Pegasus: A Novel Part 9

"They're taking the von Bingen schloss!" the boy shouted across the stable, as Alex looked at him in confusion.

"Who is? Taking it where?" What he had said made no sense.

"The soldiers. A colonel, I think, or a general. They came in a big car and they're moving in." What he said chilled Alex to the bone, and he felt a rage rise up in him, like a tidal wave of bile.

"What do you mean?" Alex's eyes were blazing.

"There are a lot of soldiers there with boxes, and big cars, and officers. The schloss is open, and someone told me that they are taking it over. It will be headquarters for the area now, and the officers will live there." Alex wanted to kill someone as he strode out of the stables without comment and marched across the courtyard to his own home. Marianne was out visiting a woman who had just given birth on one of the farms, to bring her some food for her other children, and see how she was. The thought of them taking over Nick's home, two weeks after Paul died, was more than Alex could bear. He put on his most dignified suit, combed his hair, got in his Mercedes, and drove over to Nick's schloss. And just as the boy had said, there were cars outside, trucks in the courtyard, boxes everywhere, two dozen soldiers, and a colonel in charge, shouting directions. Alex took a breath and looked calmer than he was, as he walked over to where the colonel was standing. Alex looked at him with a pleasant smile.

"Welcome to the neighborhood," Alex said as he extended a hand to the colonel, and noticed with a pain in his stomach that there were two flags with swastikas flying from the colonel's car, and two lieutenants were standing at his side.

"And you are?" The colonel eyed him coldly, seemingly unimpressed.

"Alex von Hemmerle. Schloss Altenberg. Five kilometers from here." He pointed vaguely in the right direction. "I see that you're visiting Count von Bingen," Alex said, trying to keep as much sarcasm as possible out of his tone, and barely succeeding.

"Count von Bingen is dead," the colonel said bluntly. "Two weeks ago. We are taking over the schloss for the army."

"I was referring to his son, Count Nicolas von Bingen," Alex said innocently. "I a.s.sume he'll be inheriting the t.i.tle and the estate from his father."

"I regret to inform you," the colonel said with an icy stare, "the late count was married to a Jewish woman, and *Count Nicolas,' his son, fled a year ago as a Jew, as I'm sure you know. Jews can no longer inherit or own land in Germany. This schloss now belongs to the Third Reich. I have claimed it in the name of our Fuehrer, Adolf Hitler." His salute could have sliced an iceberg, and stopped just shy of his hat, and then his right arm shot out in the familiar salute that turned Alex's stomach. Alex did not return the salute, and as a civilian, he wasn't obliged to, although some zealots did.

"I see," Alex said with surprise. "I didn't know. They kept it very quiet." He feigned ignorance, and the colonel nodded.

"Understandably. I'm told you have very handsome stables," he said with a pointed look at Alex, "and some very fine horses." So he knew exactly who Alex was, and it was only a matter of time before he paid them a visit, and possibly took whatever he wanted. Including the schloss, if he chose to. The army had license to do whatever they wished.

"Thank you for the compliment. I hope you will pay me a visit now that you're so close by." Alex executed a formal bow, and clicked his heels in the style of German aristocrats, not soldiers. It was as respectful as the colonel's salute, and far more elegant, and reminded the colonel of just how n.o.ble Alex was, which was his intention.

"Thank you, Count. I will visit you soon," the colonel a.s.sured him, and then he disappeared through the front door of Nick's home, followed by a trail of officers and soldiers. Alex looked after him and wanted to burst into tears or scream. It was the most horrifying sight he had ever seen. And it would be the next piece of bad news he would have to share with Nick, to tell him that his elegant home, inhabited by six centuries of his ancestors, had been commandeered by the Third Reich, and was now being lived in by officers and soldiers. With any luck, when the Reich fell one day, if it did, it would be returned to Nick. But G.o.d only knew when that might be or what they would do to it in the meantime. Alex was shaking like a leaf as he drove home, parked his car, strode into his own schloss, and slammed the door. Marianne could hear him from the library, where she had returned to warm her hands by the fire, and she knew from the sound of the front door that something bad had happened. She hurried out of the library to see her father cross the landing. He had murder in his eyes.

