CHAPTER 13
I hadn’t planned to say that, but I realized if he was to really understand, then he had to know it all. Even the sordid bits I would rather hide.
He didn’t speak for a moment, the weight of my revelation heavy between us, and I began to wonder if he meant to gloss over it, to ignore it as many men would have done. But then I felt his hand on my back as he gathered me closer to his side. His warmth and scent assaulted my senses, making me fight back the tears I’d only recently stifled.
“No wonder you’re still furious at me,” he murmured into my temple, his lips brushing my skin there. “I never thought beyond what I had to do. I never imagined it would affect you so. I’m sorry, Ver.” His words were anguished. “If something had happened to you . . . because of me, because you believed me dead . . .” He breathed in sharply. “I would never have forgiven myself.”
I pressed a hand to the dark wool of his coat. “Well, nothing did. At least, nothing insurmountable.”
I lifted my face to look up at him and his fingers gently touched my cheek. His eyes darkened, and I could tell he wanted to kiss me, even though doing so would be terribly indecorous. Despite that, I thought he might shock the other passengers anyway, but he restrained himself. I’m not sure I didn’t feel more breathless from longing him to do so than I would have had he actually done as he wished.
“Your cheeks are cool. Perhaps we should go inside.”
I swallowed. “In a moment.”
He nodded, and I rested my head against his chest.
We stood silently side by side as the ferry sliced through the water, the choppy waves of the channel slapping against its hull. Sidney widened his stance to steady us as the boat dropped over a rolling wave.
“What’s the plan once we reach Belgium?” he asked. “Where are we going?”
“Brussels first, I think. Then perhaps Liège. We’ll have to see what my former colleague can tell us.” I lifted my head as he flicked open the cigarette case he still clutched in his hand. “Another?” I was hesitant to pester him, but something had to be said. “Don’t you think perhaps you smoke too much?”
He grimaced. “Probably. I got used to doing so in the trenches. It was the only thing that dampened the smells.” He exhaled a long breath and closed the case before sliding it back into his pocket. “Ready to get out of this wind now?”
“If you can find us a place to sit in that crush.” I nodded over my shoulder toward the packed cabins.
That’s when I saw the gentleman standing a few feet to our right along the rail. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, but that did not conceal the fact that he was wearing a copper mask. As if sensing my notice, he pushed away from the rail and retreated toward the cabins.
Though he’d done nothing more suspicious than walk away, the hairs on the back of my neck tingled in alarm. Madame Zozza’s warning echoed in my head, and whether it was nonsense or not, I’d decided to heed it.
“Excuse me, sir,” I called after him, swiveling to follow.
But rather than pause to address me, he lengthened his stride.
“Excuse me,” I tried again, lifting my hand.
However, he never turned to look, merely disappeared around the side of the cabin.
“Darling?” Sidney inquired in confusion.
By the time I rounded the corner after the man, there was no one there but a pair of older ladies in dark hats covered in a profusion of netting. I clenched my hands in frustration, wondering where he could have gone, and if I should continue to pursue him.
“What is it?” Sidney asked, catching up to me.
“There was a man. He seemed to be listening to us. And when he realized I’d noticed him, he darted around this corner.”
“The fellow in the mask?”
I nodded.
His eyes surveyed the deck. “You’re thinking of Madame Zozza’s caution to beware a man in a mask.” He frowned. “And you think that was him?”
“I have no idea. But it could be.”
“Maybe this fellow was just embarrassed to be caught looking,” he suggested, though I could tell he wasn’t convinced of that himself. “After all, most of those poor chaps who have to visit the Tin Noses Shop simply want to blend in, not be noticed.”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But there was another incident yesterday. A man who was at the séance in Madame Zozza’s parlor—I never learned his name—was seated nearby on a bench in St. James’s Park while I conferred with George. And I swear he was following me away from Charing Cross the day before that after I’d spoken to another former colleague.”
