Elena soon realized that everyone was passing the rest of the morning in their own various ways. Against Allenby’s warning, she could not resist taking a walk in the gardens alone, then returning to her room, stretching out on the bed, and quickly falling into a deep, early, and satisfying nap.
Rested, she descended the stairs and found the others in the larger sitting room. Before she could notice the time, Griselda announced that luncheon would be early, allowing them plenty of time to put up the croquet hoops on the big lawn. Everyone was to be ready to play just before two o’clock.
At first, Elena assumed it would be a leisurely game, presumably played only for fun, but then she thought about the participants. No, this had all the earmarks of a competition, and it would be keen. There was too much emotion underlying the polite exchanges. “Letting off steam” was the phrase that came to mind.
It was very warm in the sun, and the croquet lawn was sheltered by a thick wall of trees whose leaves barely moved in the occasional breath of wind. The men were in shirtsleeves; the women had put aside extra wraps or cardigans.
Elena had not seen Prudence Rees at breakfast. Apparently, she and Landon had gone somewhere away from Wyndham Hall. Elena wondered if they might have wanted to be alone, distanced from the artificial good manners she was seeing in this family house party.
Allenby was the only one not related to anybody here. Elena was acutely aware of this, but she knew it would be intrusive, even offensive, if anyone were to ask what his intentions were toward her.
The game started off formally and quickly became a thinly disguised battle. Griselda was desperately polite, applauding all the shots that were respectable and sympathizing with those that went too far astray. The differences in ability were quickly marked. Naturally, the men were stronger, but it was balanced by the accuracy of the women. Griselda was quietly skilled and smiled with satisfaction when she made a particularly good shot. And there were many of those.
Margot was not experienced at any of the country house games, but she learned quickly, and her natural grace was easily adaptable. Elena had admired it for as long as she could remember. She had even tried to copy it, but never succeeded. And when she was honest with herself, she understood that Margot’s style was nothing like her own. Elena was also aware that she herself had never before been invited to the sort of weekend where such a skill mattered.
Elena was partnered with Allenby, of course. When it was her turn, she muffed the shot and saw him glance at her. She returned a reluctant smile of apology.
He came up beside her. “Watch the ball for a while,” he instructed very quietly. “And concentrate. Griselda is watching you and wondering if you’ve ever played before.”
“She didn’t ask me,” Elena replied, a trifle defensively. “I expect she asked Margot, and assumed that, if she had, then I had, too. Actually, we are not that much alike.”
His smile was unreadable. It could have been rueful sympathy, but there was too much humor in it for her to be certain.
Elena liked James Allenby. In fact, she liked him very much. And in a certain way, she knew he liked her. After the tragedy in Washington, and the way she had dealt with it, she knew that he respected her genuinely. She had seen it in his face, in his eyes, and in the gentleness of his touch. But then, she was quite sure that he would have respected anyone in those circumstances.
She stood and watched the game, thinking about the duplicity of being here both as Margot’s sister and as an agent of MI6. She understood that Grandfather Lucas had asked her to take on this job because she would be included quite naturally.
She was aware that Margot had been courted by Geoffrey Baden for a couple of months and that their relationship seemed to have come to a head quickly. Was there a reason? Geoffrey was ambitious. He did not make a display of it, but it was there in his manner, his self-assurance, his political sympathies. Ambition was good. Margot would be the perfect wife for him in his professional life in the management and investing of money. And should he have political ambitions, even better. She was more than beautiful: She was intelligent, charming, multilingual, and, being the daughter of an ambassador, accustomed to exercising discretion and always finding the right thing to say. It didn’t hurt that she had many social connections that could help him.
Did he know all that? Over the last few days, as they had gathered for lunch or dinner, Elena had heard him ask Margot about their father a number of times. Was that only because he was Margot’s father and Geoffrey saw this as good manners? Or was it more?
And what about their grandfather? Elena tried to push the thought away. It was the greatest compliment ever paid to her that she was in some ways like him. But had someone made a slip, grown careless, and now Geoffrey suspected that he was of more importance than simply being Margot’s grandfather? Or…perhaps he even knew it.
