Elena Standish pulled her car into the driveway of her grandparents’ house. In some ways, it was the home she knew best. Her father had been the British ambassador to a few European countries during her childhood, and it had been exciting, varied, beautiful, and full of discovery. She felt at home in Madrid, Paris, and Berlin. But everybody needed a heart’s home. Certainly she did, and this was it. After her recent terrible experience in Germany and the airplane crash that she had miraculously survived, the sense of feeling safe and loved with her grandparents was all the stronger. Here. The home of Lucas and Josephine Standish.
The love her grandparents showed her was printed so deeply in her memory, as was this house. Over the years, she had noticed small changes, such as a different shade of color on a wall, an old chair replaced, new curtains. These were minor things, of no importance. The things that mattered were all the same. The softly toned Dutch painting of ships in the harbor at dusk, which had hung over the fireplace for as long as she could remember, so realistic she could almost hear the soft lap of the water and smell the salt in the air. And those French doors opening onto the garden, and the deep tone of the mahogany dining table where they all met for Sunday dinners. The blue walls and white ceiling in the quiet bedroom where she had spent so many nights.
In summertime, there were yellow climbing roses around the front doorway, but their season had passed now, and the red tea roses in the front garden were well into their second flush and were dropping petals already.
The front door opened before she reached it, and her grandmother Josephine stood just inside, welcoming her in with her arms wide. Elena walked straight into them and hugged her firmly before bending down to hug Toby.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Josephine said quietly, squeezing her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Grandmother,” Elena reassured her with a tight smile. She knew what Josephine was referring to. She would not have been invited for luncheon today were it not business: her business and Lucas’s. Just over a year ago, she had learned that in the time before the 1914–1918 war, which had devastated Europe and over half the world, Lucas had been in military intelligence, known as MI6. During the second half of that war, and for some time after it, he had been its head. He was retired now, at least nominally. In truth, she knew, he was still there part time.
Elena had started in the civil service after university and, through incidents she preferred not to recall, was now an agent in MI6. It had happened due to a series of events that had tested her courage and ingenuity almost to their breaking points. Now, having been called to this house, she was certain that something new must have arisen. Her grandfather was no longer head of the secret organization, but even in semi-retirement he played a large part in how it functioned.
Lucas stood up from his chair as Elena entered the drawing room. He came forward to hug her, as he always did. Then he took a step back and properly looked at her.
“Lunch first?” She raised her eyebrows. “Shall we pretend nothing is happening yet and enjoy our meal?”
“Will your curiosity allow that?” Amused, he was smiling as he said it.
“Am I going somewhere?” she asked. Then a chill touched her. “Or—”
“It’s something you will probably enjoy,” Josephine interrupted. “Have you met Margot’s latest beau?”
“No. What about him?” She looked from Josephine to Lucas. “Why? Is she going to marry him? Have you met him? Do you like him?”
“No, we haven’t met him,” Lucas replied. “And we don’t know if she cares for him as much as that.”
Suddenly, the chill turned into a definite coldness, which settled inside her like metal cogs falling into place. “You’re uncertain about him, on a professional level.” Her flat tone denied it being a question.
Lucas’s face was almost without expression. “Something very unpleasant has occurred near his sister’s home in the Cotswolds. We need to clear it up, if we can, and at the same time protect Margot, if it should become necessary.”
Elena sat down opposite Lucas. Josephine smiled at her granddaughter and left the room, closing the door behind her. Toby stood up, wagging his tail eagerly before realizing that Lucas was staying put and it was not yet dinnertime.
“Is that likely?” Elena asked, watching Lucas’s face closely, knowing that his expression often gave away more than his words.
“Wyndham Hall is owned by Sir David Wyndham,” Lucas began. “His wife, Griselda, is the sister of Geoffrey Baden, the young man Margot has been seeing romantically.” He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts.
Elena was tempted to interrupt with questions, but over time she had learned not to. He would tell her everything she needed, if he knew it himself.
