Elena awoke the next morning to find the curtains wide open, sunlight streaming in through the window, and one of the maids standing beside her bed with a breakfast tray carefully balanced on one hand.
“Good morning, Miss Standish. I’m sorry to waken you, but Mrs. Driscoll said you wouldn’t want to miss church, and I thought you’d like at least a boiled egg and a cup of tea before you go.”
Elena sat up slowly, then took the tray to put on her lap. She was still half asleep. “Thank you. Yes, of course I would. What time is it? I must have slept for hours.”
“It’s half past seven, ma’am. That gives you plenty of time for your breakfast and cup of tea. Should I pour it for you, ma’am? They leave for the church at a quarter past nine. It’s not very far, only about ten minutes. That’ll give you time to get seated without a rush.”
“Quite right. To be late would be discourteous,” Elena said.
“Yes, ma’am, indeed it would.”
“Most thoughtful of you, thank you. Yes, if you would pour the tea, I’d be grateful.” She gave a quick smile of appreciation and took off the top of the egg, ready to begin. The toast was already buttered and still warm.
“Yes, ma’am. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, no, thank you. This is perfect.”
The maid smiled and went out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Elena began to eat, and then the reality of the night’s discovery landed on her. She put down the spoon. It had not been a dream…or a nightmare. She and Allenby had indeed found where Repton was murdered.
She did her best to finish the egg and some of the toast, but her thoughts shifted to Margot. What if she married Geoffrey, and it turned out that the family supported the growing ranks of Nazi sympathizers?
She got out of bed, then washed and dressed hastily. Thank heavens for Mrs. Smithers’s forethought as to what to wear. She had the perfect dark, discreet dress—and a hat! She would never have thought of that herself. And the dress fit as if it had been made for her. It was dark navy, perfectly cut to flatter her figure with a plain, tailored bodice and a slim, finely pleated skirt. It was fairly long, even by the day’s standards, but very flattering. She was surprised by the grace of it when she looked at herself in the mirror. Margot might not have liked this color on her, but Elena herself thought it was stunning! And best of all, with disquiet all around her, she didn’t have to make any decisions about what was appropriate for church and what was not.
She finished her cup of tea, put the tray on the end of the bed, then found the navy shoes that would go with her dress and tried on the hat. She thought it looked far too plain and a bit harsh. It sat back on her head. She gave it another look. Yes, it was unflattering, to say the least.
There was a knock on the door. She was not ready to face Margot yet. “Come in,” she called.
It was Allenby who came in and closed the door behind him. He surveyed the room and the tray on the end of the bed.
“Good, you’ve eaten. We need to do this. Sorry the timing is so bad, and that it’s so early, but we can’t afford to miss church. It looks like sulking if we don’t go.”
“You don’t need to explain that to me,” she said a little sharply.
“Who the hell picked that hat?” he asked.
“Mrs. Smithers. It looks awful, I know.”
He walked right up to her and adjusted the hat, pulling it around and several inches farther forward until it shaded half of her face, then tugged it a little to one side, over her left eye.
She looked at herself in the mirror. The hat was rakish now, and actually quite striking, even beautiful. “Thank you,” she said, somewhat less graciously than she meant. It was annoying to have a man teach her how to wear a hat.
Allenby did not bother attempting to hide his amusement. “You are a constant surprise. You achieve the impossible quite easily, rise to the occasion with courage and dignity, act the perfect agent and discover murder sites, and then make a total mess of putting on a hat!”
“I must want to make you feel needed!” she snapped.
“Then I had better not teach you any more or I shall become completely superfluous,” he replied, smiling as if she had paid him a compliment. “Are you ready to go? We don’t want to be the last to the door. I presume you know how to behave in church? I ask because I know Lucas is agnostic, at least that is what he says he is. I think he actually finds the Church’s words too far from the words of Christ in the New Testament and he cannot bear it.”
She wanted to argue, but actually she was surprised that Allenby knew about this. It was disconcerting. “I understand what is expected of me,” she replied instead. “And to keep my mouth shut.” She wanted to add her concerns for Margot, but she could not form the words. Besides, she was quite sure he knew how she felt.
“That will do very well,” he replied, opening the door onto the landing and then closing it behind them.
It required two cars to take them all the mile and a half to the beautiful stone church in the village. There was plenty of room for them to park and then walk the short distance to the exquisite arched doorway of the entrance and inside to silence that seemed almost tangible. There were a few people there before them, perhaps twenty or so.
The Wyndham family had their own pew, and on this occasion David and Griselda sat in front with Prudence and Landon Rees. Margot and Geoffrey took the pew behind, with Elena and Allenby following them. Elena sat next to Margot.
