The Cavendon Luck

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “No, I didn’t. And on purpose. I really had no reason to know, because she wasn’t coming. That wasn’t true of course; she was leaving Berlin. But it was a secret. However, I couldn’t say that to Cecily. So I sort of fudged it. Ignored it, actually. I simply rushed on at top speed, explaining that I was worried about Greta, and how she would cope with the knowledge that her father and the family faced death in Germany. I’ve known Cecily all my life, and I realized that she would mostly be concerned about Greta, to whom she is devoted.”

  “And you were correct. She didn’t press you. And by the way, I do think you came up with the right solution, regarding a psychiatrist. One should be on hand when Mrs. Steinbrenner does get here. She’ll need a lot of help.”

  A waiter came with their glasses of champagne, and they toasted each other. And then, very quietly, William said, “And to the remarkable Valiant who truly deserves the code name you gave him, Diedre.”

  “He does indeed,” Diedre murmured, and they touched glasses.

  “And we must always protect him as best we can,” she added.

  There was a small silence, and neither of them spoke for a moment or two. This was not unusual. They had worked closely together for three years, and they understood each other. Their silences were always compatible, just as their everyday dealings were.

  William was the first to break the silence, when he asked, “What exactly do we know about Alexander Dubé?”

  “That he’s a close, old friend of Jerry Randell’s. They went to college together. Alexander is an impresario in the music world, and is constantly in Berlin, because of the philharmonic orchestra. Apparently he’s willing to do a favor now and then for Randell, who only occasionally asks him. And it must always be a favor that doesn’t put Dubé in harm’s way. Jerry insists on that.”

  William took a sip of the wine, then asked, “So your idea is to have him on the train out of Berlin to Paris? As a sort of guard, someone to protect the family should trouble erupt.”

  “The trains are full of German troops, foreigners, Gestapo, and God knows who else. And, since Mrs. Steinbrenner has a nervous disposition, who knows what she might do. Unexpectedly. I think that the professor might be a little naïve, not as worldly as we might imagine. Dubé and Tony would be able to control any kind of situation that might develop.” Diedre eyed William intently.

  “And when they get to Paris?” he asked quizzically.

  “Tony will take them to the British embassy, where the family will be issued visas. It has been arranged already. Dubé will be with them, and he will accompany them to London.”

  When William was silent, sat looking into the distance with a reflective expression in his eyes, Diedre wondered if he did not like the plan she had created. She sat back in her chair and waited, not only puzzled but worried. She had never seen him like this … was it preoccupation? She did not know. The thing she did know was that she enjoyed being with him out of the office. He touched her, and made her feel like a woman again. Suddenly, she realized how attracted she was to him.

  Eventually, William said, “It all makes sense to me, Diedre. I might be falling into the proverbial trap, thinking that all professors are absentminded, but I believe it’s better to be safe. The protection sounds good to me; let’s hope Alexander Dubé will agree to do it.”

  “I think he will. It’s not a difficult task, and he’s not in harm’s way, not by a long shot,” she answered, still full of surprise that William Lawson appealed to her.

  “Agreed. Moving on, I had a meeting with the PM today,” William confided. “I came away frustrated and baffled. Chamberlain just doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand that appeasement is like … well, whistling in the dark. Lord Halifax doesn’t help, goading him on.” William shook his head, and there was a troubled look in his dark intelligent eyes. “Why won’t they understand that Hitler’s a killer, a proven mass murderer intent on world domination? They can’t be that stupid. Or can they?” A dark brow lifted as he stared at her.

  “Maybe they are exactly that. Or perhaps it’s wishful thinking on their part. Then again, there is a segment of the British establishment who actually believe Hitler is much more preferable to Stalin. They fear Communism.”

  “I think I’ll go and buy them copies of Mein Kampf. And tell them to believe every word they read,” he exclaimed.

  “They just won’t read it, Will, so save your money.”

  He chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t really going to buy them Hitler’s book, you know. I was being sarcastic.”

  “My father believes Churchill should be prime minister. He says he’s the only one who has vision, and who can save us, save Europe, and ultimately save Western civilization.”

  “I totally agree with him, and speaking of your father, I suppose you’re going to Cavendon this weekend?”

  Diedre gave him a swift glance. “Well, yes, I was. I haven’t seen Robin for almost two weeks, and anyway I do want to give my father the once-over, so to speak. Before I left for Geneva he wasn’t looking his best. But if I have to work, I’ll stay in London, of course. If you need me.”

  He didn’t answer. He just sat there gazing at her in the candlelight.

  There was something in his eyes, an expression she didn’t quite understand, and his face, frequently so alive and animated, was perfectly still. In fact, he looked almost sorrowful, she thought. Even troubled.

  Finally, she asked, “Is everything all right, Will?”

  Rousing himself quickly from his thoughts about her, his feelings for her, his need of her, he nodded. “No problem. I was just thinking about two agents I’ve taken on,” he improvised and then continued, “A man and a woman who know France inside out. Both are half French, half English, and want to be operatives over there. When the time comes. Which it will.”

