by Brenda Joyce
“And how was your afternoon?” Ellen asked, smiling brightly.
“We fed the swans,” Hannah chirped before Rachel could reply.
Rachel felt her smile vanish and her heart lurch. Images she wished to forget assailed her. She took Hannah’s hand and squeezed it warningly. Then she smiled at her hostess. “Your swans are lovely. Your home is lovely. And the gardens! It was a wonderful afternoon.” She refused to think about the mocking look in Lionel’s eyes that afternoon.
Ellen smiled happily. “My family used to summer here. I am so glad to be back.”
At that moment, Harry walked into the hall. He took one look at Sarah and he flushed. Sarah sent him an enticing smile.
Their soaring interest and attraction to each other were only too plain. And Rachel was not the only one to notice; Papa saw, and his expression turned incredulous. Ellen noticed as well, and her eyebrows shot up. But mostly, Elgin saw. Their host stared wide-eyed, and then the dark flush of anger crept over his refined features.
Sarah must have sensed his dismay, because she smiled brightly at him. “I do so love your home, my lord,” she said softly to her uncle. “I cannot thank you enough for having us. Coming to the country is no small thing for my family. Truly, the air is so much fresher here!”
Elgin started. Then, gruffly, “It was what Helen wanted.”
Sarah appeared bewildered. “Helen?”
Rachel coughed and whispered, “That was Mama’s name before she converted.”
Sarah blinked at Rachel. “I never knew.”
“You look just like her,” Elgin said abruptly.
Everyone had always compared Mama and Sarah. They had the same hazel eyes, the same oval face, and even close to the same hair, with Sarah’s being just a shade or two darker blond, with more curls. “I beg your pardon?” Sarah said.
“I cannot get over it,” he said grimly. “You are Helen’s exact image. The dark blond hair, the eyes, even your features are the same. Helen spoke the way you do, too. She was always happy and far too forthright. It is like being thrust back in time, or like looking at a ghost.”
For one moment, no one spoke. Lady Ellen seemed genuinely surprised by her husband’s remarks. Even Harry looked a bit taken aback. Perhaps, Rachel thought, Elgin rarely expressed his feelings.
Ellen smiled then, her expression remaining bewildered, and she tucked her arm in her husband’s. “I do wish I had known my sister-in-law,” she said gamely. “I have heard so many wonderful things about her.”
At this moment Lionel entered the hall, also clad in a white dinner jacket. He was actually more handsome than Harry, but Harry’s sunny nature far outweighed his younger brother’s good looks. “Really?” Lionel murmured, his lashes sweeping down over his gray eyes. “And to think I thought we never dared to utter her name, much less speak about her.”
Rachel gaped, appalled, but then realized she had been the only one to hear his aside, as he had come to stand directly beside her. He shot her an odd smile, and all she could think was how he had fed the swan those two beautiful fish.
But Elgin had heard and he turned red. “It is too late now for regrets,” he said flatly. “Shall we?” And he gestured toward the dining room.
Both oversize mahogany doors were wide open, and through them, one could see a vast table set with crystal, silver, and china, and a huge chandelier above. “Are we really going to eat in there?” Hannah asked in breathless wonder.
“Yes, we are,” Papa said gently but grimly.
Rachel moved closer to him. She sensed he needed her loyalty now. He was still, clearly, unhappy and hardly impressed with the wealth of Mama’s family.
Elgin spoke. “Lionel, you may escort your cousin Rachel in. Harry, you may do the same for Hannah. Sarah?” He held out his arm.
Rachel was not quite sure what to do, and she saw that Sarah was also uncertain. But then she saw Papa take Lady Ellen’s arm, tucking it against his side as if he were a real gentleman and leading the way to the dining room. Relieved, Rachel watched Sarah smile at their uncle and tuck her arm in his. She made a comment, and although Rachel couldn’t quite hear, Elgin did smile. Then she realized that Lionel was offering her his arm.