The family nodded politely to people they knew, and Geoffrey pointed out Algernon Miller, the chief constable, to the visitors.
The organist took his place and began to play softly. Gradually, the church filled up until there seemed barely room for everyone.
Elena was surprised. This was no particular feast day or memorial that she knew of. She looked at Allenby, but he shook his head as if equally perplexed.
It was soon explained. A solemn procession came up the aisle, led by grave-faced choristers in black and white and groups of boys behind them in sober dark clothes, definitely their Sunday best. They all went to the choir stalls on either side of the altar. The vicar appeared, dressed in cassock and surplice, and then the man whom the congregation apparently had been waiting for, a bishop in full regalia.
As he passed them all on his way to conduct the service, there were gasps of breath. Some parishioners were surprised, others were clearly in awe.
Elena turned to Margot. “Who is he?” she whispered.
“Bishop Lamb,” Margot whispered back without looking at her. “He’s very popular. As you can see, he fills the church.”
Elena smiled and nodded. She was so far unimpressed except by the crowded seats, which were unusual in any church. It was early to be up and dressed in the finery she saw around her on the one morning when most people could lie a little longer in bed and take a lazy breakfast.
Everything that followed was predictable. It was a standard morning communion such as Elena could remember surprisingly well from her school days. The words were beautiful and never varied. It was vaguely comforting in its unchanging order.
Elena could not imagine what Margot was going to make of this. Was she expected to attend every Sunday? Or was there something special about this one? Was she even thinking of a wedding here one day, perhaps?
The congregation went through the rituals, and then the bishop stepped forward to give the sermon. There was a slight rustle in the body of the church as people sat to attention, eyes fixed forward, and then utter silence. No one fidgeted, no one seemed even to move. Every head faced forward.
“My friends,” the bishop began. “I came today to speak to you of peace. Of peace, of forgiveness, of the healing of old wounds, even of forgiveness of those who have been our enemies. In the eyes of God, perhaps none of us deserves forgiveness, but we all need it. And no matter what you have done, or what was left undone, there can be forgiveness. Blessed are those who are forgiven by God!” He hesitated for a second or two, then continued. “But even more, blessed are they who forgive! That is when we are closest to God. We all have things we would wish with all our hearts to have forgiven. Some are big things, some are small. Some are only errors of judgment, mistakes we now regret. But I say unto you, all can be forgiven! If we will forgive.”
He smiled and made a gesture with his arms as if to include everyone.
“There are some things that are hard to forgive. I would not for a moment deny that. It is not easy! But God requires it of us. And I promise you, as you forgive, so God will forgive every sin of your own, however large or however trivial. Read your Scriptures, seek it and you will find it! No burden is too heavy for the Lord to carry, if you will forget arrogance, judgment, your own desire…so stop your judgment of others. Who are we to judge? Judge not, and you shall not be judged. Put down your burdens of guilt, anger, and blame, and walk uprightly before the Lord.”
He read several Scriptures from the New Testament, telling of Christ’s mercy, beginning with the story of the woman taken in adultery.
Elena remembered it vividly from school. She had asked the divinity teacher why, if the woman was taken in the act and the men who judged her were willing to stone her to death, nothing was said or done to the man involved in the sin. Elena had been disciplined for being contentious, argumentative, and disbelieving. She had thought it a very relevant question. And she had never received an answer.
But this was not Bishop Lamb’s point.
“Judge not,” he continued, “and you shall not be judged. Come with a contrite heart, love even your enemies, and God will wipe your sins out of existence, wash them away so not even the angels will remember them. Do you wish for eternity with God and His angels? Do you wish to be without stain? Then lay at His feet your anger; your wounds, however justified; and your rage or loss and walk away afraid of nothing. Free, pure, guiltless before the Lord. If they have been causing you to grieve, let go of your anger—God will deal with them. They are not your grief, or your burden to carry!”
Elena looked at Allenby sitting next to her. His face was full of interest, as if he were memorizing every word. But when she glanced down at his hands in his lap, his knuckles were white. She wanted to ask him why, but she knew he would not answer her until they were alone. She would have to wait.
They drove home with Prudence and Landon Rees, making polite conversation. Leaving the car for one of the servants to park in a garage, they went inside.
“I will just go upstairs and take off my hat,” Elena told the others with a smile.
“Me, too,” Prudence echoed and went quickly upstairs.
Allenby followed without explaining himself, leaving Landon Rees to wander toward the sitting room alone.
Elena went to her room, trusting that Allenby would follow. She took off her hat and put it on the top shelf of the wardrobe. Soon there was a light tap on her door.
“Come in,” she answered.
