Margot left the breakfast table. The discussion of the news and the arrest of Robert Hastings had left her filled with confusion and unhappiness. She had never met him, but she knew that her father had liked him well enough. Her grandparents had known him for years and were quite close to him and his late wife. It seemed that regardless of what the truth might be, Hastings was either guilty, innocent, or somewhere between. If he had in fact made a clumsy gesture or a vulgar suggestion to a young man, it was a tragedy for him and an embarrassment for the political party.
Geoffrey followed her and caught her by the arm, gently.
She swung around to face him, desperately wanting him to have some answer that would make the truth less bitter. She searched his face and saw the anxiety there, and then the sudden softness in his eyes.
“There’s nothing we can do about it,” he said quietly, as if he could hear what she was thinking. “I’m afraid his political career is over.”
“But what if he’s innocent?” she demanded. “Anybody could say that about any man! If there was nobody else there, and no proof that it had ever happened before, why believe this now? Maybe it’s a misunderstanding? Or worse, an attempted blackmail? If Hastings is just thrown out based on nothing more than this young man’s word, then no one is safe. Perhaps he hasn’t thought of it, but who would ever employ that young man again? You wouldn’t, would you?”
Geoffrey gave a brief, twisted smile. “No. Not yet, anyway, because I shall soon have a beautiful wife.”
Margot pushed aside his comment. “Why don’t they wait to see what’s really happened before they put Hastings in the headlines and destroy his life?”
“Oh, Margot, darling! Because they’re out to sell newspapers. And if they have to withdraw the accusations, it’ll come much later, when the damage is done. Then the papers can be outraged at the injustice of it, demand that the young man be punished, and everyone can quarrel with righteous indignation over the whole sordid issue.”
“But that won’t give Hastings his job back,” she protested. “Or his reputation.”
“No,” he agreed. “His best chance is that some other news overtakes this story as soon as possible. This kind of accusation is very difficult to prove and to disprove. People tend to believe whatever they want to. They see it as a relief from their own troubles.”
She searched his face but found no pretense at all. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I find it all terrible. My father knows him, and my grandparents are quite close to him.”
“Do you think your grandfather has enough influence to help?” he asked. “Or that he would wish to? Forgive me for asking, but does he know anyone who could help sort out a mess like this?”
Margot looked at the expectation in his eyes. “I don’t know,” she admitted, shrugging slightly. “But he has a very wide circle of people who seem to respect him.”
“Sorry to press,” he went on, “but this is terribly serious. Not just for Hastings, but for everybody. I don’t agree with Hastings. I think he’s a warmonger. But, as you say, if this could happen to him, it could happen to anybody. So, if your grandfather could help, then please God, he will! Darling, would you ask him? If he really could—” He stopped, as if he had made his point. He searched her face.
“Of course, but I don’t…” This sounded absurd now. “I don’t know what influence he has, if any at all.”
“What was he during the war? Army, navy, air force, or involved in espionage, perhaps?”
“I don’t know. Really, he never spoke of it.”
“Are you sure you didn’t make an imaginary hero of him? I’m sorry! But it matters now.”
Margot felt crushed. Defensive. Her own father had thought little of Lucas in the past, and he had not hidden it. But recently his attitude had changed. Actually, the change had occurred after Elena’s trip to Berlin. “I don’t know,” she said again, pained.
“Can you find out?” Geoffrey pleaded.
“I’ll try,” she promised, without any idea of how she would do that.
The smile at last returned to his face. “Today is a holiday, so let’s all of us take the horses and ride up into the hills. One of the servants will follow with lunch and join us at a favorite spot. We can’t help Hastings right now. About the best we can do is gather our strength for the battle and be ready when it’s time.”
“But do you think Hastings is ruined?”
“Yes. The Conservatives will be mad as hell that their chap is in deep disgrace. They wouldn’t think it nearly as irresponsible if Hastings had pressured a woman.”
“You mean we are fair game?” she demanded, her emotions suddenly finding an outlet in anger.
“No, sweetheart, I don’t,” he said patiently. “There is a considerable difference between making unwanted advances to an adult woman who is perfectly capable of standing up for herself and to a young man who was employed by him, dependent on him for a job, let alone a career, and had no desire for physical contact from a man old enough to be his father.”
“I’m sorry. Of course I can see that. It’s all just so—” she stammered, feeling both flustered and frustrated.