"What's wrong, Papa?" she asked, frightened. He lowered his voice to answer her. He trusted no one now. There were people everywhere, longing to become puppets of the Reich, and spy on people they had known or worked for all their life.

"The army just took over Nick's house. They're moving in. I want you to go nowhere now. You do not leave this house without me. Do you understand?" he said to her harshly. "There are soldiers everywhere, and it will get worse. They could come here, and even move in with us. I don't want them anywhere near you. You do not leave this house!" he said again, and she could see that he was shaking with fear and rage. The fear was for her, and the rage against a government that had violated everything he held dear, including his best friend and his home.

"How can they just move in?" she said with a look of amazement, as they walked back into the library and her father closed the door behind them.

"I do not want you speaking to anyone. Make no comment. Say nothing. We can no longer know who to trust or who will betray us even in our own home." It was a reign of fear and larceny. The country had been taken over by boors, who were prepared to take anything they wanted. "I think the colonel is after our horses." And worse than that, Alex was terrified that one of them, or several of them, would be after her. She was eighteen years old and a beauty, soon to be nineteen, and he was afraid for her. He had a strong sense that these men would stop at nothing.

He realized now that there were several things he had to do. One of them was write to Nick, to tell him what had happened. And the other was to write to his old friend Lord Beaulieu in England. They had gone to school together thirty years before, and had remained close friends for many years. Nick knew him well too. Like the English, he p.r.o.nounced his name "Byew-lee," not as the French did. But Alex realized now that he needed his help. He could not keep Marianne in Germany for long.

The letter he wrote to Nick that afternoon was one of the hardest he'd ever had to write, other than the telegram about his father. And Alex also knew that he had to word it carefully, lest he arouse the suspicions of the censors. But a letter to America might not be of great interest, and rather than using Nick's full name as he normally did, he addressed it to Nick Bing, in the hope that an uneducated censor reading it wouldn't make the connection. And he would try to make it sound like a fortuitous event, rather than the disaster both he and Nick would consider it to be.

Because of the delicacy of it, it took him a long time to write the letter. He explained that he was sure that Nick would be pleased to know that the old schloss near his own had been put to good use. Due to the departure of its once-rightful owner, and a recent death, it had now been taken over by the Third Reich and the army, and officers and soldiers would be living in the house, and had already moved in. Alex said that it would finally add life to the area and the right spirit, and he was sure that Nick would be pleased to hear such good news. He could only imagine the horror on Nick's face when he read it, but there was nothing he could do. He thought he should know. He added only one cryptic line to cheer him. "All of that could change one day, and surely will, if the family returns, but for now it is very happy news." There was nothing happy about it.

And after Alex had shared other minor news with him, he began his letter to Charles Beaulieu, which was equally hard to write, and the routing of it was complicated too. He wrote it enclosed in another letter, to a mutual school friend of theirs in New York, and asked him to send the letter on to Charles. Alex was almost certain that he couldn't get a letter from Germany to England now that they were at war. It would be a great deal easier from the States, and Alex could only pray that the letter would arrive. He apologized to his old friend Beaulieu for asking such a large favor, but he had no one else he could ask. He took both letters to the post office that afternoon, and hoped that they would reach their destinations, particularly the one to Charles. And then he went home and sat by the fire with Marianne, and tried to rea.s.sure her. It had been a distressing day for them both, and one thing Alex was certain of now, it was only going to get worse. And he didn't tell her so, but he wanted his daughter out of Germany before it did. It was in Charles Beaulieu's hands.

Chapter 17.

Alex's letter to Nick arrived and he understood it perfectly although Alex had billed it as "good news," which they both knew it was not. Nick fully comprehended that the Third Reich had taken over his estate, and his father was dead, which he already knew from the telegram. And since Nick no longer existed civilly, only as a Jew with no right to own property in Germany, according to the Reich, the estate and the schloss were up for grabs, and now theirs. He no longer owned his own land or anything in Germany. He was not only displaced, but penniless as well, with no inheritance. All he had was his t.i.tle and his name. He was less upset than he had been when his father died, but he was shocked nonetheless. And he also understood Alex's cryptic reference that if the Reich fell, if they lost the war, his land would revert to him again. But who knew if that would happen, or when? He could no longer count on anything, except himself. And like Christianna and her family, the circus was Alex's life. He had been disinherited by Adolf Hitler. After six centuries of his family in the same place, he was now without a country or a home. In barely more than a year, he had lost everything, including his father. It was hard to imagine. All he had left of the past were his boys.