He nodded toward the empty deck. “Was this the same man?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think it could have been. This man was taller, and he moved differently.” I narrowed my eyes. Except there had been something about this fellow that seemed familiar. Something I couldn’t quite place.
“Well, then, I doubt they’re connected.” He arched his eyebrows. “Unless you think your admirer hired an assistant.”
“That does seem rather farfetched.” Except I felt certain that whatever about the man was tugging at my memory, it had something to do with my time spent in German-occupied Belgium.
Maybe it had been a German officer I recalled who lurked in much the same manner. I’d assisted Emilie in delivering the baby of a local woman the officer had taken up with. Or forced himself upon. The line between such distinctions was very thin during the war. Many times, the women who had been raped had no choice but to welcome the attentions of their aggressors, especially if they already had hungry little mouths to feed.
It was nothing but a fleeting impression. With the man on the boat wearing a mask, I hadn’t seen enough of him to know if he was that German officer or someone else. But it unsettled me nonetheless.
“Come on,” Sidney urged me. “I could do with a warm cup of tea.”
“Yes, that does sound lovely,” I replied, allowing him to lead me away. Perhaps we’d find the man in the mask doing the same, though I doubted it. I suspected he would remain hidden until we docked. Regardless, I vowed to keep my eyes peeled. For if a former German officer was following me, one who had a connection to both Emilie and me during the war, he could hold the answer to this mystery.
* * *
Before the war, Ostend had been a popular holiday destination, chiefly during the summer months when tourists flocked to its beaches, and filled its casino and theaters to capacity every night. However, it had been heavily shelled by the Allies during the war as they attempted to drive out the German invaders, reducing many of its buildings to rubble. Now eight months after the armistice, the work of restoration and rebuilding had begun.
As such, though most of the debris had been cleared away, the various construction projects blocked streets and created a maze of roadways. I had thought to avoid this by traveling to Brussels via the canals and rivers that ran through Belgium, but Sidney had other plans.
I’d been surprised to discover his prized Pierce-Arrow in the belly of the boat and had warned him the thoroughfares would still be in a state of disrepair. He’d brushed this off, unconcerned, so I’d happily settled into the passenger seat as he navigated his way out of the harbor town onto the road that would take us through Ghent to Brussels. In truth, it would be easier to have our own mode of transportation, particularly when we left Brussels and headed into the countryside. The number of private vehicles had been scarce during the war, confiscated by the Germans, and the country was still struggling to replace such motorcars. As such, there was no guarantee we would have been able to find one to borrow.
I glanced behind us as we made a sharp right turn to avoid a blockade. The motorcar would also make it more difficult for anyone to follow us, if in fact someone was.
Irrespective of the advantages, I was relieved to see he’d elected not to take any chances with the limited provisions Belgium might have to offer. Several extra petrol tanks were strapped to the car, as well as a spare tire.
“Is that where you were all night? Outfitting the motorcar?” I raised my voice to be heard over the roar of the engine, as we gathered speed when the road began to widen and the old buildings in various states of disrepair began to fall away.
“Once my temper cooled and I could view things a little more objectively, yes.”
I hesitated to ask, but I was curious what exactly had changed his mind. “Objectively?”
He sighed, reclining further back in his seat. “I realized you were right. That this situation isn’t so very different from the one we faced on Umbersea Island.” His brow furrowed. “When you discovered I was alive and that I’d lied, luring you there under false pretenses, you could have told me to go to the devil. But you didn’t. You leapt right in to help me. Partly because I asked, and partly because it’s in your nature.” He flicked a glance at me. “I know you. You have to uncover the truth, in everything. I believe I even said as much. And if it was true then, then it’s still true now. I can’t expect that to change simply because it’s not convenient.”
I felt a little stunned to hear him state it so succinctly. I wanted to argue that my motives were not so simplistic, but in essence, they were.
Sidney yawned and blinked his eyes wide several times.