Elena again tried to push away the idea. How like her to look for a complicated and frightening answer when none existed. But she also thought how little progress the police had made in solving the murder of John Repton, despite Chief Constable Miller’s personal interest.
“Concentrate,” Allenby said very quietly, close to her ear. “Let people think that at least you are trying.”
“At croquet?” she asked with more than a touch of disbelief.
“This is supposed to be fun!” he reminded her. “A casual game on a sunny afternoon.”
She gave the ball a resounding whack, and it shot forward but stopped short of the hoop. “They’ll think it’s because I can’t play croquet,” she told him. “That shot is enough to make anyone worry.”
“I’ve noticed that no one is standing where they might expect your shot to go,” he said wryly. “But then, you haven’t struck anyone…yet.”
“I’m not finished…yet,” she replied, a little edge to her voice. “You should watch people’s faces. You can learn a lot from a moment of unguarded expression.”
“At the moment, everyone is watching you and ducking!”
She would like to have thought of a smart answer, but nothing came to mind. Half her thoughts were still on Geoffrey and his ambitions. Please God, they had no part in Repton’s murder! She walked casually over to where her ball was lying. She could see that she could not make the hoop in one shot. Unless she and Allenby sent the next three balls through on a single shot, they would lose. But they were not here to win the game. It was no more than a way to fill the afternoon. And if they watched carefully, they might also learn a great deal about those they were observing and the relationships between these people that lay beneath the surface.
The game continued. Elena made one or two good strokes and felt a little less out of place. Allenby played alongside her, and she was not sure whether she was more pleased that he did not draw more attention to her lack of skill or that he did not seem particularly concerned about how well she played.
When it was not her turn, she stood with her back to the playing area, enjoying the scenery, the way the sun was filtering through the trees. Allenby was standing in front of her, watching the players. Suddenly, without warning, he pushed her so sharply that she fell sideways and landed hard on the grass. It was in this fall that she felt a cracking pain just above her ankle.
She lay there, stunned, the pain increasing. She grabbed the throbbing area and winced in pain, quite certain that something was broken. A croquet ball lay nearby. Her heart was pounding, and her mouth felt dry. The pain caused nausea to rise in her stomach. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
Allenby was crouching beside her. His face was pale and his mouth a hard line. He grasped her hand and helped her to her feet, and then kept hold of her until he seemed satisfied that she had regained her balance. Only then did he let go of her hand.
“Thank you,” she said a little unsteadily, the pain growing in her leg.
Some of the others were approaching quickly with concern. It was Margot who arrived first. She looked both frightened and annoyed.
“Are you all right?” she demanded. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself. For heaven’s sake, it hardly touched you! Can’t you keep out of the limelight for even one minute?”
Elena was stung by her sister’s words, unsure how to respond. She saw the others rushing toward her.
“She hasn’t got any broken bones,” Allenby told Margot, as if she needed to be reassured. “Which is extremely fortunate. If she hadn’t fallen at that precise moment, she’d be far more seriously injured.” He looked at Margot steadily, meeting her eyes.
Margot seemed to be searching for the right words, and she clearly did not find them.
Suddenly, Elena found herself surrounded by everyone. It was Griselda who moved to the forefront.
“Elena, I am so sorry,” she announced, regret and concern evident in her face. “I don’t know what happened! I’m usually very good at this game, but I mis-hit the ball! When it struck you…God, I’m so glad you weren’t hurt. You weren’t, were you?” she pressed.
Elena looked at her ankle, where a formidable welt was visible, discolored and promising a nasty bruise. Plainly, the others could see it as well. Her mind was racing. “It was an accident,” she said to Griselda. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. James saw the ball coming and pushed me, so it was a glancing blow. You have no need to apologize.” She forced a smile to ease their minds.
Griselda continued to fuss over her until Elena finally said, “Really, Griselda, please don’t worry. I’m sure you had no intention of hitting me!” She said this with humor in her voice, but at the same time she saw the strange expression in Allenby’s eyes. Did he think it had been intentional? No, that was absurd. And even if it had been intentional, there was nothing she could do. Any accusations along that line would infuriate Margot, who seemed incapable of thinking of her new family as anything but perfect.