He told Christianna about it later that day, and she was shocked.

"Can they just do that? Take your house that way and move in?"

"Apparently they can," Nick said with a bitter, angry look. "I have virtually nothing, even in Germany now. I have nothing to go back to, and I never will. I never want to go back to Germany again." He looked as though he meant it, and she felt sorry for him.

"Maybe they'll lose the war." But it didn't look like it. Hitler was being aggressive with all the neighboring countries on his borders and across Europe, and gave the impression of wanting to swallow them whole.

The next day Christianna told her father and brothers about Nick's family home being seized by the n.a.z.is, and they felt sorry for him. And others in the circus grew increasingly worried about their relatives, especially those that were Jewish and were now in countries under Hitler's control. None of them could go home again either, and they were afraid for their loved ones.

At the beginning of February, Hitler ordered unrestricted submarine warfare against his enemies, while England blockaded Germany. And German U-boats were sinking s.h.i.+ps. He hadn't heard from Alex again.

Alex's letter to the friend in New York had found its way to Charles Beaulieu in Hertfords.h.i.+re within three weeks, in early February, and Charles's response via the same route took another month to get back to Alex, but his response was immediate and sincere. First, he said he was sorry to hear about Nick's father. He also shared Alex's concern with what was happening in Germany, and he suggested that Alex get Marianne to England as quickly as possible, if he could get her there, which they both knew would not be easy to do. Many German children had been sent to England just before the war, as well as Hungarians and Poles, mostly Jewish children, who had been gotten out by the British on the Kindertransport trains, but since war had been declared six months before, it was not easy to seek asylum in England, nor find a way to get her there. And Marianne was not a child. She was considered a woman at nineteen. So she would have to leave Germany as an adult, with all the ramifications and risks of any woman.

And both the British blockade and Germans sinking s.h.i.+ps made sailing across the channel extremely risky. But Alex thought keeping her in Germany with soldiers all around them was worse, and he wanted to take the chance, although his heart ached at the thought. He had to get Marianne into France, to cross the channel from there, or by a safer route if he could find one.

Charles and his wife Isabel were more than willing to have her-in fact, they said they'd be delighted-for the duration of the war if necessary. They had two sons, both in the RAF, and no daughters, and Charles said in his extremely kind letter to Alex that Isabel would be delighted with the company, since life in Hertfords.h.i.+re was very dull these days, and they rarely saw their boys. And he a.s.sured Alex that she would be safe with them, as safe as anyone was in England these days, but surely more than Germany. He said that many people were sending their children and families to the country, whenever possible, even to strangers who had signed up to take them in. And he and Isabel had been thinking of having children stay with them, on their very large estate. Charles was the seventh marquess of Haversham, and a member of the House of Lords, and he and Alex had been in the same cla.s.s at school.

Alex was greatly relieved to get his letter, and all he wanted now was to find a way to get Marianne safely to England, without alerting anyone in the Third Reich while he did. And since Germany and England were at war, he couldn't just book a ticket and send her. He had to find a discreet way to get her out. And after careful examination of the problem, he thought the best way to do so would be through Belgium, which was neutral. But he had no idea who to contact to set the wheels in motion. Alex had no connections in government or the army, and although there were some aristocrats in the Wehrmacht and the SS, he thought most of them a bunch of badly behaved riffraff. And he wasn't willing to take a chance on any of them, and surely not with his daughter. He had no underground connections either, nor wanted to use them for Marianne. He wanted to get her out of Germany legally, with proper papers. He was still thinking about it when the colonel came to pay him a visit to see his horses.

He went through the stables and stopped in amazement when he saw the four Lipizzaners that Alex still had, two mares and two stallions, whom he needed for his bloodlines. They were as fine as Pluto and Nina had been, though slightly older.

"Are they trained?" the colonel asked with a look of awe.