“There is land and a large amount of money in the family,” Lucas continued. “And more importantly, a great many social connections to people of both power and influence. Lady Wyndham has lately become an acquaintance of the Prince of Wales and now is part of that social circle.”
That was a world far away from any that Elena knew, except for brief, professional excursions as a portrait photographer. Photography was what she had taken up after the disastrous affair that had cost her not only her job in the civil service, but her reputation as well. This field of photography was erratic, sometimes trying her patience and tact to their breaking points, but it took her to many places she might otherwise not have seen. And, more importantly, it was the perfect cover for watching people suspected of espionage or treason without drawing attention to herself. As time passed, she only became better and better at both her photography and her clandestine role. Photography was earning her a very pleasant additional income. One day, she would like to photograph the charming, vulnerable face of the Prince of Wales and, even more, the enigmatic face of Wallis Simpson. But that was only a daydream, and not a very practical one. Now she needed to focus on her grandfather and the mission at hand.
“Why does it concern MI6?” she prompted him.
“Because one of our agents was watching Wyndham Hall, and we have just discovered that he was murdered.” As always, Lucas broke the news candidly. Not as a grandfather to his beloved granddaughter, but as one professional to another. The former was part of a birthright, the latter the highest accolade she could win.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Did you know him?”
“I did, yes, for a very long time. Peter did as well, and James Allenby. His name was John Repton.”
She noticed him watching her intently, scanning her face for any shade of emotional reaction. She did not look away. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It’s terrible to lose a friend, especially that way. Do you think he discovered something at Wyndham Hall?”
“We must consider the possibility,” he said with a nod. “The Wyndhams own extensive land, and Repton’s dead body was thrown into a ditch bordering their property.” His voice wavered slightly, involuntarily.
Elena knew him better than she knew anyone else, and she did not miss this difference.
He leaned forward. “Elena, we need to find out who killed him and moved his body. And above all, why. What had he learned? Who was he moving too close to?”
She was struggling to understand her role. “And you think I can do that? Isn’t it a police job? If he was killed and then moved, there’s unquestionably a crime involved. Or is there some other important element you haven’t told me yet?”
“It is unarguably a crime,” Lucas agreed. “And if left to the police, they will struggle with it for a while, but they don’t know who he was or what he was doing, so their chance of finding out the whole truth is negligible. Added to which, they will not be looking for connections to anyone at Wyndham Hall. In fact, the opposite: They will be deliberately trying not to see, and—”
“And Margot?” she interrupted. “What about her? Can we protect her? If the police make any connections—”
“They won’t, unless they are forced to,” he said with absolute certainty. “But be careful, Elena. If Allenby is right, then the situation is serious. It looks harmless. A tramp found dead in a ditch. Nothing to see here.” For a moment, there was bitterness in his face, and then it disappeared and his voice dropped. “And take care of your sister.”
She was overwhelmed. “I will,” she said, but her promise was more of a squeak than a firm word.
Lucas looked at her. “Allenby will be there, too.”
“How are you going to arrange that?” she asked in disbelief.
“I’m not, you are. If you go there alone, you will be the odd woman at the dinner table, the lunch picnic, and the dance floor, for all I know. You will be an embarrassment to the hostess, and to Margot herself.”
“I can’t help it if—”
He put his hand on her arm. “It’s arranged. Allenby will go as your…whatever you choose to call him. You can be friends, lovers, anything but strangers.”
“You mean anything but the truth!” she said wryly.
He looked at her with sympathy, then a flicker of sudden understanding.
She swallowed hard. “Have you spoken to him about it? Does he agree?” What was she hoping for? That he would? Or that he would not? She would have to play this part with someone. Why not somebody with whom she had played at least something like it before?
“Of course he agrees,” Lucas replied. “He’s a professional.”
She was about to protest that this was not fair when she realized that it was more than fair. The job mattered, and there was no room for personal awkwardness or indecision. And the last thing she wanted was special treatment because she was the granddaughter of Lucas Standish!