“Then did you get any rest at all last night?” I asked in concern.
Having only snatched a few hours myself, I felt fatigue dragging at my bones. I could only imagine how tired he must feel, dashing about all night and then motoring south from London to Folkestone.
“I’ll be all right. It’s just a few hours to Brussels. Why do you wish to go there first?”
“Don’t try to distract me,” I chided. “You look as if you’re about to fall asleep at the wheel. Why don’t you pull over and let me drive?”
He smiled as if he found my surly tone amusing. “Truly, Ver. I’m fine. I survived many a battle on less sleep than this. I can get us to Brussels in one piece. Just . . . keep me talking.”
I rolled my eyes at the foolish obstinacy of men. The soft green hills of the Flemish countryside now opened before us and I was relieved to see that many of the fields that had lain fallow were now sown with crops. Stalks of wheat, barley, and hops swayed in the summer breeze, separated here and there by narrow canals. Rustic farms dotted the landscape, with their traditional red roof tiles and pale clay-finished Kalei brick walls. Further to the west stood the remains of an old windmill, its roof and sails damaged by a shell.
I shifted in the seat to see Sidney better, casting another glance over my shoulder at the road behind us. Far in the distance I could see the shiny fender of another motorcar cresting a hill, but nothing close enough to suggest we were being tailed.
“I’ve been watching to make sure we weren’t followed since we left the boat,” my husband said. His eyes flicked toward the wing mirror. “If we are, they’re either being extremely cautious about it or they’ve got a hayburner of a car.” A smug smile stretched his mouth. “Though there’s few that can keep up with the engine in this beauty.”
A thought occurred to me as he was singing his Pierce-Arrow’s praises. “If you knew you were going to join me, why didn’t you intercept me before I left the flat this morning? I could have driven down to the coast with you.” I tilted my head to the side. “Or were you still hoping I might change my mind?”
My husband was not the sort of person prone to fidgeting. His normal state was cool and collected, sometimes infuriatingly so. But there was a difference between composed and rigid.
“I didn’t return to the flat until after you left,” he replied smoothly enough, but there had been too long a pause before his answer.
I narrowed my eyes, sensing there was something he wasn’t telling me. “Lucky the boat didn’t leave earlier.”
“Hmm, yes.”
“Or that I didn’t take the one bound for Calais which departed earlier.”
He pressed a fist over his mouth, stifling a yawn. “Yes. Now tell me, why are we headed to Brussels? Do you think this Emilie will be there?”
I wasn’t fooled for a moment that he’d told me everything, but I allowed the matter to drop. For now.
“I doubt she’s in Brussels.” I turned to gaze out over the passing scenery. It seemed surreal to think of how not so long ago, the guns had roared in the distance and whistling shells had shattered the tranquility of this peaceful setting. The very scent of the damp soil and the air rich with grass and wildflowers stirred memories of this landscape.
I studied Sidney’s profile, wondering if it evoked memories for him, too. Though he had been stationed along the Somme for much of the war, not in Flanders, and the terrain and soil composition there were different.
“But I know Captain Landau is there,” I continued. “He was the man I mentioned who was in charge of the military section of our Rotterdam Station. I worked closely with him in the latter years of the war. And I know he’s been assigned to Brussels since the armistice, working to liquidate the British intelligence networks in Belgium and northeastern France.”
“You think he might know where she is?”
“If we’re lucky, she’s still living in the same place she was during the war. The place I’m familiar with.” I sighed. “But somehow I don’t think it’s that simple. I’m hoping Landau may know where she is. But if not, maybe he’ll know how to find her.”
“And what of these threats Ryde told you an old colleague mentioned?”
“Yes, I’m hoping Landau has some more information he can share with me about that as well.”
Sidney must have sensed I was holding something back, “You think he won’t?” He darted a swift glance at me before returning his eyes to the road. “Or you don’t know if he’ll share it with you?”
