majesty. I may be a colonial, Mr Lorrimer, but my father fought for the Empire, and then helped make it prosperous. I wish I had the power to do the same.’

  She had said too much. How many times had Miss Lily impressed upon her that a lady’s influence should be inconspicuous? But he was looking at her with even more interest, and a gleam of admiration.

  ‘Why did you come to England?’

  She looked at him frankly. ‘You know my background?’

  ‘The Corned-Beef Princess.’

  She was hot again. ‘Is that what they call me?’

  ‘Some do. Are you surprised?’

  ‘No. Although I’m glad it’s only some.’ She wondered if Emily was one of them. ‘I’m here because having a season, being accepted, gives me greater choices,
either here or at home.’

  ‘You have been more than accepted. You are a success.’ He smiled at her faintly. ‘Only Miss Carlyle’s odds of a prize marriage are better than yours at White’s.’

  White’s was a gentlemen’s club, infamous for the miscellaneous bets inscribed in a particular book. Gentlemen did not tell women about White’s or the betting book. This man had offered her a nugget of reality in the middle of society’s games.

  He looked at her speculatively. ‘Miss Higgs, I am now going to make what is undoubtedly a social blunder, and possibly a personal one. But it is important.’

  She looked at him, intrigued.

  ‘I … not quite accidentally … heard part of your conversation this afternoon. If your friend has seen the plans he referred to, it would be a great service to our country to discover the route as well.’

  She forced herself not to stare at him, eating a small mouthful to cover her shock. The query had been so obliquely phrased that a casual listener would never have guessed that a guest at this table had just asked another to spy on another.

  ‘It is an interesting question, isn’t it?’ he added lightly. ‘Does friendship matter more than thousands of lives?’

  ‘It is one Hannelore — the prinzessin — answered earlier,’ she said quietly. ‘If war cannot be avoided, it is best if one’s country wins.’ She could not tell him that Hannelore, and possibly Dolphie too, had already told Miss Lily about the planned attacks on civilians, and that Miss Lily would undoubtedly make sure that the information reached the Foreign Office.

  But warning of terrorising civilians was a long way from giving the enemy vital information about which country would be first attacked.

  Should she do this? Could she do this? What would Miss Lily advise? But she at least knew what her next move should be. She looked up at James Lorrimer, met his eyes, smiled, saw his smile answer her. ‘I will see Hannelore tonight, to say goodbye,’ she said. It was neither acceptance nor denial. She saw him not just realise that, but also approve.