“How shall we arrange it?” she asked. “Do you want me to ask Margot to invite me? And should Margot also invite Allenby? Or have you got a better idea of how to do that?”
He smiled. It was a battle of wits. “You will call Margot and say that you want to be there to celebrate her happiness with her. You’ve heard that she is serious about Geoffrey Baden, so you want to meet him. Your parents have not met him because they are abroad. And, by the way, you’ll be bringing your latest romantic interest with you. You have known him a while, but you are not sure how serious you are about him. You would like Margot’s advice.”
“What? Her…advice?” Elena could hear the rise of disbelief in her own voice.
“You find it hard to believe? Make it easy! You won’t find anything more emotionally difficult than what happened in Washington. You did that with great skill. And, if your account is to be believed, aplomb.”
“Did I use the word ‘aplomb’?” she asked incredulously.
Lucas laughed in spite of himself. “Perhaps not that exactly.” Then, in an instant, the humor vanished again. “Find who shot John Repton, Elena,” he said urgently. “And, if at all possible, look after Margot. She may not have any idea what she’s in the middle of. When you are in love, it can delude you into seeing what you want to, and not what you don’t want to be true.”
Elena was quick to Margot’s defense—she knew very well what he meant, since she had fallen into that same trap. She nearly voiced this, but she saw her grandfather’s face, how serious he was, took a deep breath, and said, “Let’s talk about the specifics, and how we’ll arrange this trip.”
By the time Josephine came in to say that lunch was ready, they were laughing in remembrance of an old joke. No one would guess the depth and the delicacy of their plan.
As she was driving her very ordinary-looking car back to her own flat, nearer the center of London, Elena started to think about what she would say to Margot. She would have to be careful not to mention John Repton’s murder or react the wrong way if anyone at Wyndham Hall expressed Nazi sympathies. Margot and Elena were close. They had spent hours together every day, especially when Elena had been a very little girl. Margot had watched Elena learn to sit up, walk, and speak. She had interpreted her wants and satisfied them, like any older sibling might with a baby. Katherine, their mother, had known to hold Margot back, or Elena would have never learned to do anything for herself. If Margot had been given free rein, she would have done everything for her baby sister.
Mike, the brother who was a year older than Margot, had been just as gentle but different. He had been sent away to school well before either of his sisters, so those growing-up years had been spent largely without him.
Later on, when it came to reading and even to adding numbers, it had been Katherine who had taught them to share and play together. When Margot had finally gone to school, Katherine had filled in the sudden absence in Elena’s life.
As the older daughter, Margot had been ahead of Elena in everything. Sometimes this had been good, but at other times, it had been overwhelming. Margot had included her younger sister in all kinds of things, but there had also been those times when she hadn’t needed or wanted a little sister tagging along, and Elena had felt it deeply.
The girls were different in so many ways. Margot had always been more elegant, and she made friends more easily. Elena had to learn to be herself, not a copy of her sister. Margot had married very young, in the closing weeks of the war. Everyone, including Elena, had loved her husband and been happy for her. A week later, the whole family had been devastated by the news of his death.
Before they could pick themselves up, Margot’s husband’s death had been dwarfed by that of their brother, Mike. He had been killed in the same action, when so much of the fighting was over and they had been on the brink of victory.
Margot and Elena had both lost a brother, but Margot had also lost a husband.
Elena forced her thoughts away from the loss of her brother and the pain Margot had suffered, perhaps was still suffering. At this moment, Elena needed to think only of the meeting she’d had with her grandfather. According to Lucas, Allenby had already accepted the assignment to look into Repton’s death. Lucas had said he had put forth no argument, no hesitation to work with Elena at Wyndham Hall. Elena sensed that this was a job that would turn out to matter very much. They would have to focus on John Repton and the possibility—the probability—of his killer living at Wyndham Hall, or at least visiting it regularly. Perhaps someone with Nazi sympathies. Allenby would be fair to Margot, Elena knew that, but she also knew that she herself would be more than fair; she would be loving and protective.
