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Berthold froze, but only for an instant. Then he gave a small smile, only a tightening of the lips. “You see that?” he asked softly. “But Britain does not suffer.”
“We will,” Margot replied, meeting his eyes candidly—or at least she meant it to be. If you are going to lie, do it wholeheartedly. “Germany is our natural ally, don’t you think?”
His eyes widened a fraction. “Natural?”
“You want me to start as near as I can to the beginning?” she asked, the first thing that came to her mind. She was in dangerous territory; one step had taken her there—it was as easy as that—but she felt impelled to seize the chance.
Now Berthold was intensely interested. It showed in the rigidity of his shoulders, the fact that his arms did not move at all, even to set down his glass. “And what do you consider that to be?”
“The origin of our language seems the place to me,”
she replied, making it up as she went along. She hoped her racing mind did not show in her eyes.
“Yes,” he nodded so fractionally as to be barely visible. “They are two trees from the same root. But you were conquered by William of Normandy in 1066. Now you have more French than we do. They were your overlords for years,” he said bleakly, “as were the Romans before them. Hence, all the Latin among your words.” He was smiling now. A petty nationalist victory.
She smiled back. “And we have collected thousands of words and ideas from having an empire that stretches around the earth, but we’re happy to share them.”
There was a flash of appreciation in his eyes. She had been right; he did not respect an easy victory.
“Do you think there are many English who think that Germany is your natural ally?” It was a question to which he wanted an answer. She could tell in his carefully affected disinterest.
“Not so many,” she replied equally levelly. “But they are all in very interesting places.”
“Such as?”
“For example…” Her mind raced. “One cabinet minister is worth more than a thousand agricultural laborers.”
He breathed out in a gentle sigh. “I think you are unusual in your understanding, but not unique.”
“I hope not,” she said, suddenly earnest. The instinct was too deep to deny. “It’s a bit like a river, don’t you think? It starts with a spring bubbling out of the ground, far from the sea. Other streams join it. It gets bigger, deeper, maybe faster. By the time it reaches the sea, it is scouring its way through valleys, over waterfalls, until it is an irresistible force.”
“Frau Driscoll, you are a remarkable woman,” he said softly. “I hope you stay in Berlin after the wedding. There are people I would like you to meet, interesting people I think you would like; and I’m sure they would like you.”
There was the opportunity, right in front of her. Had it been like this for Elena when she was in Berlin? She never spoke of it. In fact, she very obviously had avoided it. There had been a loss there, but perhaps many other things, too. There was a big change in the pattern of their relationship. Margot was four years older, and she had always known Elena well. Elena kept very few secrets, until now, and Margot was just beginning to understand that they were deep. Held because of their nature—not for power, but for safety. “How interesting,” she murmured. “How…encouraging.”
“Hans never mentioned you, so I conclude that you have only just met.”
It was a delicate compliment. She smiled, appreciating it. “Yes, I have known Cecily since we lived here years ago. My father was a friend of her father’s so it was natural we should meet.”
“We?”
Had that been a mistake? She should not tell him too much. She might make a slip she could not cover. What did he know of Grandfather Lucas?
He was waiting.
“My family,” she replied. “My sister was closer to Cecily’s age.”
“She is here with you?”
“No, her job would not allow her.”
“But yours?”
“I’m a widow.” There was no point in denying it, it would seem dishonest.
“I’m sorry,” he said with apparent sincerity.
“England and Germany have so many.” She seized the chance. It was open right in front of her. “Yes, we must never, ever let that happen again.” She put all the grief of her own loss into her voice, her face, even the tears that came into her eyes. “Not ever.”
