Love Wins In Berlin

by Barbara Cartland

  “How extraordinary!” Simona cried. “Why should he feel like that?”

  “I have no idea,” the Marquis replied.” But an Emperor – if no one else – can have very peculiar ideas and people of course pander to them.”

  He thought for a moment before adding,

  “Of course, you are correct in wearing gloves. But if you can find some excuse for removing them and revealing your very beautiful hands, I am sure we shall find the Kaiser is more pleasant to us than he might be otherwise.”

  Simona raised her head and laughed.

  It was a very pretty laugh, and very different from the affected sounds made by the beauties in London.

  “I do not believe it!” Simona said. “The whole idea is just too fantastic.”

  “It would even be enjoyable if it were not so serious and you do realise how serious this situation has become?”

  “Of course I do and you know I will help you in every possible way that I can.”

  “I know,” the Marquis replied, smiling at her, “and I am very grateful.”

  By this time the carriage was approaching the Palace and as they reached one of the outer gates, the sentry recognised the coachman’s livery and saluted. They passed through and drew up outside the enormous front door.

  Once again Simona found it difficult to believe it was all real and not a dream.

  The Marquis explained who he was and after a short wait, an Equerry appeared to proclaim that the Emperor would grant them an audience.

  They walked up what seemed a mountain of stairs until they were ushered into an upstairs study. It was a large and lofty room and the walls were hung with a light green damask that was faded in many places. Simona noticed that the furniture was upholstered in the same material.

  Next to one of the doors there was an immense black marble mantelpiece. Nearby was a walnut writing table, a big, rather clumsy piece of furniture with machine turned feet. It looked out of place between two immense boulle chests of drawers with grey marble tops.

  At a glance Simona recognised that they were outstanding and would have impressed her father.

  On all the fine furniture as well as on the desk there was an enormous collection of charcoal sketches and photographs of beautiful women, some framed and some unframed.

  She only had a chance for a quick look.

  As they moved across the room she realised that the Kaiser was standing at the far end of the room waiting for them to reach him.

  Having never seen Kaiser Wilhelm II, Simona had expected him to be taller.

  He also seemed very young when she compared him with the Prince of Wales.

  There was, she thought, a somewhat aggressive expression on his face as the Marquis bowed before him.

  Almost as if the Kaiser was forcing himself to be pleasant, he held out his hand saying,

  “I was not expecting, Marquis, to see you in Berlin.”

  The Marquis had been warned previously of the Kaiser’s pride in his own personal strength and how he liked to demonstrate it by the way he shook hands.

  His right hand was massive and ugly in appearance and any man who shook it found himself gripped in an almost agonising vice.

  In fact as one of the Marquis’s friends had told him,

  “I endured the ordeal with my teeth clenched. Even so I could hardly suppress a groan.”

  The Marquis however managed to shake the Kaiser’s hand without too much pain.

  But he noticed that the Kaiser was wearing more rings than usual. These he knew were the means by which His Majesty was trying to hide a number of conspicuous moles which disfigured his hand.

  Having shaken hands with the Marquis, the Kaiser turned his attention to Simona.

  “May I present to Your Majesty,” the Marquis announced, “the Honourable Simona Bell. Her father is Lord Belgrave, who wishes to be remembered most respectfully to Your Majesty.”

  “Of course I remember Lord Belgrave!” the Kaiser exclaimed. He was looking at Simona as he spoke.

  She felt as if he was appraising her in a way that was almost offensive.

  She had curtsied to the ground as the Marquis presented her, and now as she rose she said,

  “It is a great honour, Your Majesty, for me to be here and to meet you, as you have always been one of my heroes ever since I was a child.”

  The Kaiser looked surprised while the Marquis frowned as if she was saying too much.

  Simona looking up at him in an almost childlike manner said,

  “Was it wrong for me to say that?”

  “No of course not,” the Kaiser said before the Marquis could speak, “and I am thinking that perhaps you would wish to join the portraits of all the beautiful women you see around you.”

  “I would never aspire to that honour, Your Majesty,” Simona replied, “but perhaps you will be kind enough to allow me to look at them.”

  “Of course, of course,” the Kaiser agreed. “Look where you like while I speak to the Marquis. I have some questions to ask him to which I hope he will give me an answer.”

  He spoke almost aggressively as if he thought the Marquis might try to evade him.

  Simona moved towards the huge writing desk.

  As she did so, she took off her gloves as if the Kaiser had given her his permission.

  The Emperor walked towards the fireplace before suddenly asking the Marquis in a very low conspiratorial voice,

  “What is all this I hear about a special gun being produced for my uncle, the Prince of Wales?”

  “A special gun!” the Marquis exclaimed. “No one has told me anything about it.”

  “Are you quite sure of that?” the Emperor enquired.

  The Marquis had thought it odd when they entered the room that there was no aide-de-camp in attendance.

  He now realised that the Kaiser was cleverer than those who spied for him, as he was obviously hoping that he could acquire for himself the knowledge he needed, so as to score over those who had failed to do so.

  The Marquis raised his hand to his forehead.