Allenby entered and closed the door behind him. He seemed worried and a little pale.
“What is it?” she asked, concerned.
Looking grave, he turned and locked the door, then moved back to face her. “Did you actually listen to that sermon?”
“Yes. Very emotional, but scriptural. Bishop Lamb packed everything up with the appropriate references. Why, James?”
“Love thine enemy? Forgive others so that you can be forgiven? Turn the other cheek? Don’t hold a grudge?” he quoted.
“It’s a pretty standard theme,” she answered, confused.
“Is that what you feel about Hitler?” His voice was harsh with disbelief. “You told me you were in Munich for the Night of the Long Knives. If you forgive that, say it was all right, is that good? Forgive the Brownshirts; they don’t really mean any harm? Don’t bear a grudge for all the Jews they’ve humiliated and murdered and are still humiliating and murdering every day? It’s all right if we let that happen, stand by and watch?”
“No!” she said sharply. “Of course not. I think what he meant was…” She stopped. Perhaps Allenby was right. “Do you think people would take it that he meant the Nazis? That we should ally with them and not see the ugly things they do, as if it were no responsibility of ours? But James—”
“Pass by on the other side and pretend we haven’t noticed?” he said. “We can look the other way, profit by it, and hold no blame? Really? Do you believe that?” His face was hurt, dark with anger. “As long as you don’t think about it and realize what it means.”
“For God’s sake, you know me better than that! I…” She trailed off.
He put out his hand and touched her with surprising gentleness. “You hear exactly what he wants you to hear. That it’s not your fault, that you are not responsible. That you should not expect any accountability. Was that how you felt in Berlin, when Jacob helped you? And his other friends who took you in and—”
“Yes, all right! Of course I don’t. I just didn’t see his sermon in that way. The man is a bishop! I expect him to…” She saw his face and stopped.
Allenby’s anger suddenly evaporated. His face became gentle, even tender. “Of course you did. He’s supposed to know right from wrong, however big a muddle it is. The appeasers do say ‘Never again,’ that we must never again allow the horror and death of the trenches of the Great War. They believe there must never again be such nightmares—nothing could be worse than that. That is Bishop Lamb’s position. Only there is one thing worse, and you’ve seen it begin in Germany. You’ve seen the long knives; you’ve seen Jews persecuted by their own countrymen—neighbors and friends who were trusted. Isn’t that worse than at least knowing your enemies are different, not your neighbors, not your family? I’d rather meet the enemy in a blood-soaked trench than outside the doors of my own house. Or, God help us, inside my own house.”
“Oh.” She felt stupid, naïve, incompetent.
“And now we have this situation,” he said, looking out the window. “I’m certain now that Repton was killed here, which opens an entirely new window of concerns.”
“Margot,” Elena said, her voice filled with sadness.
“Yes, and she won’t want to believe it.” Before Elena could argue, he quickly added, “To believe it would mean the end of her dreams, Elena.”
He touched her cheek so softly that she barely felt it. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, twice. Then he turned away and left the room.
She stared at the door. There was much to do while she was here. Allenby would keep. And the kiss—what did that mean? Probably only that they were on the same side.
After freshening up, Elena descended the staircase and joined the others. A table was set, its elegance informing her that Sunday lunch was celebrated as a special event here, an extension of their time together in church.
She took a seat across from Margot, looking up and smiling when Allenby joined her. There was an energy in the room, an expectation. Elena was waiting for Allenby to bring up the subject of Lamb’s sermon, with a segue into what he had meant and the question of whether the forgiveness was meant to be applied to the Germans, but Geoffrey ended that possibility when he stood quickly and tapped his knife against the crystal water goblet.
He took a deep breath, beaming. “Attention, all,” he announced before turning to Margot. He took her hand and she stood. He placed his arm around her shoulders. “We were going to wait until this evening, but everyone is here and the moment seems right.”
Elena held her breath, thinking that this was the height of poor timing.
“Margot has agreed to be my wife!” Geoffrey declared.
“Brava, Margot!” Griselda proclaimed. She stood, walked to the other side of the table, and embraced first Margot and then her brother.
Elena exchanged glances with Allenby, then reminded herself that there was a role she needed to play. She immediately went to Margot’s side and embraced her. “Wonderful!” she said, and then whispered in her sister’s ear, “Be happy, dear Margot.”
It took several minutes for the gaiety to calm. Two members of the staff arrived, one carrying several large bottles of champagne and the other a tray of champagne flutes.
Elena was relieved now that the political discussion had been avoided. This was Margot’s special moment, and she wanted it to be memorable for the right reasons. But knowing this, believing this, did not stop the current of fear running through her.