BRANDY SEABORN HAD ARRANGED A QUIET, PRIVATE DINNER FOR Major John Randal and herself at the Bradford Hotel in London. Discretion at the Bradford was something the hotel staff had refined to an art form, and they could have given the secret services of the world’s major nations lessons on the subject. The moment the turbaned waiter had poured their wine and vanished, the golden girl cut straight to the chase.
“John, I am what you Americans would describe as the leadoff hitter for the Seaborn family tonight. Since everyone in the family knows how particularly special I feel about you, it was agreed I would be the best of the mob to undertake this little powwow.”
“I see,” Major Randal replied carefully. A master of the art of laying ambushes, he had the uneasy feeling he might have walked into one tonight.
“John, the Seaborns are a member of what is described as the Six Hundred, an exclusive group of British families of the upper-upper class who control the empire and are defined by their enormous wealth, incalculable influence, and unflinching service to the crown. One does not volunteer to be a member of the Six Hundred; it is virtually impossible to achieve your way in. To be a member one must be born in.
“Mostly we in the Six Hundred tend to marry within our circle, which accounts for why the number of families remains more or less constant. There are two branches of the Seaborn family tree: the branch I married into and the branch Jane married into. Both of our own families, of course, were already counted among the Six Hundred.
“Jane’s husband, Mallory, and my husband, Richard, were first cousins and best friends, though Mallory was younger than Richard and junior by one grade. Both of them dearly loved serving in the Navy. When Mallory was lost at sea, Richard was completely devastated. I am not certain, to be perfectly honest, if he is ever going to fully recover.”
“I see,” Major Randal said again, wondering what Brandy was building up to.
“Being a member of the Six Hundred can be a high-risk proposition at times,” Brandy pressed on, not allowing herself to be diverted with small talk. “Quite a lot is expected of our men—to rule the empire, to be captains of industry, and to lead in battle. Unlike nearly all other countries, Britain expects men of the ruling class to serve in time of war and to do so at the sharp end.
“Eleven Seaborn men either failed to return home from the last war or came home so badly broken they died within a few years from their wounds. We Seaborns cannot afford any more victories like the last one.
“Mallory was the last male under the age of sixty surviving on his branch. Richard and his brother were the last two on his side of the family. Seaborn men have a bad habit of getting bowled over like tenpins. There will simply not be enough of our men left to sustain the family name. That is why I worry so much about Dickie.”
“Dickie?”
“Richard, my husband.”
“He has a nice safe staff job. You don’t worry about Randy?”
“Randy may bear the Seaborn name, but he is really a Ransom, which means he is a born fire-eater. Randy will thrive in this war. He is like my father, the ‘Razor.’”
“He’s a hard charger, all right,” Major Randal agreed.
“As for the Six Hundred women, we are not permitted to complain, grieve much, or act like we have any real feelings at all. We are expected to keep a stiff upper lip, to cope no matter how difficult it gets and to simply get on with it. And never ever, under any circumstances, are we to show any overt emotion in public other than joy.
“In our tightly cloistered society, John, we do things differently than you are used to in America. Many marriages in the Six Hundred, meaning virtually all of them, are arranged for expediency, advancement, to combine great estates or to continue the line. Love does not play all that much of a role. The important thing is to make the right marriage. One has one’s responsibilities and one must not let the side down.
“From the time she was a little girl, it was accepted that Jane would marry Mallory. He was twelve years older and, of course, they had known each other all their lives. They were a good match; it was a sensible union. And in the end, that is what really matters.
“Jane and Mallory were married two years before the war began. Mallory’s ship put to sea the day hostilities broke out. He never returned home. Stuka dive-bombers caught his destroyer, the HMS Wind, off Norway and sank her with all hands. There were no survivors.
“I can still remember the day Jane received the telegram from the Admiralty as if it were yesterday. The experience was simply ghastly.
“Which brings us to the point in my story where Mallory’s dead, Jane is a widow, and you arrive on the scene. I suspect you wonder where I am going with this.” Brandy stopped talking suddenly and blazed away at him with her spectacular golden girl smile.
“You do have my attention,” Major Randal admitted.
“Has Jane ever mentioned her uncle to you—Colonel John Henry Bevins?”