"Fully, to liberty commands," Alex said, hating to even show them to him, but he couldn't deny him. The colonel could do anything he wanted.

"May I see?" he asked, skeptical, and one of the young boys helped Alex bring the four horses into the main ring he used to train them. And wanting to impress him and show him how insignificant he was, Alex let all four horses loose in the ring and commanded them in the precise exercises of the Spanish Riding School that he had trained them for. The horses were exquisite, ending in a levade, followed by a croupade one by one in perfect symmetry. The colonel nearly had his mouth open when they finished. "You trained them yourself?" he asked in disbelief, and Alex nodded with amus.e.m.e.nt. He was tempted to tell him that aristocrats were far better at training horses than soldiers, but he said nothing.

"I usually send them to the Spanish Riding School in Vienna, but I kept these four for breeding." He didn't mention the two that had left the year before, with Nick.

"Do you ever sell them?" the colonel asked, with stars in his eyes. He could just imagine himself on one of the two stallions. But Alex had no intention of giving him any. He would have to take them, and Alex realized he might.

"No, I don't. I place them with the school in Vienna, I keep them for breeding. And I've given two away. They're not for sale."

The colonel turned to him with an angry look then, and he had mean little eyes. "You realize I could take them all if I wanted to, don't you? In the name of the Reich." Alex didn't answer for a long moment as he stared him down. The colonel didn't frighten him. Alex loathed him.

"You could," Alex responded slowly, "but I don't believe that an officer of the German army would want to demonstrate such execrable manners, particularly among gentlemen, unless I'm mistaken, of course, about the Fuehrer's officers being gentlemen." His eyes never left the colonel's as he said it, and the little officer backed down immediately. It was clear he desperately wanted one of the Lipizzaners, but he couldn't find a reasonable excuse to just confiscate them. He had no reason to, the army didn't need them, and he wasn't an officer of the cavalry, which was an honor guard he didn't belong to, and Alex knew it. He was a colonel in the regular army, the Wehrmacht, not even SS, the elite corps. But one of the Lipizzaners would have lent him status and dignity. Alex could see how badly he wanted them, and it gave him an idea. It was bold, and dangerous, but worth it if it worked.

"I only give them to people who are extremely important to me, as a tribute of respect and my admiration for them. Like the Fuehrer, for instance," Alex said with a serious expression as the colonel nodded. "By the way, would you like to ride one of the stallions? They're quite easy, particularly the big one." The smaller one was in fact better bred and had trained better, but the bigger one was showier, and he could see that the colonel liked him, and thought him a good match for his sense of self-importance. The colonel nodded immediately at the suggestion, and Alex helped him into the saddle he put on the big horse. The colonel looked like he was going to explode in ecstasy as he rode around the ring on the beautifully trained horse. Alex commanded the others to stand still. "He's a nice ride, isn't he?" Alex said casually as the colonel rode several times around the ring, and then came to stand next to Alex and looked down at him.

"You would give such a horse to the Fuehrer?" The colonel looked impressed, but it still wouldn't get one in his possession, and he could hardly steal it from the Fuehrer if Alex were to offer such an extraordinary gift. He would have to commandeer it or confiscate it, but he realized it would make him look like a horse thief to Alex, which he didn't like either. Aristocrats like Alex had made him uncomfortable all his life, and Alex could sense that too.

"I would," Alex confirmed, "or to someone I respected equally." He looked at the colonel sitting on the stallion. Their eyes met and held, and the colonel understood instantly that there was something Alex wanted from him. All he had to do was find out what it was, and if he could deliver it easily. He had a feeling Alex was about to tell him, and perhaps they could strike a deal. The colonel was uneducated but he wasn't stupid, and the two men understood each other without words. "Travel papers and safe pa.s.sage to Ostend in Belgium" was all Alex said, and the colonel looked at him intently. It was a port town, and the colonel could guess that it would only be a midpoint in a journey to somewhere else.

"For a Jew?" That he couldn't do, even for a Lipizzaner. He was no traitor, and he had strict orders about that, from the high command.

"Not at all. For a lady of high rank. Her papers are in order."