She realized that David Wyndham was standing at her elbow and looking at her with concern.
“It’s all right,” Margot said a bit sharply. “She’s got a little bruise, nothing more.”
Elena looked at Wyndham. “A most inelegant fall on my part,” she said with a nervous laugh, hoping to remove herself from the center of attention. “Perhaps I should sit this game out?” She smiled at him. “Thank you for your concern.”
It was decided that the game would continue with Elena playing. As she took her turn, she was self-conscious, aware that Margot was watching her closely, as if expecting her to be an embarrassment yet again.
With concentration and considerable effort, Elena did manage to play more accurately. But no matter how anyone played, it was impossible to miss how Griselda needed to be the best. Elena noted how Margot seemed suddenly guarded, but she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps Margot didn’t fear losing to Griselda as much as she feared letting Geoffrey down, because the fierce competition between brother and sister was evident to everyone.
Elena forced herself to observe Margot more and more, and she tried not to let it be obvious that, even though she was younger, she knew she was behaving like a protective older sister. If Margot realized this, it would be embarrassing for her. Margot might even assume again that Elena was jealous of her, which would be not only unpleasant, but humiliating for both of them.
It would be worse if anyone watching Elena realized that she was fearful for her sister: fearful that she was heading for some kind of trouble, even disaster, that Elena hoped to prevent.
They were at the farthest corner of the lawn when Elena realized that Geoffrey was watching her. She glanced across and was startled to meet his eyes. His look was candid, not even a smile or a shrug. She saw that he was watching her with every bit as much judgment as she was watching him. Was there any point in pretending, smiling, or being artificially polite or stupid? No. She stared back just as honestly. Then she looked away, disturbed, but in a way satisfied. The pretense was over. There was something going on inside this family, something secretive and perhaps even dangerous. Elena was certain of it.
They changed partners, and Elena was surprised, then pleased to find herself with David Wyndham. And with some gentle coaching from him, they actually won that game. She was a little shy of him at first, and very aware of her own clumsiness, but gradually, without much conversation, she grew comfortable around him.
Griselda was an excellent player, and she rarely took more than two shots to achieve the result that Elena needed four strikes to reach. At the same time, Griselda stood back to applaud or encourage the others. It came naturally to Elena to applaud her, even though she liked her less and less as the afternoon went on.
David Wyndham continued to be a good companion, and Elena was more than happy to follow his advice, quietly given—or perhaps suggested would be more accurate. She noticed that he looked at everyone now and then, as a good host would do. More than once she thought she saw in his face, perhaps only momentarily, a shadow of anxiety, of having seen something he recognized against his will. Then it was gone. Had she seen this, or had she only imagined it?
Griselda called out that it was time to break for tea and that everyone should put down their mallets and meet in the garden room.
When the group congregated, they were asked if they preferred tea or homemade lemonade. Elena chose lemonade, as did Allenby.
She was standing alone when Margot approached her. Her face was pale, despite her time in the sun, and her eyes were hard, almost black. She spoke in an angry voice.
“I asked Griselda to invite you here with—what is his name, Allenby? I was delighted when you accepted. Now I wish you hadn’t. You are behaving like a complete bitch. I’m sorry you’ve had no luck in finding someone for yourself, and clearly Allenby is not going to be more than a friend, or less, an acquaintance. Do you know why he even came here? It’s a family celebration, and he is not our family, nor is he ever likely to be. He’s cold, and about as much fun as a walk in the February rain!”
“If you don’t like him, I’m sorry,” Elena retorted, stung by the truth of Margot’s noticing that she and Allenby were not lovers, nor were likely to be. Not that she wished it, or had given it serious thought, but the words were meant to sting, and they did.
“I know he might be all you could rustle up right now.” Margot looked for a moment as if she might have regretted lashing out so hard and so accurately. “But don’t take it out on me! And why do you keep staring at Geoffrey? Are you truly that jealous?”