“The stockbroker?”
Brandy laughed. “To describe Johnny Bevins as a stockbroker is comparable to describing a Rolls Royce as a family automobile. Johnny is one of the financial advisers to the royal family and a close personal friend and intimate of Winston Churchill. Johnny also advises several European nations—and possibly China, I believe—on their investment portfolios.”
“Jane said he was a stockbroker.”
“She would! Johnny won the Military Cross while serving with the Hertfordshire Regiment. He is one of only three survivors of the Great War from his entire class at Eton. Nowadays he is back on active duty again, in charge of intelligence for the Western Command after returning from active service in the Norwegian campaign. The colonel is like a father to Jane and he worships her.
“Johnny has managed her affairs since her parents were killed in an airplane crash in Kenya years ago, and he is currently in the process of sorting out Mallory’s estate.”
Brandy reached across the candlelit table and took his hand in both of hers. “Jane is going to invite you to have dinner with him sometime in the very near future.
“You should understand, John,” Brandy pressed on, “that when she asks you, it is not a casual event. In our circle, when a man—but most especially, when a woman—brings someone with whom they have a romantic interest to meet the family, it is a serious matter indeed. When Jane takes you to meet her uncle, the Seaborn family wants you to go mindful that you have our full Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.”
If Mrs. Brandy Seaborn had taken out a hand grenade, pulled the pin, and plopped it in a soup bowl on the table, he could not have been more completely blown away.
“Well, Brandy, you just threw me a curve ball,” Major Randal said. “It sounded like you were getting ready to tell me Jane was out of my league.”
“While I do not have even the vaguest idea what a curve ball is, John, the family was afraid that you might draw the conclusion we would feel that way. In the past we would have. But this war has largely changed how we feel about the future to the point of our even wondering if there is going to be a future. Who knows how long it will last or how many more Seaborns are going to die defending our way of life, not letting the side down? The family talked it over and our wish is for Jane to be happy.”
“I see,” Major Randal repeated once more, something he always said when he did not have a clue what to say.
“John, we had all better live life right now while we have the chance. If the Germans invade and conquer England, as it appears they most certainly will, the Six Hundred have quietly been informed we have been placed on Hitler’s death list. Something evil called the Sonderfahndungsliste G.B.
“The Nazi plan is to deport us to the Continent where we will be handed over to Dept. IV B.4 of the Reich Security Office, put into concentration camps, then liquidated. We Six Hundred are literally fighting for our lives.”
“How did your husband vote?”
“Dickie, ah . . . Richard, officially abstained as I recall,” Brandy responded with a distant look in her golden eyes, not ducking his question. “One cannot blame him, actually. Remember, Mallory was like his younger brother. What is important to note is that Richard did not object.
“My advice, as your dear friend, is to take your time with Jane. She has experienced more heartbreak and tragedy than most. Trust in long-term relationships is not easy for Jane; hers have had such calamitous endings.”
“Brandy, what makes you think Jane has any interest in me?”
“I have known Jane for her entire life. She is like my beautiful little sister. Trust me on this, John; women know these things.”
“You mean like intuition?”
“Well . . . you make her laugh. Laughter is very important in a relationship. Jane did not smile, hardly ever, after Mallory was killed. Randy says when she is around you she laughs nearly all the time. Believe me, we all took notice at Randy’s promotion party.“
“That seems fairly thin, Brandy.”
“She gave you Mallory’s watch. The reason Jane gave you the Rolex, you know, was so you would think about her every single time you look at it. Women do things like that; it’s how we think.”
“Still doesn’t mean Jane wants to introduce me to her uncle,” Major Randal objected, “for any other reason than so that he can meet the village idiot.”
“If a woman makes a man feel foolish—like the village idiot, as you put it—the man would be wise to take it as a sign she is paying close attention to him,” Brandy explained. “All women like to see men they are interested in struggle.”
“They do?”
“Oh, yes,” Brandy explained with a sparkle in her eyes. “Particularly men like you who do not seem like the struggling kind. We like that the best of all.”
“Are you poking fun at me?”
“Oh no, John! Well, maybe a little.”
“You’re just guessing,” Randal said. “Jane hasn’t actually told anyone what she thinks about me.”