The colonel understood immediately. "Your daughter?" he asked in a low voice, and Alex was terrified to admit it and put her at greater risk, but he had no choice. He had to say it, if he was to get her out of Germany, and this might be the only way he could. Alex nodded, and the colonel took a long time to answer, sitting on the stallion he wanted so badly and could have confiscated, at the risk of looking like a boor to this n.o.bleman who seemed fearless and at ease. But he could well imagine how much his daughter meant to him. Enough to give away a priceless stallion in exchange for travel papers to Belgium, to get her out of Germany, and probably to England from there. If he wanted her in Belgium, it was likely he was sending her to England across the channel.

"It could be arranged," he said quietly. "When?"

"Whenever you like, as soon as possible." Alex had exposed his whole hand, and prayed he didn't lose, or her life and his own would be at stake. He had played a high-stakes game of poker with the colonel and hoped he hadn't been wrong to do it.

"I'll give it some thought," the colonel said, and dismounted smoothly. "I'll get back to you in a day or two." He strode out of the ring then, and the stables, without ever looking back, while Alex's heart pounded in his chest. He knew he had been crazy to say what he had to him, with Marianne as the p.a.w.n he was risking. It had been a very dangerous game, and it wasn't over yet. The colonel drove off with his driver minutes later. And Alex stood in the stables wondering what to do. There was only one choice. He had to play the hand to the end now, whatever happened. The die was cast, win or lose.

He put one of his hunters on a lead rein, and tightened the saddle on the big Lipizzaner. He told the boy helping him to put the other three in their stalls. And he mounted the big stallion and walked it out of the ring, leading the hunter, as the boy looked at him in surprise.

"Where are you going?"

"To deliver a gift," he said, and then trotted off on the familiar road to Nick's schloss. The hunter followed the stallion easily, and when Alex got to the schloss, he tied the hunter to a post that he and Nick had used since they were children, and dismounted. There were soldiers in the courtyard, and he saw the colonel's car with the flags, and walked up to a young sergeant. He executed a curt bow and handed the reins of the stallion to him.

"With my compliments to the colonel," Alex said formally. "Please remind the colonel that he forgot his horse Favory in my stables. I wanted to return him." The sergeant smiled at what he said. He knew the colonel had no horse such as this. He had never seen another one like it. He was a spectacular beast, and he seemed perfectly calm and at ease standing in the courtyard. "His name is Favory, of the original bloodline of Lipizzaners. Good evening, Sergeant." Alex bowed again, and walked back out of the courtyard, untied his hunter, and rode away. He had no idea if it would work, but it was worth a shot. He had gambled everything on the last play.

There was no word from the colonel that night or the next morning, and he said nothing to Marianne. He had risked his own child's life and possibly his own, in order to save her and get her to safety. And as he sat down to lunch with her, a corporal arrived in a Jeep. He said he had a letter for Count von Hemmerle, and one of the maids brought him to Alex. Alex took the envelope and opened it with shaking hands after he left. There was no note. There were only travel papers, to Ostend, Belgium, signed by the colonel, in Marianne's name. They were for the next day. The poker hand had worked. Favory had bought Marianne's freedom. Alex's eyes filled with tears as he read them.

"What is it, Papa? Is something wrong?" Marianne looked worried.

"No," he said quietly. He put the papers back in the envelope, slipped it into his jacket pocket, and had a civilized lunch with her. After they finished, he took her to the library with him and closed the door, and explained it to her.

"You may not like this, my darling, but you must do as I say. It is dangerous for you here, too dangerous. These people will do anything, and I don't want anyone to hurt you. You must leave Germany now. There are soldiers here, too close to us. They play by their own rules, and you're a beautiful young girl. I am sending you to my old friends the Beaulieus in England. They have agreed to take you, and the colonel has given you travel papers. I have them in my pocket. You must leave tomorrow." He told her all of it at once, and she burst into tears immediately and tried to argue with him, but he wouldn't let her. He wanted her out of Germany as soon as possible.

"Oh my G.o.d," she said, staring at him suddenly. "You gave him Favory, didn't you? They told me this morning that he was missing. But now you only have one stallion left to breed."