  “Do you want me to meet them? Are they in London?”

  “Oh yes, they live here. And I don’t want you to meet them, I want you to run them,” he replied. “I think you should supervise them, and their special training.”

  “Are they related? A married couple?” she asked.

  “No, no. They don’t even know each other yet. So, what do you say?”

  “I’ll handle them for you, Will. You know I’ll do anything you want.”

  He was silent, and before he could think of anything to say, Jacques arrived with the food they had ordered. Much to his relief.

  * * *

  Diedre woke up in the middle of the night, and within seconds she was getting out of bed, going into the kitchen. She boiled a cup of milk for herself, and took it back to bed, lay in the darkened room, sipping the milk, and thinking about William Lawson.

  It had been a nice evening. He had been charming, amusing at times, and very clever about their work. But then he was brilliant when it came to military intelligence, and they saw eye to eye on most things. They had touched on a few personal matters and that was it.

  Naturally, he had been the perfect gentleman all evening, considerate and kind. He had hailed a cab after leaving the restaurant, brought her home, said good night, and gone on his way in the cab.

  But she knew something strange had happened to her tonight, even as she was putting her key in the front door. But what was it really? She had unexpectedly realized she found him attractive, and very appealing. But there was something more there, underneath the surface. A strong physical attraction.

  This thought made her sit bolt upright in the bed, and she almost spilled the milk. Sexual attraction. How could that be? She had not thought of sex since Paul died. Oh my God, she muttered, and put the milk on the bedside table because she had suddenly started to shake. Turning on the bedside lamp, she got out of bed and went to find a dressing gown and a pair of slippers. She felt chilled right through to the bone.

  Now wide awake, Diedre sat down at her favorite desk which stood under the bedroom window. Because it was a French bureau plat, designed like a table, it worked well with the bedroom décor. Paul had bought
it for her in Paris because he knew how much she loved desks, and had since her childhood.

  Paul. She looked to her left, and stared at his picture in the silver frame. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, but she managed to blink them away. She had cried so much after his sudden and unexpected death she thought she had no tears left in her.

  How she had grieved for him … for a whole year. At one moment she thought she would never recover, she missed him so much … his humor, his quirky American slang, his love and desire for her … gone from her in an instant.

  It was Daphne who had taken her down to the gazebo at Cavendon and lectured her, telling her a year was long enough for this intense grief, and that she should look after her young son, also stricken with sorrow. Daphne’s tough words had pulled her up short, and made her understand she had neglected Robin in a certain sense. She knew she must change and make amends.

  When Hugo came to talk to her, some weeks later, he had suggested that Robin should go to boarding school. For a few moments she had balked at the idea, but had then begun to see the sense of this.

  Robin would be with boys of his own age, and there would be schoolmasters to guide him. He needed men in his life, that was true.

  Hugo had suggested Colet Court, and had taken her to see the school. And then she had broached the idea to Robin. He had not been interested at all and wanted to stay at home with her. In an effort to persuade him, she had adopted his father’s language, and said, “Let’s make a deal, Robin.”

  He had looked at her, and retorted, “What’s in it for me?” Her son was also using Paul’s business language, and suddenly he had smiled for the first time in ages.

  She remembered now how she had been thrilled by that smiling face, and had shot back, “One month at Colet Court. If you don’t like it, you can leave, and decide where you want to be educated until you go to Eton when you’re thirteen.”

  He had accepted the deal on a handshake, again following his father’s rules by saying, “My handshake seals the contract.”

  Fortunately, Robin had loved Colet Court right from the beginning, and was genuinely happy there. And in the holidays and the summer months he stayed at Cavendon. During the week he had his cousins, and most especially Charlie, his grandfather, Miles, and Harry, who had taught him to be a fine horseman. And she went every weekend.

  Once Robin had settled at school, she had suddenly realized the flat was empty; she had nothing to do. At once she had known she must go back to work. She had always loved being in intelligence, and when she had gone to see the new head of the unit, she had been pleasantly surprised.

  William Lawson had welcomed her with enthusiasm and open arms, and appointed her to the top position. In fact, if he was ever ill or absent, she would take his place, as his second in command, and reporting only to the prime minister.

  Will. She closed her eyes, picturing them together in the restaurant last night. Why had it been different? After all, she had had dinner with him before. But previously it had been much more businesslike, and, more often than not, there was someone with them.

  We were alone, relaxed. He was pleased with everything I’d done about the Steinbrenners. Also delighted with the news I had brought from Valiant. We had champagne, and wine and a cozy supper.

  He was who he is as a man and not my boss.

  And he was interested in me as a woman. What I thought was a sad look in his eyes was actually tenderness. And at one moment it was a yearning … for companionship? For love? For me? She wasn’t sure, but she suddenly understood that just as she had found him appealing, he had felt the same about her.

  This sudden insight into William Lawson startled her. But it also frightened her. She could not let herself fall under his spell. They worked together. They could not become involved.