Elena knew she was unlikely to catch Margot at home in her flat, particularly in the evening, when she was often out. She should try now, in the mid-afternoon. This was not something that could wait until a natural opening came. It might be too late by then. And she might have to try several times before she caught Margot at home.
Her sister’s life was utterly different from Elena’s. Her skills and natural arts lay in fashion, charm, conversation, the ability to remember people’s names and what interested them. Yet she showed no interest in photography, the expressions on a human face, the passion and the power and the vulnerability that could be caught by a camera.
As soon as she got in, Elena dialed the telephone.
“Hello,” greeted Margot.
For a moment, Elena’s mind froze.
“Hello?” Margot said a second time.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home!” Elena exclaimed.
Margot’s laugh was warm. “How are you? Haven’t spoken to you for ages. Began to think you were off on a job somewhere.”
“No, just working with a few local people wanting a decent picture of themselves to commemorate this or that. The art is to make them look better than they really are.” She heard herself, her voice light and casual. It was painful that she could not share so much of her life with her sister now, including her brush with death only months earlier.
“How do you do that?” Margot asked.
Elena pulled her mind back to the safe subject of photography. “The right angle, the right light.”
“You are a lot more patient than I would be.”
“Perhaps, but you always know what to say,” Elena countered. “I haven’t mastered that yet, but I’m working on it. In fact…” She took a breath. “I hear there’s someone new in your life. And before you ask, Grandmother Josephine said she’s heard rumors. I would love to meet him! You really do like him? You’re not just having fun?” She tried to get across both the hope and anxiety with her voice. It was a different thing, questioning your sister, from trying to make a false impression on strangers.
She could hear Margot’s laughter, a natural, happy sound, even on the artificial mechanism of the telephone.
“Margot?”
“Yes, of course,” Margot agreed easily. “I would love for you to meet him! Geoffrey Baden, that’s his name. How about you come to Wyndham Hall this weekend and stay a few days?”
Elena smiled. “That sounds perfect!”
“I wish I were there with you to show you what to bring! It’s all frightfully fashionable. Griselda, Geoffrey’s sister, has a great presence, and she wears some marvelous dresses. She’s not beautiful, but she’s desperately elegant! She knows exactly how to make an impression. Other women might be better looking, but she makes them seem…pedestrian.”
“More fashionable than you?” Elena scoffed with disbelief. And it was not just an act. Margot was tall and slender, with dark, sleek hair and dark eyes.
“Well, perhaps not as elegant and fashionable as I am,” Margot agreed, her voice rich with laughter. “I have to find someone for you to bring to dinner; we can’t have an odd number at the table.”
“I’d like to bring James,” Elena added quickly. “James Allenby. Don’t worry, he’s well bred and educated, and he knows how to behave himself.”
“Elena?” Margot sounded happy, excited. “You like him!” That was a statement, not a question. Suddenly, she was very much the older sister again.
Elena forced lifelong memories out of her mind. She was twenty-nine, grown up. “I think so. Not sure yet.”
“Yes, of course bring him. I’ll tell Griselda,” Margot assured her. “There are plenty of guest rooms.”
“You’re sure she won’t mind?” Elena did not care in the slightest whether Griselda minded or not, but it was the sort of thing she would have said a year and a half ago, before Berlin, her narrow escape, and MI6. Margot must not see the change in her. “I’ll try to bring a wardrobe you would approve of,” she quickly added. “I can’t let the family down!”
Margot laughed. “Have you got a paper and pencil? You will have to write down the directions. And tell James to bring the appropriate clothes. Casual is fine for daytime, but it’s definitely black tie for dinner. This is going to be fun. I’m so glad you’re coming!”
“Thank you,” Elena replied. “And I’ll behave. Socially. I swear.”
“Of course you will!” Margot agreed. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t wear blue. With your coloring, it is so ordinary! This is not a time to disappear into the woodwork.”