Elena ached to respond with something of the truth, but she must not. One thing would lead to another. Margot had no idea what Elena was doing here professionally. But Margot was not stupid, nor was she unable to add two and two to begin to guess the truth, however unlikely. Elena could not afford that. Not so much for herself, but for Lucas and, far more, for Allenby. Also, the more Margot knew, the more danger she might face. So, while she understood how Margot could turn on Allenby without realizing any of the damage she was doing, there was nothing Elena could do to change it. Perhaps later, if this marriage failed to happen, Margot would weep with regret for the rest of her life and blame Elena. And, in a sense, Elena could be to blame, because she had foreseen the disaster in the making.
“I’m not taking it out on you,” Elena said firmly, reaching for words that would sound natural to Margot, not like playacting. “And if I’m watching Geoffrey, it’s because he’s about to marry my sister. I want to know something about him. Just know him, that’s all.”
“Thank you, but I make my own decisions,” Margot said icily. “I can see why you think I might need a second opinion, someone else to tell me whether I have a good man or a bad one.”
“I made one mistake,” Elena spat back. “And I paid for it. For heaven’s sake, can’t you let it go? Do you have to remind me every time?”
“I would let it go,” Margot replied, “if you hadn’t come here to inspect the man I chose, the man I love and intend to marry. I don’t need your approval!”
Elena felt the sting of those words and chose to stand up to them. “I’m sorry you don’t care what I think. Do you intend to invite Mother and Father to your wedding? They might be away just now, but did you think of waiting until their return before you announced the news?”
“If there is anyone I won’t ask to my wedding, it will be you!” Margot cried. “I’d be afraid you wouldn’t stop cross-questioning my new family, as if they weren’t good enough to belong to ours. David Wyndham is one of the most respected men in society. And not for his money or influence, but for his wisdom and fairness. Ask Father; he approves.”
“Oh, you never said they’d met.”
“They haven’t yet.” Margot’s eyebrows rose in sarcasm. “Perhaps you should report on Allenby to me? Except that there is nothing to report, and I am not stopping my life to wait until there is. That could be a very long time.”
Again, Elena felt the sting, and she could see the recognition of it in Margot’s face.
“You should just mind your own business!” Margot said sharply. “What is your business, anyway? Photography?” Her eyebrows rose with judgment. “Really? For the rest of your life? Is that what you want to do with the brains you’re supposed to have and all your expensive education? Or until you find someone you want to marry and who wants to marry you?” Suddenly her eyes were gentler. She drew in a deep breath. “Elena, face it! Half a generation of men is gone, either dead or so wounded that they might as well be dead. If you’re waiting to meet the right man, you might wait forever. You have to make your life; it won’t do it for itself. You are too idealistic. It’s hopeless. I’m not going to be putting my life on hold to help you. And anyway, you’d never fit into my new world.”
“You are quite right,” Elena said, her face pinched and her jaw clenched. “And I don’t want to. I would have to cut off too many parts of myself to fit in!” And with that, she turned and stormed out, trying very hard to keep her gait steady despite the throbbing in her leg.
Margot did not follow her.
It was late in the afternoon, and the hot sun pushed through the sheltering branches above the croquet lawn, which was now set up for a picnic. A maid brought out jugs of lemonade. She was followed by a footman carrying a tray of shining clean glasses. As everyone was being served, Griselda brought a glass to Elena, as well as one for herself.
“I hope the pain has subsided,” she said, sympathy and regret still in her face. “And that you are not feeling this is all too stressful.” She offered a small smile.
“You are very kind.” Elena accepted the glass and sipped slowly. The lemonade was cool and delicious. “I’ve learned today that croquet is not my sport.” She, too, smiled, and very sweetly.
“From what Margot has told us, it sounds as if you had all sorts of wonderful experiences that we can only envy.” Griselda shrugged very slightly, elegantly. “I speak a little French. Obligatory in the liberal education, but you have actually lived in Paris. Is it as beautiful when you live there as it is when you just visit?” She waited, as if truly hoping for an answer.
Elena smiled with genuine pleasure as she recalled her time there. “Yes, it is. There are the famous places that everyone sees, but there are also secret corners that are exquisite, filled with the history of people who were brave, eccentric, passionate about the culture they loved and the ideas they hated. There are tiny gardens so beautiful they almost make you weep.” She stopped, thinking her response more serious than a polite inquiry needed.