  “Let me think, Your Majesty,” he said. “There was some talk about a gun at Cowes, but I perceived that the concept was a German invention.”

  “No, no,” the Kaiser asserted, “it was an English gun that I heard about. In fact I was led to believe it was something that you yourself had invented.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “I wish I could claim that was true. It is very difficult to invent anything new these days. Although I possess some new gadgets on my yacht which have not yet been put into operation, I am, as Your Majesty well knows, not concerned with anything more lethal on the Sea-Horse than a fishing rod.”

  The Kaiser laughed as the Marquis had intended, but as he realised that he had learnt nothing from the conversation, there was a frown between his eyes and a tightening of his lips.

  This was always a warning to those who served him.

  As if she sensed that the atmosphere had changed, Simona joined them with a framed photograph in her ungloved hands.

  “Do tell me, Your Majesty,” she enquired sweetly, “who is this very beautiful lady? She is more exquisite than anyone I have ever seen before.”

  She held up the photograph as she spoke.

  It would have been impossible for the Kaiser not to see the delicate whiteness and perfect proportions of Simona’s hands.

  He stared at them before he replied to her question.

  “That is someone called Madame Herbette, and you are quite right, she is an exceptionally beautiful woman.”

  Simona was not to know that the Kaiser’s admiration for Madame Herbette was said at Court to have begun and ended with her slender fingers and it was the violent jealousy of the Empress which had brought the infatuation to an end.

  There had however been so much fuss about the affair that the Kaiser had affected a disregard for all women.

  Except that now he noticed their hands.

  It was exceedingly intelligent, the Marq
uis thought, of Simona to have used exactly the right words and, perhaps intuitively, to have chosen out of a large number, the portrait of someone the Kaiser had really admired.

  As he took the photograph from Simona, he was looking at her hands.

  “I am sure,” he offered, “you would both like a cup of coffee or perhaps a glass of wine before you leave the Palace.”

  “That is exceedingly kind of Your Majesty,” the Marquis said, “but we do not wish to impose upon your time. Moreover we should return to the Baron, who is waiting to take us on a sightseeing tour.”

  “What do you want to see,” the Kaiser asked almost truculently, “that is more interesting than my Palace?” Simona gave a little cry.

  “I would love to see it,” she said. “I have heard of all the beautiful art Your Majesty has collected and I think it is so brilliant of you.”

  “Then allow me show you some of the treasures in this room,” the Kaiser suggested.

  He took her to one of the wall cabinets and opened it to show her a remarkable collection of jewelled ornaments. There was such a large number that she could not inspect them all, but she found them fascinating.

  The Marquis noticed that while she was holding a goblet ornamented with rubies, the Kaiser was again concentrating on her hands.

  Finally an aide-de-camp entered to inform His Majesty that a deputation was waiting for an audience in the Throne Room.

  It was almost with reluctance that the Kaiser said goodbye.

  As Simona curtsied, he took her hand in his and to her surprise raised it to his lips and kissed it.

  “We must meet again,” he said, “before you leave Berlin.” He repeated what he had said to the Marquis before he left the room.

  An Equerry escorted them down the long stairs to the hall.

  Their carriage was ordered so that they could step into it outside the great doorway.

  Only as they drove off did the Marquis give a sigh of relief and say,

  “You were superb and so quick-witted with the Kaiser. I expected him to be far more difficult and certainly to be disagreeable, as he always is, about the Prince of Wales.”

  “I was frightened of doing anything wrong,” Simona said. “Why did he ask you about the gun?”

  “Because he wants to learn all about it before anybody else does.”

  “And do you think he was convinced when you said you knew nothing about the gun?” Simona asked.

  “No, of course not,” the Marquis answered. “The Germans are absolutely certain it is something I do know all about. The Kaiser will never be content until the gun is in his possession.”

  Simona gave a small cry.

  “That is frightening. Perhaps it is dangerous for you to be in Berlin and that you should return to London at once.”

  “They would never dare kidnap me,” the Marquis said, “in the same way as they have kidnapped Watson. They will not get rid of me until they have acquired the secret which they are sure I hold.”

  “It is dangerous, very dangerous!” Simona exclaimed. “You are walking on a tightrope.”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “Then you must make certain that I do not fall off it.”

  “What can I do?” Simona asked again spreading out her hands.

  “You have been very successful so far,” the Marquis reassured her, “and more successful than I have been. All I can beg of you is to continue to support me.”

  “You know I will,” Simona breathed.

  The Marquis was longing to know if Dorkins had made any contact with the Kaiser’s valet and he hoped to be able to have a word with him as soon as they had returned to the Baron’s house.

  But the Countess was waiting for him.

  She was dressed flamboyantly, and still looking very alluring.

  “You are returned!” she cried throwing up her hands. “I was wondering what had become of you and was half afraid the Emperor would insist on keeping you at the Palace.”

  “His Majesty was very gracious,” the Marquis replied, “but while we were offered something to drink, we were not invited to luncheon.”

  “All that matters,” the Countess sighed seductively is that you are back.”