Baden put his arm around her. “I know. We are shaken up when we find that people we admire have broken our trust. There will have to be a by-election, of course, but this is a safe Conservative constituency. Algie—that is, Algernon Miller—will fit in with no trouble. We’ll get a few people to speak up for him. He’s a pretty good, steady chap. And David will be behind him, of course.”
“Do you like him? Miller, I mean,” Margot suddenly wondered.
Baden raised his brows in surprise. “Not particularly. But he’s solid enough. No panic, no unsuitable alliances, although it would be a good idea if he got married. But the most important thing is no warmongering. He holds tremendous admiration for Griselda. He listens to what she says.” He smiled at Margot and placed a hand on the small of her back gently. “Let’s change the subject, shall we? I think this would be a good chance to see some of the countryside and perhaps persuade your sister to come along. She could borrow a pair of trousers suitable for horse riding. Griselda will find something for her. Could be the turning of a page.”
“I will invite her.” She nodded with a sudden lift of spirits. “I’ll go right now.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then left to go upstairs and find Elena. She knocked on her bedroom door and was answered immediately. Elena looked startled to see her and quickly tried to hide her surprise before inviting Margot inside.
“You were expecting someone else?” Margot questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Perhaps Allenby?” Then immediately she regretted it. She was supposed to be here in peace, yet she had played straight into a challenge.
Elena took a deep breath. “I’m surprised it’s you, and pleased.”
Margot looked beyond her to the suitcase, the lid open.
Elena followed her gaze. “I was looking at the photographs. There are two of you that are very good. I thought I’d give them to Mother and Father. And one to you, if you like?” She swallowed nervously. “You could use one of them to announce your engagement. That is, if it pleases you.”
Margot smiled. “Let me see.”
Elena went to the suitcase and took out one of the large envelopes. She opened it, pulled out two photographs, and passed them across to her sister.
Margot was stunned. These were good. In fact, very good. She always looked elegant, unusual with her long black hair wound up on her head like a classical ballerina. Still, these photographs showed her quite differently from the usual party pictures of groups of celebrities, or would-be celebrities, posing for a photograph, all very camera conscious, striking the sort of poses that found their way into fashion magazines. But here, Elena had captured her in such a unique pose. One of the photos was a profile, with Margot half turning away, her arm outstretched, her hand replacing an empty glass on a footman’s tray. Her arms were bare but for a gold bracelet, and they were slender, the limbs of a dancer. Her features came across as classic, even more so than their mother’s, and there was a graceful line running down to the low edge of her dress.
She looked up at Elena in awe. “This one, it’s beautiful,” she said.
“It’s just a matter of light and angle,” Elena replied. “But you do look like that at times. I think it’s very much how I see you.”
To Margot’s surprise, Elena looked as if it really mattered to her that Margot should like it.
“I’d like to have a copy,” Margot said. “Just to remind me that I can look like that for real and not just in my dreams. Please?”
“Of course. I still have the negative, if you want to give a copy to Mother or to Geoffrey.”
Margot nodded eagerly. “I would.” She looked at the other photo. It, too, was very different. This one was almost full face, smiling, warmed by the lamplight beside her. She was staring at the camera, the light on one side of her face. It was dramatic, but in a different way. She looked lovely, but challenging, aware of the viewer, daring them to judge. “Is this really how you see me?” she asked, unable to disguise the surprise in her voice.
“One of the ways,” Elena replied easily. “You are many people, we all are. But yes, that’s one of them.”
“Has anyone ever taken as good a picture of you?” Margot asked.
“I’m almost always on the other side of the camera. And someone would have to take quite a few pictures to get a good one of me.”
Elena quietly slipped out the photographs of the prince and Mrs. Simpson and handed them to her sister.
Margot studied them, nodding with appreciation. She pointed to the kinder images. “Lovely,” she said with approval. When she saw the others, with harder edges and more revealing expressions, she placed them facedown on the bed. “For your eyes only,” she said, more as a suggestion than a command.
Elena opened her mouth to say something, then looked as if she had changed her mind. “You can keep the ones of you. I’ll print another set to keep for myself.”
“For what?”
“To remember how chic you are, how individual and beautiful.” She smiled. “In the right light.”
As unusual as it was for her, Margot was stuck for words. She ended up simply saying, “Thank you,” and changing the subject to the need to find suitable trousers for riding.
They set out a little after eleven. It was a bright, windy day of alternating sun and shadows, but unlikely to rain. Elena was wearing a mixture of borrowed clothes, whereas Margot, who had been forewarned, was dressed in the proper attire.