"I'd much rather have you safe in England. I will put you on a train to Belgium in the morning. The papers he gave you will get you to Ostend, and you can take a ferry to Ramsgate, and from there you can get a train to Hertfords.h.i.+re. You'll be safe once you get to Ramsgate. And in Belgium before that, thanks to the colonel. I'll give you as much money as I have here. Charles will take care of the rest, and I'll settle it with him later. You must go, my darling. We have no choice. Think of Nick and Toby and Lucas, and how brave they were. And they went much farther, to be with people they didn't know. You'll be safe and happy with the Beaulieus."

"But I can't leave you here." She was aghast at the idea.

"You have to. I'll be fine. They're not after me. We're not Jewish. We've done nothing wrong. We will coexist peacefully until this dreadful war is over, and then you can come home and we'll go on as before. But I want you out of Germany before it gets any worse. There's no telling what Hitler will do."

"What if it takes years?" she asked, wiping away tears, trying to be brave.

"Hopefully, it won't take long. But this is what we have to do."

"Who will take care of you?" she asked, starting to cry again, and he smiled at her.

"I will. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. I'm not an old man like Paul. I'm not sick. I'll just be here, waiting for you." She had just turned nineteen, and he had no idea when he'd see her again, but he was more than willing to deprive himself of the pleasure of her company, for her own good. "You must pack tonight. Don't take too much, as you'll have to carry it yourself. Take what you need. And if anyone asks you tonight, say that you are going to visit friends in Berlin, for a party or two." Berlin was very lively these days, with officers and pretty women going to celebrations and glamorous parties. They talked for a few more minutes, and then he sent her to her room to start packing. Alex sat in a chair and stared into the fire for a long time. It had been a terrifying gamble, but it had turned out well. And even though he would miss her terribly, he knew he had done the right thing for Marianne.

Chapter 18.

When Alex took Marianne to the station at seven the next morning, there were mostly soldiers getting on the train, and a few old farmers. She was the only woman, and she looked panicked for a minute, as she held a suitcase in each hand and set them down in her compartment. Alex had bought her a first-cla.s.s ticket, and she looked very grown up in a dark blue coat and a black hat with a small face veil, and ladylike high-heeled black shoes. She looked seriously dressed, well born, and demure. He had instructed her to hide most of the money he gave her under her clothing, and keep only a small amount in her purse.

"You'll be fine," her father rea.s.sured her. He had already given her her travel papers and her pa.s.sport and as much money as seemed sensible, and she was clutching her purse as she looked at her father with tears bulging in her eyes. She could barely speak. She had no idea when she would see him again, and she was trying to engrave this image of him in her memory in every detail.

"I'll miss you so much, Papa," she said, as she hugged him and clung to him.

"I'll miss you too," he said, trying to keep his voice strong for her, and his face calmer than he felt. "Charles will write to me through friends in New York to tell me you've arrived. Be careful, Marianne. Don't talk to anyone." After changing trains at the border, she would get to Ostend in nine or ten hours, and she would cross the channel that night to Ramsgate, catch another train, and be in Hertfords.h.i.+re by morning. She would have to take a taxi from the station to the Beaulieus', since they didn't know when she was arriving, and he had no way to tell them. But Alex knew that she was responsible and enterprising enough to get there on her own. He just hoped that none of the soldiers bothered her on the way. And her papers were in order. He checked them himself. And with a colonel of the high command having signed them, no one would dare give her trouble. "Be a good girl, Marianne," he said in a hoa.r.s.e voice as the train whistle blew. He hugged her fiercely one last time and then left her compartment and hopped off the train. She opened the window and leaned out to him, with her hat slightly askew. She looked beautiful, and he knew he would see her forever this way in his mind. It would have to last him until Germany was a safe place for her to be again.

"I love you, Papa!" she shouted, as the train started to move, and he stepped back, waving at her with a broad smile, hoping she couldn't see his tears.

"I love you too!" he shouted back, as he began to disappear with the station. Tears were pouring down her cheeks, and she was alone in the compartment. He was only a speck by then, and the train rounded a bend, and he was gone. She closed the window, and sat on the banquette crying softly. She still couldn't believe that he had made her leave and go to people she barely knew. She couldn't even remember the Beaulieus or what they were like, and now she was going to have to live with them, maybe for years. All she wanted to do was go back home and hide under the covers, or look for her father in the stables. She was leaving everything she held dear and that was familiar to her, going to strange people in a strange land. And she thought of Nick then, and Toby, and remembered what her father said about how brave they had been when they left sixteen months before. It seemed as though they'd been gone so much longer. And once she got to England, she was going to write to Toby and tell him what had happened to her.