I should have known he would guess. After all, he’d spent four and a half years in the trenches as first a lieutenant and then a captain, being forced to blindly follow the orders of officers far behind the front. Officers who often didn’t share the information they possessed, and who weren’t required to explain their decisions to subordinates.
I grimaced. “When I visited my colleagues at Whitehall Court, they were less than forthcoming.”
“But you said you worked closely with this Captain Landau?”
I nodded.
“And you said he’s working with a limited staff. So perhaps he’ll appreciate your initiative.”
“He always appreciated it before. Truthfully, he was one of the least narrow-minded of the lot. He grew up on a farm in the Transvaal of South Africa, and he shared a bit with me about his mother, who I gather is a strong, resourceful, eminently capable woman, so I think that accounts for it.”
“She must have been one tough dame. Particularly given the fact that for a period of her life the Boer War must have been going on.”
“It was. His father was caught up in it.”
Sidney’s eyes met mine, perhaps comprehending for the first time just how young Captain Landau was. “I’m curious to meet this fellow.”
“Yes, I always suspected the two of you would get along famously.”
* * *
It being late in the day by the time we reached Brussels, we found a hotel for the night near The Grand Place, surrounded by its beautiful, Gothic buildings. Fortunately, the city stood far enough from the front to avoid the shells, which had damaged so many other cities. I’d always loved Brussels, having stayed there a number of times before the war on the way to visit my great-aunt where she lived near Münster, Germany.
As we stretched our legs, looking for a restaurant for dinner, I was relieved to see that much of the drab state of disrepair that had marked the city during the war had faded away. The shops that had sat closed or nearly empty, unable to replace their inventory, were open again. And while still not filled to their pre-war standards, it was good to see the customers bustling in and out.
There were notices about the impending celebrations for Belgian National Day, their first since the armistice, and the city displayed the country’s fiercely independent spirit proudly. Who could blame them after such a long and terrible war and occupation? Streamers in Belgium’s national colors and flags festooned many of the buildings, while signs announced “Vive la Belgique!” I couldn’t help but smile.
The following morning, we made our way to the rue Stevin, not far from the British Embassy and the large green space of Parc du Cinquantenaire with its grand triumphal arch, built to celebrate the country’s fiftieth year of independence many years earlier. The building where Captain Landau lived and worked was lined with charming stone town houses. A young clerk opened the door to our knock and ushered us inside before scurrying out on his own errand.
I breathed my first sigh of relief that the young man hadn’t told us Captain Landau was out of town. I was well aware of the great deal of travel his task required, interviewing several thousand agents scattered about Belgium and northeastern France, so to find him in residence was a stroke of luck.
However, my pleasure at such fortuitous timing did not last long.
No sooner had we strolled through the door into the echoing entry hall than a familiar voice rang out. “Verity Kent, is that really you?”
I looked up into a pair of laughing eyes.
“By Jove! It is you.” He crossed the room to take my hand in his. “And dash if it isn’t good to see you.”
I blinked up at him, feeling rather stunned.
“And this must be your long-lost husband, resurrected from the dead.” He shook Sidney’s hand. “Good to meet you, old chap. Any man capable of securing our girl’s affection must be a dashed fine fellow.”
This was spoken without a trace of irony, and nearly made me choke. Recovering myself with some effort, I gestured to the man before us. “Sidney, this is Lieutenant Alec Xavier.”
“It’s captain now,” he corrected me good-naturedly.
I shook my head. “Yes, of course.” I forced a smile. “It’s good to see you, too. I hadn’t expected to. Lord Ryde gave me the impression you were traveling.”
He grinned that same blinding smile I remembered. The one that enabled him to gain information from just about any susceptible female in the near vicinity. “I’m always traveling. In fact, I’m off from Brussels this afternoon, so it’s my great fortune to be here now to see you arrive.”
“Yes, how fortunate.”