Prudence and Landon Rees had chosen to drop in on close friends a few miles away, so they had excused themselves.
The stables had no trouble providing six mounts. It was a country establishment, and there were horses to spare. Griselda, quite clearly at home with animals, chose a medium-sized mare for Elena with the promise that she was steady and well behaved. Margot felt that sounded patronizing, but far better a little wounded pride than a bad fall, even a broken bone. There were spare riding boots lined up on a shelf in the stable. Elena and Allenby had no trouble finding some that fit.
David and Griselda, Geoffrey and Margot, and Allenby and Elena rode out of the stables and entered the woods. Margot noted that Allenby was dressed in casual corduroy trousers, a tattersall shirt, and a tweed jacket, all fine for riding.
They set out quietly. There was no sound but the horses’ hooves on the earth, the occasional chirping of birds, and the rustle of leaves now and then as a brief gust of wind stirred the branches, throwing shadows of dancing movement onto the ground.
Margot rode beside Geoffrey. It was one of the most beautiful days she had ever seen. The sky was wide and dotted with clouds. The breeze was warm. It was a time when silence filled the air until, after a while, it was not really silence at all. She heard how the wind stirred the trees and carried the odd drifting leaves to the ground. Branches rubbed together. Up above, there was the sound of the birds’ wings beating. Occasionally, a horse blew out air, and it was a comfortable sound. And, of course, when they crossed a stony patch, the sound of hooves rattled the quiet.
Margot glanced at Elena and saw her smiling. It seemed to be for no particular reason, just an increasing pleasure about their surroundings. Margot saw her sister glance at Allenby, who was just ahead of her. He looked utterly relaxed. She also saw how, once or twice, they caught each other’s eye and exchanged a smile.
When the group reached a spot high on the gentle hillside, with a view that stretched, at least in one direction, for miles across the rolling land, they stopped and dismounted.
Margot guessed that the others had come here several times that summer because the picnic spot was shielded from the prevailing wind, and a couple of fallen logs gave them plenty of seats. There was also a flat place to spread out the lunch, which had already been done. Apparently, there was a more direct route than the one they had followed, and one of the servants had taken it, arrived early, and laid out their meal.
It was described as a picnic, but most people would have considered it a high feast. There was thin-sliced cold roast beef, chicken, cold bacon-and-egg pie, and hard-boiled eggs. The spread included salads of fresh lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, cooked cold new potatoes with parsley and chives, and a variety of fresh fruit, even grapes and apricots. It was a little early in the season for English apples. And, of course, there was a choice of light wines and water newly bottled and chilled, now sitting in the shade of a large rock.
Margot was aware of a sense of luxury she could never remember having felt before. It was all so very casual, and yet no one could pretend that it was less than perfect.
She looked around at everyone seated on the logs, holding plates of whatever food they had chosen. She saw how Griselda occasionally glanced at the others to confirm that they were enjoying themselves. David sat a little distance from her, also now and then glancing around and smiling. He was automatically taken as the head of the table. Margot was sitting with Geoffrey, and Elena with Allenby.
The horses were tethered to a rail, quietly cropping the grass. Other than the faraway sound of sheep, there was utter silence. Margot had never felt so completely at peace.
She smiled across at Elena, who met her eyes for a moment and then smiled back, as if to fill the silence in the sunlight’s healing balm.
After the meal, when all was packed up again and the leftovers, of which there were surprisingly few, were replaced in the hamper, everyone seemed easily to fall into pairs to take a walk, to stretch, to be comfortable and digest an excellent meal. Margot was pleased to see Allenby take Elena’s hand to help her to her feet. She watched as they walked a little way east around the hill. They moved together so naturally that Margot thought possibly they were closer than she had realized.
Geoffrey and Griselda went together in the opposite direction, leaving Margot alone with David Wyndham.
“Do you feel up to climbing a little higher?” he challenged. “It’s an easy incline, and the view from the top is even better, if you can imagine such a thing.”
“I can’t,” she said with a smile. “But I’ll gladly look!” She stood up easily. She did not need the hand he offered her, but it seemed churlish to refuse. She took it, and only then realized that the path went upward at quite a gentle incline, not so well worn, but still a clear way.
They walked easily, side by side.
“Did you see Elena’s photographs?” he asked after a few minutes. “From the party.”