Alex left the station with his head down, and tears rolling down his face. He got into his car and felt like a thousand-year-old man as he drove slowly home. There was nothing to look forward to now, nothing to wait for, no one to come home to at night, until after the war. He drove past Nick's schloss and saw all the soldiers standing outside, talking and walking in and out. And as he drove by, he saw the colonel leave the courtyard on Favory, and Alex slowed to watch him. The colonel turned and caught his eye, and Alex saluted him smartly in a gesture of thanks. The colonel returned the salute, and Alex drove home, thinking of his daughter on the way to Belgium. It had been a good trade. The best one of his life.

When Marianne reached the Belgian border, she changed trains carrying both her suitcases. They were heavy, but she could manage them. She was confused for a minute about which track her train would be on. She asked for directions and found it after that, and settled into the compartment. She had pa.s.sed through customs with no problem, and the train went straight to Ostend. She dozed on the way, and didn't eat all day. She felt sick every time she thought of leaving her father. She could still remember his face in the station. She woke up crying a few times, and when they got to Ostend, she was exhausted. She had to take a taxi to the ferry, and several other pa.s.sengers were going there too. It was raining, but the sea looked smooth when she got there. She had heard horror stories about crossing the English Channel, but it was a peaceful moonlit night, as she stood on deck and watched Belgium fade away behind her. Germany already seemed light-years away. The pa.s.sengers had been warned that they could be torpedoed although it was unlikely on a Belgian ferry, but she wore a life jacket anyway.

It took an hour for the little ferry to reach Ramsgate, and it was nearly midnight when they arrived. A single customs officer stamped her pa.s.sport, and although she was German, he let her through. She was pretty and young, and he decided to be lenient about it. He could have stopped her pending further inquiry, but he didn't. There were two taxis parked at the dock, and she took one of them to the train station, and had to wait an hour for her train to arrive, and then for the first time all day, she finally ate. She was ravenous. She hadn't eaten since six o'clock that morning. She ate a sandwich of sausages, and ordered a cup of tea, and by the time she walked back to the platform with her bags, the train was pulling into the station. She got on it and settled into the darkened compartment with a little blue light on. There was already a woman on the opposite banquette sound asleep, as she set her bags down and a porter helped her put them in an upper rack. And then she sat down, and watched the darkness as they slid past the British countryside. She had been in three countries that day, and she finally fell asleep.

The conductor woke her when they were pulling into Hertfords.h.i.+re, and she put her hat back on without combing her hair. She was too tired and sad to care how she looked. She already missed her father terribly. She had brought a whole box of photographs of him in her suitcase, and a few of her mother. She found a cab easily at the station. It was eight o'clock in the morning, twenty-five hours after her journey had begun. She had traveled easily out of Germany with the papers the colonel had given her father in exchange for the Lipizzaner stallion. Her life in trade for a horse.

She told the driver at the station that she was going to Haversham Castle, and he glanced at her in the rearview mirror. He was an old man, and had been driving a taxi for years. He didn't ask her where she was coming from-she looked as though she didn't want to talk, as she watched the countryside around them. There were cows in pastures, and sheep, and fields, and a few houses scattered here and there, and finally the castle came into view. It was ten times the size of their schloss, and terrifying-looking, as though it would be full of ghosts and scary old people, and she wanted to burst into tears as they arrived at the front gate, which was open, and the battered old car drove into the courtyard and she got out. She paid the driver, and he drove away as she banged the enormous bra.s.s knocker on the front door. She had no idea what to expect as she stood between her two suitcases, and a butler in a morning coat came to find her, rumpled and exhausted, with her hat half falling off her blond hair.