  She placed her hand on the Marquis’s arm as she spoke. He thought it was not nearly as attractive as Simona’s and certainly would not have pleased the Kaiser.

  “I am so glad your visit to the Palace was a success,” the Baron was saying, “and now as luncheon is served, let us go to the dining room.”

  They were joined by the Baroness and Karoline, who wanted to hear everything that had been said and exactly what Simona had thought of the Palace.

  “It is too big and overcrowded,” Simona explained, “with so much beautiful art and furniture that the Kaiser has no chance of exhibiting everything to its best effect.”

  “That is very true,” the Baron agreed, “but I do hope you did not say so to the Emperor. He cannot bear criticism of any sort.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “Of course not, in fact His Majesty much admired Simona’s hands”

  “Naturally he did!” the Baron exclaimed. “I should have told you that His Majesty’s idea of beauty is now entirely confined to a woman’s hands. She may have the nose of a Kalmuck, be chicken-breasted or hunchbacked, but if she has beautiful hands he will draw her into conversation, compliment her, and, on retiring, kiss her hand.”

  The Baroness added,

  “Only once if exposed to the gaze of scrutinising eyes, but half a dozen times and more when unobserved!”

  The Marquis laughed but he soon realised that sitting beside him, the Countess was furious. She was looking at Simona in what he felt was a hostile manner.

  Quite suddenly he was afraid, not for himself but for the lovely girl who had helped him more than he could express in words.

  Unexpectedly it struck him that Simona might be in danger, not from the Kaiser and his agents who were holding Watson, but from another woman – the Countess – and it would be his fault.

  ‘The sooner we leave Germany the better,’ he told himself.

  Immediately after luncheon he ran up to his bedroom to change out of his formal clothes and to be able to talk to Dorkins.

  As his valet closed the door after he had entered his bedroom, the Marquis looked enquiringly at him and Dorkins said,

  “Good news, my Lord!”

  He spoke in a low voice and the Marquis immediately took him to the window, as he had done with Simona the night before.

  Keeping his voice very low the Marquis asked, “Did you make any contact with the Kaiser’s valet?”

  “I saw Franz, my Lord,” Dorkins replied, “and he was delighted to see me and he’s meeting me early this afternoon.”

  The Marquis sighed with relief.

  “That is very well done, Dorkins.”

  “He’s coming here,” Dorkins continued, “and I thinks, my Lord, I’d be wise to take him first to a pub, if there be such a thing in this town.”

  “You can take him for a drink at any beer house,” the Marquis said, “but choose one where you will not be recognised and remember you might be followed.”

  “I thinks of that, my Lord, but so far no one’s seemed to pay much attention to me.”

  “Well thank goodness for that, but I expect even though we do not realise it, we are under observation.”

  “I’m just hoping, my Lord, that Franz will keep his word and shows me the armour we talked about at Cowes.”

  “If you can see the outside of the building and exactly where it is, that will be a big help,” the Marquis said. “At the moment I have no plan as to how I can rescue Watson, but we have been so lucky in learning where he is being held, which at least is an enormous saving of time and anxiety.”

  “I agrees with you, my Lord,” Dorkins answered, “and if it’s possible I’ll get inside that there Panzer Haus and somehow find out exactly where he’s kept.”

  “Be very careful,” the Marquis cau
tioned. “They are on the alert. The Kaiser himself asked me point blank if I had heard about the gun.”

  “And what did your Lordship say to him?”

  “Naturally,” the Marquis responded, “I told him that I did not know anything about the gun, but he did not believe me.”

  Dorkins sighed.

  “They knows too much already,” he said. “That is the trouble and I means to find out who talked in the first place.” The

  Marquis shrugged his shoulders.

  “It might be anyone. I had always believed I could trust my own people, but they might have been overheard when talking, and might quite unintentionally have revealed to a stranger that we were designing a new gun.”

  He thought as he spoke there were a thousand ways in which the information could have been leaked, the unfortunate fact being it was now known to the Kaiser.

  The Marquis finished changing his clothes and said,

  “Do what you can, Dorkins, and of course do not spare any expense in entertaining your friend Franz.”

  “I don’t expect, my Lord, he has ever tasted anything much better than beer and he’s told me how the servants at the Palace are treated.”

  The Marquis had learned from a number of sources that the servants who were employed daily at the Neues Palace were obliged to bring in their own food.

  Although they worked long hours and some of them came from a distance, there were no meals provided for them and no comfort of any sort.

  In fact a statesman who had stayed at the Neues Palace had told him a horrifying story.

  He had seen forty hungry women and girls, some old and some very young, hanging about the backstairs of what the Kaiser boasted as being ‘the most magnificent Royal Court of Europe’.

  “I found it difficult to believe what I was seeing,” he had said scornfully. “Most of them were munching black bread scantily spread with lard, while from tin cans they drank a cold chicory concoction which was masquerading under the name of coffee.”

  “I cannot believe it,” the Marquis had replied,” surely the Kaiser cannot be so mean!”

  “He most certainly is,” his informant answered, “and my wife said that the women were wearing washed out calico dresses and small shawls in the winter which barely covered their heads and breasts.”