“Go on!” Griselda urged. “You loved it, didn’t you? It shows in your face. I expect you have many friends there?”
“Yes, I do.” Elena felt the pleasure of those years move slowly through her memory, robbed of all the sharp edges, leaving only the beauty behind.
“Your father was the ambassador? I think that’s what Margot said, but I didn’t like to push.” She gave a slight shrug, again elegant and graceful. It was not any kind of denial. “You must have met some fascinating people.”
“Yes, but I was quite young, and I didn’t appreciate it then.” Elena wasn’t sure what to say and was even less sure about what Griselda was hoping to learn.
“But you do now? Appreciate it, that is? It would have to make up some of your best memories. I must ask Margot more persistently. She is too modest.” It was not said with criticism, but rather with patient affection. “Your father must be a most interesting man. Margot says you lived not only in Paris, but I believe also in Madrid. What on earth is a skill in hitting a croquet ball through a hoop when compared with an experience like that? And Margot says you lived in Berlin, too! Have you been back recently? Is it as vibrant as we hear? As full of hope?”
That was clearly a question Griselda wished answered.
Elena would have liked to deny it, but Margot had unintentionally made that impossible. “Yes,” she said, reminding herself that she must have a believable answer, one that Margot would not contradict. “I had a meeting at a magazine office about a photo shoot.”
“How very interesting,” Griselda said sincerely. “How did it impress you? One hears all sorts of stories. Do you know Unity Mitford? Of course you know of her. She and several of her sisters go there often. In fact, they know the Führer personally.” She hesitated only a couple of seconds. “Or perhaps your father has met him?”
“I don’t think so.” Elena was struggling for an answer that was more or less true, or at least one that Margot would verify. “But on this last visit, I did find it much changed,” she explained. “There was a sense of hope and purpose, rebuilding.” She warned herself to be careful, to sound sincere, but not as if she were measuring her words, thinking before she answered. “There was an optimism in the air.” She looked at Griselda’s face, into her eyes and the keen interest in them.
“A new birth?” Griselda asked with suddenly brighter eyes.
Elena answered instantly. “Exactly.” She was tempted to say more, to question Griselda herself, but even one slip, a tone of voice too eager, too carefully judged, and she might betray herself.
Griselda grinned with satisfaction. “I’m so happy to hear you say that. Not everyone sees it. Old grudges die hard, for all our words about forgiveness, but I think we must beat the past by pursuing a hope for the future.” She stopped, looking directly at Elena’s face, into her eyes, as if searching.
It was in Elena’s mind to say that it is easy to forget if you haven’t lost anyone you love, and easy to forgive if nothing still wounded the center of your life. “A new generation is in charge now,” she said instead with her jaw clenched, trying to keep the anger out of her voice, her face, even her eyes. “They are hearing about those events rather than living them.”
“Your own family lost someone.” Griselda met her gaze. “Surely you don’t want there ever to be another war like the last one…not ever.” Her face was dark with her own emotion now, as if she could not hide the passion of it. “You lost your brother.”
“Yes, I did,” Elena said, her voice low.
Griselda’s expression softened. “Your mother must have suffered terribly. Margot mentioned it more than once. They’re very close, Margot and your mother. That is what she says, and she speaks of her with great affection. I gather you’re very close to your grandfather.”
It sounded like such a harmless remark. Surely it was intended as such? It was not unusual for people to grow up close to their grandparents as well as their parents. Elena warned herself not to betray either Lucas or herself by mentioning too much of what they shared. She smiled. “Yes, my grandfather and I have had wonderful conversations. He has always listened to me. Although, when I was younger, I was probably talking nonsense at least half of the time. I dare say, for him it was an escape from reality.”
“He wasn’t a soldier, then?” Griselda allowed her face to show real curiosity.