  Opening her eyes, Diedre rose from the chair, slipped out of her dressing gown, and went to bed, hoping to sleep. But it eluded her. She lay there in the darkness, thinking about Paul. Being attracted to another man was not a betrayal of their love. Not in any way whatsoever. Paul had been dead almost five years now. And he wouldn’t want her to be alone. He would say life was for the living.

  But why Will? she asked herself. The world is full of men. Why him, someone she worked with? Nobody would ever be able to answer that question. But she guessed it was because she found herself drawn to him, wanted to know him better as a man. That had begun to happen in the little restaurant in Chelsea. And of course it had been sexual attraction. Why pretend otherwise? But what she would do about it was another thing entirely. And what would he do? She couldn’t hazard a guess.

  He had never told her much about himself, but Tony had. They were related by marriage; Tony’s cousin Veronica was married to Ambrose Lawson, William’s brother, and they considered themselves family.

  Tony had told her Will’s wife had been difficult, a jealous, neurotic woman, and that she had made his life hell. And so he had thrown himself into work, had taken every foreign assignment offered. His wife had become an invalid; and she had been dead for fifteen years. “They didn’t have any children,” Tony had added the night he had filled her in about her boss … three years ago now.

  She couldn’t help wondering if there was a woman friend in the background. It would be quite normal for him to have a relationship. After all, he was a handsome, rather masculine man that made a woman feel safe.

  Her thoughts ran on, became more complex and intimate, which alarmed her momentarily. And then she let her imagination run free, and lay awake until dawn, when she finally fell asleep with the image of William Lawson engraved on her brain.

  Twenty-eight

  Diedre was blessed with an extraordinary memory, could recall conversations with people from years ago, as well as details of meetings and other occasions. For this reason she never took notes or wrote anything down, which she considered a dangerous habit. Any small notation she might make was burned at the first opportunity.

  Her method of conveying information was to relay it personally and as soon as possible. She would then store it away in the recesses of her mind, to draw on when needed.

  The moment she arrived at her office on Thursday morning, she telephoned Tony Jenkins at the British embassy in Berlin.

  “It’s me, Daffy Dilly,” she said when he answered his phone on the third ring.

  “I hoped it would be you,” Tony answered, relief echoing in his voice. “I went for caviar last night. Wish you’d been with me. The pot of gold will be in my hands next Wednesday, six days from now.”

  “Congratulations. I hope the caviar was good.”

  “Delicious. Have you any news about the bedsocks?”

  “I have. I’ll explain in a moment. I just want to say you’ve done an excellent job, Tony, and at top speed. Thank you. Now, regarding the bedsocks. They’re going to be delivered by you and Alexander Dubé, whom you’ve heard about.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “From what I’ve learned, the person needing the bedsocks is highly strung, nervous, and could be difficult. She might need help putting them on.”

  “We’ll manage it,” Tony replied. “But what if she wants to take them off on the train and freezes again?”

  “You and Alexander Dubé will know how to handle it, if you get my drift. Am I safe to keep talking?”

  “I checked this morning, as I do every day, and you’re good to continue. This phone is safe.”

  “I will arrange for Dubé to meet you in Berlin. He’ll be filled in, will understand everything. You and he will escort the travelers to Aachen and continue on to Belgium, and then to France.”

  “So I will stay on the train, right through to Paris and make sure all is okay at the British embassy. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. But I thought that the visa situation had been put in place already.”

  “It has. However, I’ll get in touch with the visa division, just to make sure. Anything to report on our academic friend?”

  “I spoke to
my great-aunt, who knows his wife. She told me that he’s a very nice man, kind, but loves to brag. He promises people the earth, then can’t deliver.”

  “That’s what I thought. How do we shut him up? He might blab all over the place, saying he can get the professor out. That would be dangerous talk, draw attention to the prof.”

  “We don’t, we can’t shut him up. He’s not under our control. And we can’t tell him the truth. However, you might want to let the professor know that everything is set for next week. Insist it must be kept secret. He should know that if he talks it could be fatal.”

  “I’ll deal with it.”

  “I’ll never understand why people don’t comprehend the gravity of events taking place around them. The world is changing and they don’t pay attention.”

  “They don’t see the menace or the danger,” Tony answered.

  “Correct. How’s the weather?”

  “Not good. Storms. Thunder and lightning imminent. I’m happy you’re not here. I wouldn’t want you to get your feet wet.”

  “I’ll be seeing my contact regarding Mr. Dubé later today. I’ll fill you in tomorrow. And please decide where you want to end up.”

  “I can tell you now. I’ll stay in Paris with Mr. Dubé until they leave for London. Just to be sure all’s well that ends well, to quote good old Will … Shakespeare, that is.”

  “I know who you meant.”

  They said good-bye and hung up. Leaning back in her chair, Diedre focused on Greta Chalmers, wondering what to tell her, if anything at all.

  After some consideration, she decided not to say a word. I’ll let it just happen, she thought. Greta doesn’t have to know in advance. Something could go wrong on the way to the border. It has in the past.

  There was a knock on the door, and Will walked in. “Am I interrupting? You look lost in thought.”

  “I was about to come and see you. I just spoke to Tony. The Steinbrenners will leave next Wednesday. The documents are ready.”