Rachel shivered, thinking about the poor fish. Reluctantly, she looped her elbow in his.
“I don’t bite,” he said calmly, walking with her across the hall. “Only mad dogs—and swans—do that.”
Rachel shot him a glance. “I prefer not to think about the swans just now, thank you.”
Lionel smiled. “Perhaps you should take a lesson or two from your sister Sarah. I doubt feeding the swans with Lady Ellen’s fish would so bother her.”
He was right, but Rachel was prepared to deny it. “Of course she would be bothered by an act that is wrong.”
“And what was so wrong with feeding the swans?” There was laughter in his eyes, but it was too sardonic to be pleasant.
Rachel pulled her arm free. “You stole the fish,” she said in a very low voice so no one might overhear. “They did not belong to you.”
He smiled with real mirth. “They will not be missed,” he said with an indifferent shrug.
Rachel paused by the long table, no longer paying attention to her cousin. She noticed that a small, fancy name card was in front of each place setting. Lionel was pulling out a chair. Clearly it was for her. She checked the name on the card, which was scripted in gold, and took her seat. Her host was on her left and Lionel was on her right. Sarah and Harry were seated together, across from them, with Papa next to Harry and Hannah on the other side of Lionel. Lady Ellen graced the foot of the long table.
Rachel looked around. There were meters and meters between every diner. The table could probably seat twenty or more. Did the Elgins always dine in here? And if they did, what was it like when they did not have guests? Rachel thought it would be awkward, cold and even lonely.
Two servants entered the dining room and began pouring wine and water. Rachel started, turning to look at Papa. They never began a meal without lighting candles and saying a simple blessing. Papa just smiled at her. His eyes were even sadder than they had been earlier.
Rachel glanced across the table at Sarah, but Sarah was eyeing Harry out of the corner of her eye, and Harry was flushing all over again. Sarah smiled as if pleased. Rachel suddenly realized that she was doing something under the table to her cousin. Were they somehow holding hands? What could Sarah possibly be thinking?
“I don’t drink wine,” Hannah suddenly announced. “Except for a sip during the seder.”
The servant moved on.
“And what is a seder?” Lady Ellen asked with a bright smile.
“We celebrate being free people,” Hannah said proudly. “We used to be the pharaoh’s slaves.”
Lady Ellen blinked, not understanding a word Hannah had said.
“It is a Jewish ritual,” Elgin said, taking a sip of his wine.
“It is one of the holiest days of the year,” Papa corrected, seated on Lady Ellen’s other side. “It is a high holy day and a celebration. But Hannah is right. Once we were slaves. Moses led our people to freedom. In fact, the Red Sea parted to allow us to escape the tyranny of bondage in Egypt.”
“Oh,” Lady Ellen said, sipping her white wine, wide-eyed.
Papa seemed irritated. Elgin made a sound.
Food was served.
Rachel could not believe her eyes—there were several different kinds of chicken, as well as a platter each of lamb and beef. There were green vegetables she did not recognize, and a salad of fresh greens. There were roasted potatoes and yellow rice. There was so much food! It was a meal fit for a king and queen. Did they always dine like this?
Her stomach growled. Of course, her family kept a kosher table, so they would not be able to eat everything.
Harry turned to his father. “Father, what do you make of this new post for Anthony Eden?”
Rachel realized they were going to talk about politics. Anthony Eden was som
e government official, but that was all she knew.
Elgin made a scoffing sound. “Absolutely absurd,” he said. “We hardly need a post like ‘minister without portfolio for League of Nations affairs.’”
“Yes, I do agree,” Harry said. “Enough of the League, war will never be out of fashion as the Leaguists hope—unfortunately.”
Sarah was gazing at Harry with wide, worshipful eyes. He turned to grin at her.
“I disagree,” Papa said, sitting up straighter. Rachel took one look at his face, and her heart fell. He had an expression she recognized well: he disagreed and was going to set everyone straight—come hell or high water.