Did she know? Was it possible? Even Lucas’s son had not known his true role, at least not until the episode in Washington, which had split everything wide open. She had to answer Griselda without any visible hesitation. What had Margot said? That he was a civil servant? Like a postman, or a tax collector. That sounded so pedestrian; anyone could say it. “He never wanted to talk about it.” That, at least, was quite honest. “My brother was a soldier, of course practically everyone that age was.” She looked into Griselda’s eyes. “You know how many we lost of that generation. I don’t know what Grandfather Lucas did, but I think it might have been something to do with logistics.”
“You never asked him? And yet you were so close.” Griselda raised her eyebrows, curiosity in her voice.
“I suppose I did, and I have no idea what he said. We didn’t worry about him the way we did about my brother, Mike. And Paul, of course.”
“Yes, of course. Clumsy of me to have asked,” Griselda said with what sounded like contrition. “But now that Margot is about to become a member of our family, we are naturally keen to know hers. Thank you for being so patient with my interest.”
Elena smiled with what she hoped was charm. “No doubt you will all meet up, and quite soon. And everyone in my family will be as keen to learn about you as you are to learn about us. I will start by telling them how patient you were with my complete inability to play a straight shot at croquet. They will all nod and sympathize with you because they know that I am hopeless at any sport with a ball involved.”
Griselda smiled back graciously and let the subject drop.
Elena went upstairs to her room. The day had been hot, with bursts of activity, then the waiting and watching others and the accident. She went straight to the washbasin to run warm water for her face and arms, but also to compose herself. She wanted to rest a little before dinner and to lie down and relieve her sore leg. She was anxious to ask Allenby if he had any new information. And she needed time alone with him to tell him of this probing conversation with Griselda.
As she dried her face, an ugly thought entered her mind. Margot had excellent connections, which could be of use to those with pro-Nazi sentiments. Did that include Geoffrey Baden and his family? She refused to consider how far those connections might go or how deep the relationships ran. Quite a few names had been dropped already, but no one who was close to Elena’s family. Chief among those names were the Prince of Wales himself and the increasingly prominent Wallis Simpson. They made no attempt to hide where their sympathies rested. They admired the resurgent Germany. But more than anything else, they wanted to avoid the crippling losses of the last war, which England could not survive again. That was only too easy to understand.
Since their early morning meeting, Elena had not had a chance to see Allenby alone without it looking too obvious. She did not want to draw any more attention to their relationship, especially from Margot. It would not do well under intense scrutiny.
She had already decided what to wear this evening, a pale blue-gray chiffon gown with a three-quarter-length skirt. It would not do for her bruise to be visible, but it couldn’t be helped. A full-length gown was not called for.
Should she wash her hair? It would be a good idea. She had brought her own shampoo with her.
She went over to her suitcase, which sat beside the wardrobe, picked it up, and put it on the bed. She opened it and looked at the few things she had left inside. The items were jumbled up, not messy or tangled, but there was something different. She looked more closely. Several things were not as she had left them. For one thing, she always wrapped her shampoo in a bag, in case it leaked into the suitcase. But the bottle was no longer covered. Had it been the maid? Had she inspected Elena’s effects? If so, why? And how had she gotten into the room? She probably had a master key to all the guest rooms.
Elena sought out the housekeeper to ask her. She was careful to pose the question so there was no suggestion of accusation. “I’ve misplaced something,” she said, “and I wonder if someone might have moved it while in my room.”
“No one can get into your room, Miss Standish,” the woman assured her. “We trust all our staff in Wyndham Hall, but you are the only one with the key. That is, apart from my master key, which has not left my possession. Would you like me to help you find it? Or perhaps you forgot to pack it.”
Elena was embarrassed, but also a little frightened. Someone had definitely been in her room searching it, but for what she did not know. Nothing seemed to be missing. And there was nothing that could in any way be incriminating or expose her as anyone other than who she claimed to be. “I’m sure you’re right.” She faked a smile. “I must have forgotten to pack it.”
She returned to her room, apprehension all around her.
So, who was it? And what did they want? Or was the housekeeper right, and she was losing her nerve and letting her imagination play tricks on her? It would make her look foolish, a little fanatical. Some of the Wyndham household already thought her a trifle light minded, prone to dramatize, to draw attention to herself. Don’t give them this!