She looked up at him with enormous frightened eyes and nearly choked, while she said her name in a whisper. "Marianne von Hemmerle. I believe the marchioness of Haversham is expecting me." Her English and her manners were excellent, but she looked like an orphan, and he felt sorry for her. He took her bags and led her into the main hall, which was a long, dark corridor filled with portraits of their ancestors. It was a gloomy place and freezing cold, as he led her into a small parlor near the front door. And the moment he left her, he went out to the garden to find the marchioness, who was already gardening, which she did most of the time. She was a youthful woman, with a girlish face and prematurely white hair the color of snow, which she was wearing in a long braid down her back. She was wearing an old plaid jacket, yellow gardening boots, and a heavy sweater. The butler bowed politely as soon as he approached her. He seemed much more respectable than she did.

"Ma'am, there's a young lady to see you. Miss von Hemmerle. She looks as though she's had a long journey," he said sympathetically. "She arrived by taxi from the train station, I believe, with two bags. Should I take her upstairs to a room?" He was used to people coming and going at Haversham. The Beaulieus were hospitable, and frequently entertained their friends, their children's friends, and people they barely knew.

"Oh my Lord!" the marchioness said, as she dropped her gardening tools, and ran toward the morning room door. "Marianne ... the poor child ... where is she, William?" She turned to him with worried eyes.

"In the front parlor, ma'am, with her bags," he answered as she rushed past him, and burst into the room where Marianne was sitting with a terrified expression. And as the woman with the long white braid exploded into the room, Marianne stood up, and vaguely remembered meeting her as a child. She was very thin then, very athletic, very British, and very pretty, in a disheveled aristocratic way. And before Marianne could say a word, the woman threw her arms around her and hugged her, and then backed up to observe her and gently stroked the tangled blond hair.

"My poor darling. Did you have a terrible trip?" She was all sympathy and kindness as two big hunting dogs came into the room and wagged their tails, and a Jack Russell followed a minute later, barking at his mistress and their guest.

"Oh, Rupert! Will you stop!" she shouted at the small dog, and went back to fussing over Marianne and insisted that she come to the breakfast room for something to eat and a cup of tea.

"William, please ask Cook for a decent breakfast and a pot of tea," she said. "I'm sorry, darling, we've been on rationing for two months, but she'll come up with something." The butler disappeared immediately, as Isabel led Marianne to the morning room, and she sank down next to Isabel on an overstuffed blue velvet couch, and looked around the room. There were bright chintzes and soft colors everywhere, an enormous fireplace, and a wall full of books, and through the windows and open door, Marianne could see gardens and trees and a lake, and the beautiful grounds of the castle. She felt as though she had landed in a dream, someone else's surely but not her own, as her hostess sat next to her holding her hand and trying to make her feel at home. She had never met anyone with such kind eyes. Everything about her was welcoming and warm, and she punctuated everything she said with giggles and little bursts of laughter and silly jokes, and then scolded the dogs. And as the delicious breakfast came in on an enormous silver tray, Marianne looked at her with wide eyes. The cook had come up with oatmeal, scones, and some jam she'd been saving.

"Thank you for having me. I'm so sorry to come as such a surprise."

"We were expecting you," Isabel Beaulieu said with a warm smile. "Now eat, and then I'll take you up to your bedroom so you can settle in." As she said it, one of the hunting dogs stole a piece of scone, and Isabel scolded him, and they both laughed. Despite the enormous, daunting castle they lived in, Marianne had never met a kinder, friendlier woman in her life. She was like the mother Marianne had never had and always wished she did. And it wasn't scary being here at all. "And how is your father? Charles was quite worried about the two of you."

"He's fine," Marianne said between bites, while the dogs stared at her mournfully, hoping for another bit of scone, but Marianne ate it all. She was starving. "He traded a horse to get me out of Germany, a Lipizzaner," she said, as Isabel looked at her in surprise.

"Well, apparently it worked, and here you are. Charles will be so pleased. We were quite concerned about when you'd arrive. This was a very good time to leave Germany, with that dreadful little man attacking everyone. We'll put him in his place very quickly. My boys are in the RAF, you know," she said proudly, as Marianne finished the breakfast and the dogs walked away in disgust. She was embarra.s.sed by how hungry she'd been. She had eaten everything. "Now let's take you to your room, and you can have a little rest," Isabel said, as though Marianne had come from London for the weekend. And knowing that she might be there for a long time, and probably would be, she had given her their best guest room.