“If more men were Leaguists, war would most definitely become out of fashion, as you put it. Collective security is the answer to the troubles of our times,” he stated firmly.
“So you support the League,” Elgin said with a cool tone. “It is useful enough, I suppose. Pacifists like yourself have a legitimate venue. I am sure the Japanese admire the League as well, after all, the Leaguists let them walk off with Manchuria.”
“The Japanese exited the League in response to the Lytton report,” Papa said, his eyes darkening. “Our government betrayed the League of Nations. There is no doubt about that.”
“Our government hardly betrayed the League by concurring with the report of an independent commission. For God’s sakes, man, for all intents and purposes this country runs the League—so why would our government betray it?”
“To support our interests in Shanghai,” Papa shot back fiercely.
Rachel looked from one man to the other. They were both so angry. How could they be stopped? She knew it would be terribly rude for her to make a comment to Sarah or anyone else just then. And everyone else at the table seemed mesmerized by the debate.
“Rearmament is what we really need,” Elgin said firmly. “Not collective security or pacifism, and certainly not a bunch of conciliatory and cowardly men sitting around a table in Geneva discussing world affairs! Rearmament—and sanctions. We should have used a blockade in the Far East.”
Papa made a scoffing sound. “As if we would ignore the Americans! They would never allow a blockade in a place where their interests are so vast.”
“If we had men of moral fiber leading this country—men who do not ignore the recommendations of our chiefs of staff—Great Britain would reign supreme on land, on sea, and in the air,” Elgin said, slapping his fist on the table.
Rachel jerked at the sound. She glanced around and saw that Sarah was eyeing Harry out of the corner of her eye, while his gaze darted back and forth between Elgin and Papa. At the foot of the table, Ellen seemed frozen with a fork poised over her salad. Lionel was staring at Papa, fascinated.
“Should we choose to back up the League in a real crisis, we will find ourselves in an unnecessary war,” Papa said, flushed now, his voice every bit as raised as Elgin’s.
This was going too far, Rachel thought desperately. She tried to catch Papa’s attention, but he had eyes only for their host.
“Well, lucky for you, we cannot support the League in a real crisis, as we do not have the armaments to do so without a plan of rearmament!” Elgin said.
Papa’s face was so dark that Rachel was afraid he would pound on the table as well—either that or have a heart attack. “I suppose you would support Germany’s domination of Europe as well as Japan’s domination of the Far East?” Papa asked harshly.
Oh, no, Rachel thought. They were not going to debate the subject of Germany now! “Papa?” she whispered.
He did not hear her.
Elgin was speaking. “Germany has many legitimate grievances due to the Treaty of Versailles, which is one reason Hitler rose so quickly to power.”
“Oh, so now you support Hitler? He is a threat to Britain’s security and that of all of Europe!” Papa cried. “Can you not see? Capitalism is in its last throes. Here, finally, is the proof. Hitler has been secretly supported by the city of London these past few years. Otherwise there would not be a fascist state.”
“My God!” Elgin was on his feet. He had paled. “You are a communist!”
Papa stood also. “And if I am?”
“Sarah?” Rachel whispered, scandalized.
The embittered men had Sarah’s full attention finally. She glanced at Rachel, her eyes wide with alarm. Rachel could read her thoughts exactly. She, too, wanted to stop them before they came to blows. And never mind that Sarah’s motives were completely different from Rachel’s.
Elgin was red-faced. He shouted, “National socialism is a far better alternative than communism, my friend. Hitler has saved his country from communists like yourself!”
“That is pro-fascist propaganda, my friend,” Papa said coldly. “Disseminated by both Labour and Conservatives alike, solely with the purpose of denigrating the Communist Party. Perhaps you should don a black shirt and join Mosley’s British union of fascists?”
“Papa!” Rachel cried. “We are guests here!”
“I am hardly a fascist,” Elgin gritted. “I am a Conservative, Greene.”