“Yes,” she answered before she considered the wisdom of it. It might have been simpler if she had denied it. She glanced at him, saw his smile, and realized that she did not want to be evasive. “I strongly suggested that she not sell the…” She was looking for the right words.
“Quite,” he agreed, as if she had spoken. “As for the other two, was that the most excellent good luck, or is she frequently so perceptive?” Before she could respond, he said, “I think it is more than that. In her most outwardly casual way, I believe your sister has a genius. A rather uncomfortable one.”
“Are you going to tell me to watch over her?” she asked. Then she wished she had not been so open with him. He was going to be her brother-in-law, but she had taken a huge step toward him, perhaps too soon. “I mean—” she began again.
“No,” he cut her off. “You can’t possibly follow her around, and I imagine these haunting insights can come quite regularly. And you cannot deny her particular genius. That is who she is.”
“I did warn her.” Why was she being so defensive? “I’m sorry, but—”
“My dear,” he interrupted again, quite gently but with surprising authority. “You cannot do more than that. She will do what she wishes, perhaps even needs to do, and all you will achieve is to widen the differences between you. Just as you would do if she tried to tell you not to be in love with Geoffrey.”
“That’s hardly the same thing!” Margot protested. “Falling in love and then marrying is always an adventure, a risk, but the rewards are immense. You can’t go through life refusing to do anything that involves your deepest emotions. I…” She looked at him more clearly, even standing still for a moment to face him. “You aren’t suggesting I don’t marry Geoffrey, are you?” Why had she said that? She would have taken it back the second she heard herself, but perhaps she needed to know anyway, here on the hillside, when they were alone. Either of them could say exactly what they meant, and it might never go any further.
“No,” he said without hesitation. “I’m very pleased at the thought of having you in the family. I cannot see around corners any more than any of us can. But remember that I am always here if you…” Now it was he who appeared to be at a loss, and perhaps fearful of saying more than he wanted to.
They walked a hundred yards or more, slightly uphill, until a magnificent view opened up in front of them, as far as the eye could see. It made almost a full circle. She drew in her breath in wonder, then turned to David.
He caught her glance and smiled, then spoke at last. “I come up here sometimes when I need to get a bit of perspective on things. It eases a lot of…” He hesitated. “Sounds a bit pompous said aloud, but it makes me realize how important all of this is, and that it’s my trust to keep this, as all the generations past have done. Our personal griefs are trivial in the face of generations of care.”
She was watching his expression, and she noticed the tension in his jaw and perhaps a moment of grief. She could not prevent herself from wondering what had caused him such pain. Was it Griselda and some of the people he had seen her with? He had once or twice looked as if they would not have been his choice. Margot had no right to ask.
She thought about what had happened when Elena had gone with their parents to visit their grandparents in Washington. She sensed that David, like herself, wanted to fit into his family.
“Elena is not like anybody I know,” she said truthfully. “She’s a sort of mixture of crazy misjudgments and brilliance, and she sees what no one else does. She’s stupid and very clever, brave and generous. Please give her time before…” She saw his expression and stopped. “You know that already. Am I making a fool of myself? It’s only because—”
“Because you care,” he finished for her. “I understand. Griselda is my wife, and I certainly don’t care for many of her friends. Quite often it is due to differences of beliefs rather than an outward personality, although I tend to find that those who believe Adolf Hitler to be good for Europe in the long run also have political beliefs that profoundly disagree with my own. Sometimes, people who are significantly pleasant, even charming, have deeper beliefs that are shocking if carried to their logical conclusions. Social conventions shouldn’t be the guideline to one’s beliefs regarding right and wrong, but I fear they too often are.”
He held Margot’s gaze. “We all need our own feelings, my dear. Don’t alter yours to please Geoffrey, or Griselda, or anyone else. That might be difficult, but there is no lasting happiness in changing your inner self to be someone else or to avoid unpleasantness. I’m not preaching to you, because I’m afraid I have done it myself, for domestic peace. The further you go along that road, the further back again you have to go to find yourself. Keep your friendship with your sister. She might be difficult, and make mistakes occasionally, but she has a very good sense of honesty and compassion. Let her make a fool of herself over Allenby if she needs to. I have a feeling she is quite as strong as he is. But if she is to lose, it is still worse never to have played. Just be there for her,” he told her sincerely. “As she would be for you.”
“I will,” she answered.
Then they turned and walked quietly back down the hill in gentle, companionable silence.