If he could hear the reluctance in my voice, he didn’t show it.
“But what brings you back to Belgium?” He paused to search both my and Sidney’s faces. “From your expressions, I doubt this is a social call.”
I glanced up at my husband, seeing the watchfulness in his gaze. He evidently noticed my shock and discomfort, and if I didn’t pull myself together quickly, it was only a matter of time before he put two and two together.
“Given your encounter with Lord Ryde at the War Office, I’m sure you’re well aware that we’re here for information,” I replied, arching my eyebrows in gentle reproof. I might be out of practice, but I was not going to fall victim to such an obvious ploy for our confidence.
His whiskey brown eyes gleamed. He always had enjoyed sparring. “About La Dame Blanche. About the threats to its agents. Then I suppose you’re really here to see Landau.” He tipped his head to the right. “Come with me.”
We followed him into another room, this one filled with the rapid click of typewriters, and across to a door. He rapped twice and then opened it to poke his head in.
“Oh, good. You’re alone.” He opened the door wider. “Guess who’s here to pay us a call?”
I was gratified to see Captain Landau’s face break into a smile at the sight of me. He wasn’t an altogether unattractive man, though his small eyes and round face were rather dominated by a misshapen nose, and his ears that stood out from either side of his head like the handles of a Grecian urn. However, he was possessed of a sharp wit, a natural manner with people of all stripes, and an incredibly quick mind—all of which had propelled him into his position at such a young age and helped him to succeed. That, and his command of multiple languages. It was from him that I’d learned much of my Dutch.
“Mrs. Kent, what a lovely surprise! And of course, this must be your husband I’ve heard so much about.” He shook his hand heartily. “Quite a sacrifice you made going undercover like that to capture those traitors. I admire you terribly for it.”
Sidney appeared staggered by these words. “Oh, well, thank you.”
“It couldn’t have been easy, especially keeping it all from Mrs. Kent.” He glanced at me in question. “You didn’t know, did you?”
I shook my head. “Not an inkling.”
His face relaxed again. “I thought not. Mrs. Kent was always remarkably cool and capable. Had to be to fool all those Germans. But for her to have feigned such grief would have to make her the greatest actress of our time.” He gestured toward the chairs before his desk before rounding to resume his seat. “I worried after her, you know. Concerned she might do something imprudent and get herself caught, or worse. But she came through it all well enough.”
It was maddening how people could talk of my grief over the loss of my husband as if it was some jolly jest, all forgotten for the best now that he was discovered to be alive. But as always, I swallowed my annoyance and straightened my skirt as I settled into the left chair while Sidney took the right. Xavier leaned against the wall, hovering at the edge of my field of vision.
In any case, Landau was wrong on one point. I had done something imprudent. It just hadn’t gotten me captured or killed.
But I should have known he would sense some of my turmoil. “When I read about your survival in the newspapers, I was extraordinarily happy to hear it.” He gazed at me fondly. “Couldn’t have happened to a better lady.”
I returned his smile with a gentle one of my own.
He clasped his hands in front of him. “But what brings you to Brussels? I suspect this isn’t strictly a social call.”
“I’m afraid not.” I glanced at Xavier, who was eyeing me with interest.
Landau’s gaze traveled over Sidney. “I suppose you’ve read Mr. Kent into whatever the situation is. Impossible to avoid, really.”
“Yes,” I replied, relieved he hadn’t questioned this decision.
“But shall I ask Captain Xavier to leave?”
I considered this and then shook my head. “No, he may know something we don’t.” Then I inhaled a deep breath, electing to dive straight to the heart of the matter. “I need some information on the whereabouts of one of the agents I worked with from La Dame Blanche. I’m worried she may be in danger.”
For a moment I thought I’d shocked him, but then he tipped his head back and laughed. “Well, by Jove, if the old darb wasn’t right. C said he suspected you’d be coming to see me about just such a thing, and here you are.”