What Jane had told Brandy was that she really enjoyed being with the American officer, but she was not sure if he was very smart. Neither she nor Brandy considered not being very smart much of a drawback in a man, however.
Since she definitely could not tell him that story, Brandy said, “I cannot reveal anything Jane told me about you directly. That would be breaking a confidence. On the other hand, it would not be violating a trust, would it, if I tell you something Jane said to someone else about you and then that person told me?”
“You sure you didn’t go to law school?”
“If I do tell, John,” Brandy leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “you have to reveal to me some Most Secret, ‘if you tell anyone else you have to kill them’ kind of thing, that has happened between you and Jane.”
“Like what, Brandy?”
“Has she ever caused you to do something completely crazy, or have you two ever done anything that was totally out of character, where you felt like you were spinning completely out of control?”
“Well, I . . . . ah, stopped a train to call Jane.”
“How could you possibly make a train stop?”
“A secret code word—it’s a long story.”
“All right, you stopped a train, then what?”
“Then I got off and phoned her office.”
“This is terrific, John. Did you have something hugely important to say to her?”
“No.”
“Really, what happened?”
“Well, instead of being impressed, Jane just started giggling.”
Brandy’s sparkling eyes got big. “Oh, that’s good.”
“That I stopped a train to make a phone call?”
“No, John,” Brandy exclaimed breathlessly. “A giggle is a dead giveaway.”
“It is?” Major Randal asked doubtfully. “Well, I don’t know—”
“Take my word for it. A woman does not giggle at a man unless she is head-over-heels about him or does not care about him at all, and I happen to know she is mad about you, John. This is good,” Brandy repeated solemnly. “Trust me, this is definitely good.”
“Now, want to hear the crazy, out-of-control part?” Major Randal asked, looking straight into Brandy’s golden eyes. “After I got back on the train, a few minutes later it was all I could do to keep from stopping it again and calling her back from the next station just to hear her giggle one more time.”
“Oh, I love you, John Randal,” Brandy laughed, her eyes dancing in the candlelight. “I do. It took a real man to tell that story. I am having the most fun!”
“You’re not going to make me regret this, are you?” Major Randal asked, already regretting it.
“I shall accept the cigarette, they will have to give me a blindfold, naturally, but even when they stand me against the pockmarked wall, I shall never tell.” Brandy put her hand over her heart. “Girl Guide’s honor.”
“Somehow I have a hard time picturing you in a Girl Guide uniform. Your turn, Brandy,” Major Randal said, wishing he had not told her the whole story. Brandy Seaborn had that kind of affect on him; she was like a hypnotic drug.
“John, you have to promise me you will never reveal to a soul what I am about to say to you,” Brandy pleaded. “If you do I shall be a dead woman.”
“You have my word.”
“Pamala told me you were the most terrific looking man she had ever seen,” Brandy said, nodding her wheat-colored head. “Now that is a BIG compliment coming from her.”
“Royal Marine Plum-Martin said Jane told her that?”
“No, that’s what Pamala said about you,” Brandy laughed. “She and Jane met you at the train station when you came back from Commando exercises in Scotland. You were wearing your new green beret and must have been through some really rugged training because she said you looked ‘tough as hell’ and without a doubt you were ‘the sexiest man alive.’”
“What does that have to do with Jane?”
“When you were getting off the train, Jane told Pamala that being around you always made her feel dizzy.”
“Does Jane know we’re having this dinner?”
Brandy artfully dodged the question. “I have been trying to talk to Jane for two days but have not been able to get in touch with her, which is very unusual. I was surprised she was not at Seaborn House to welcome you home. Where is she, John?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, too bad for Jane. She is missing great fun tonight.”
“Tell me something, Brandy. If you don’t understand what a curve ball is, how did you know what a leadoff hitter was?”
“Richard told me to explain it to you that way.”
“Brandy, you didn’t make that dizzy part up, did you?”
“No, I most certainly did not!” the golden girl retorted indignantly. “I have the clear impression, Johnny Randal, you have had quite a lot of experience with women but you do not know the first thing about relationships. I believe you and Jane are perfect for each other. I thought it the first time I saw you two together. Everyone knows it . . . except you. Quite possibly you may be the village idiot!”