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“A housemaid,” Jacob supplied. “That will not cause any comment.”
Elena nodded. Everything was happening too quickly, but even in her dazed state, she could see the sense in that. “I will be happy to do whatever I can. I don’t know where to go…yet. I should get out of Berlin, perhaps to Paris, and then home.”
“They’ll be looking for you.” Jacob shook his head. “One day at a time. There’ll be a way.”
“You’ll have to say that you have no idea who I am.” She looked from one to the other of them, suddenly aware that she was putting them in danger. “Jacob—”
“We’re used to it,” he said with sudden bitterness. “Eli, Zillah’s husband, thinks there’s really nothing wrong, and it will all pass over.”
Zillah drew in her breath to caution him, or perhaps to contradict. Elena was not sure, but it seemed that Zillah changed her mind, as if she would not speak of her husband with disrespect, even if she disagreed with his opinion.
Zillah smiled, but only with her lips. In her eyes there was a dark fear. “He thinks that we are Germans first, and Jews only by chance,” she said softly. “We are necessary. He is a research chemist. They cannot do without people like him. He credits them with more sense than I do.” Her voice wavered very slightly. “I don’t think they care what we do, how long our forebears have been here, or anything else.” She straightened her shoulders. “But you must be hungry! When did you last eat? Breakfast, I imagine? You can do nothing well on an empty stomach. I’ll find a good plain dress for you, and Marta will get you something to eat.” She turned from Elena to Jacob. “Don’t stand there, my dear! Do something useful!”
He shot a quick smile at Elena, then looked back at Zillah. “Would you like me to attend to the dress, or the lunch?”
Zillah did not bother to answer him, but she smiled. “Come,” she said to Elena. “We must be quick and quiet about this.” She led the way out of the room, and Elena followed her.
CHAPTER
16
Margot was really annoyed with Elena. It was nearly three days now, and she had not bothered to send any message at all as to where she was. If she had stopped off in Paris and decided to stay there with Ian, or alone, she could at least have said so! It took very little effort to send a telegram and say something, even if it was only an apology for tearing off like that with only a brief note. Not that Margot blamed her entirely, if she was honest. She might well have done the same thing. Indeed, she had, more than once. But she had had the decency to let people know, and apologize, more or less.
Margot had wired her parents, and they had heard nothing either. She had not thought it possible to become bored with Amalfi, but she had. There was no choice but to see if Elena was sitting in a heap in Paris, miserable that the affair had gone no further, too proud to tell anyone, and unable to go home until she had pulled herself together. Katherine had always expected Margot to look after her younger sister. Now she was going to have to do it again. Actually, Elena was perfectly capable of looking after herself. She just wouldn’t do the expected things. And to be honest, she had made an awful mess of the Aiden Strother business. She took everything so deeply! She had been loyal to him far longer than had been realistic. But alas, Elena was not a realist.
Margot checked out of the hotel very early in the morning and took the long, rather tedious train journey to Rome, Milan, and then Paris. The first place to look, of course, was the small Hôtel de l’Abbaye, on Rue Cassette, where they usually stayed. She went there and asked, but the staff had seen nothing of Elena. Margot booked herself a room anyway, then set out to walk in the usual places, to the cafés where she and Elena had gone together in the past. Damn it, they had lived in Paris long enough, when their father was British ambassador here. There must be some old friends still around.
She walked along the street with a swing in her step, with no particular care where she was going. She was wearing a black-and-white silk dress, and she felt the swirl of it with pleasure. They might not know if they had seen Elena or not, but they would remember Margot!
Three hours and many questions later, she was fed up with this and decided she would go home, whether she found Elena or not. She had memories of looking for her as a little girl, when Elena was rather sweet. Always asking questions. “How does this work?” “What does it do?” And more than anything else, “Why?” She supposed that they had grown apart while Margot fell in love with Paul. There had been no room for anyone else then. How could there be? Who wanted a little sister along on the short visits they had together? So short…Elena had never fallen in love, not really deeply in love, as far as Margot knew. She did not court Aiden Strother. That was infatuation. She never even saw the real man behind the façade. Now there were hardly any real men left to fall for, and Elena was far too serious for most of them, yet not domestic enough for someone who wanted a traditional wife.
Margot was sitting in the shade of the Luxembourg Gardens the next morning. It was beautiful, an island of enormous trees, sudden statues, whispering leaves above.
Where in hell had Elena got to? Why couldn’t she at least have the decency to let people know? She was so bland on the surface, people might not remember her, even if she had walked by them some time ago! She wore too much blue. Empty blue, like the sea, or the sky.
Margot was all fire and ice. Nobody forgot her.
She went out through the gates into the street and passed a newsstand with the morning’s front pages displayed.
Margot slowed her pace. The woman staring at her from the newspaper bore a striking resemblance to Elena. But it could also be any one of a half million other young women. She pushed the thought away, passed the newsstand…and then turned back.
That really could be Elena. It looked like her…a lot. Margot took a couple of steps closer.
It was the woman suspected of having assassinated Friedrich Scharnhorst! Not that he didn’t need assassinating; he was a monster, well nicknamed the Hyena! Apparently it had happened in Berlin a day ago.
She really did look like Elena. Odd. Wonder what her name was? She was probably German.
Margot leaned forward and looked at the picture more closely. Then the coldness seized her with a grip like iron. It was Elena. The slightly winged eyebrows, the high cheekbones, the unexpectedly sensuous mouth.
Margot read the caption underneath. “Englishwoman wanted for the murder of Friedrich Scharnhorst. Possibly Elena Standish, daughter of a previous British ambassador to Berlin.” And it gave the dates.
Margot stood frozen. That couldn’t be true! Not Elena, of all people. What the hell had happened? Had that apparently harmless-looking young man, Ian what’s-his-name, done it and left Elena to carry the blame? Was that what he wanted all along? God, he was convincing! Margot would never have guessed, and she was pretty skilled at judging character, especially in men. First Aiden Strother, and now this! But this was infinitely worse.
“Madame?”
She realized the newspaper seller was speaking to her. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a few coins and gave them to the man. Snatching up the paper, she turned and walked quickly away. What on earth had Elena got herself into? How could Margot help?
Obvious! First thing was to go to Berlin, to the British Embassy. Roger Cordell was still there. He had been a good friend to their father, and he had liked Margot. He had always made that clear, though he had never overstepped the mark and been overfamiliar. His own wife had never recovered from the losses of the war. In Margot’s opinion, she didn’t seem to have tried very hard. She had retreated from caring. Perhaps Margot judged her harshly because she needed to believe that grief could be overcome, because she was so deeply afraid of it herself!