“Point made,” Papa said coolly.
Elgin and Papa stared at each other like two bulls in the same pen. Would they come to blows?
Rachel was perspiring. How had this evening come to such an end? Then, thankfully, Harry stood and went to his father, touching his sleeve. “Father? It doesn’t matter what he thinks. It will not change anything. And this is a free country. One is allowed to express one’s political opinions—for the most part.” He smiled winningly at Elgin.
Rachel wanted to hug him. He was a wonderful young man! “Papa? Mama would hate this,” Rachel whispered, and as she spoke, tears filled her eyes. “Is this how we treat her memory?”
Papa started. So did Elgin. The two men glanced at her and then at each other. In unison, they sat down, leaving Harry standing. He returned to his seat.
Lady Ellen spoke, her voice high and strained. “How is the guinea hen? You must try that plum sauce!”
Everyone attacked the food. Except for Lionel. He said, “The Blackshirts are marching next Saturday in Cheapside. Anyone care to attend? We can throw tomatoes if you like.”
Rachel felt like kicking him. No one bothered to respond. Rachel thought that she was the very first one to arise the following morning. How could she sleep? The sun was barely casting its glow over the river running through the hills when she went to her bedroom window. The sight was glorious, and it made Rachel smile.
She quickly washed and dressed, then went into Hannah’s room. Her sister was still in bed and barely awake, clutching a rag doll to her chest. “Let’s take a walk before breakfast, sleepyhead,” Rachel said. “We shouldn’t waste one single minute of this weekend holiday!”
Hannah yawned. “I’m too tired to get up,” she said.
“Then I will take a walk. I’ll be back in an hour,” Rachel promised.
Hannah did not reply. She had fallen back asleep.
Rachel knew better than to stop by Sarah’s room. Given the choice, Sarah would always sleep in, and last night she had sat out on the terrace with Harry for an hour or so after supper. Lady Ellen had been their chaperone.
Rachel did not want to disturb Papa, either. He was always up at dawn, except on Shabbat, when he rose an hour or so later. It would be good for him to oversleep, she thought, so she went downstairs by herself, pulling a cardigan on over her skirt and shirt, to ward off the early-morning Welsh chill.
No one was about. The house was absolutely silent. Rachel found herself smiling. Briefly, she wondered what it must be like to be the mistress of such a home.
She slipped outside without seeing even a servant. She would never be the mistress of such a home, and she knew it. One day she would marry someone like Papa, a handsome Jewish boy who made an honest and respectable living. She would marry for love, not money or position. She would have a life very much like the one she now had.
Rachel wandered through the first garden, whi
ch was filled with roses of every imaginable color. The sun was higher now, shining and full, an orange ball. Fingers of apricot drenched the hills and the horizon. The lake was ahead, surrounded by elm trees, cloaked in mist. From a distance it was hard to see, but Rachel thought she could see one of the swans drifting upon the water. She refused to think about the previous day’s episode. Her steps quickened. She would sit out at the lake for a while. She was sorry she hadn’t brought a book to read.
The mist clinging to the lake was beginning to lift. As she approached, one of the swans glided toward her, emerging from the silvery wisps of vapor. As he came closer, his black eyes became visible. They were intent. Rachel wondered if he expected food. She had nothing to give him.
Another swan appeared, approaching. The mist was disappearing. The sun had become yellow and bright. They were such beautiful creatures, Rachel thought. She did not blame Lady Ellen for bringing them here to the north of Wales.
Birds were chirping madly now. As if on cue, the entire lake became drenched in dazzling sunlight. The two swans waited expectantly by the edge of the lake, regarding Rachel.
“Where’s your friend?” she asked, her hands in the pockets of her lilac cardigan. And her gaze lifted.
Her smile vanished. The third swan was at the opposite edge of the lake. Like its two brethren, it was not moving, but Rachel’s heart lurched—something seemed very wrong.
A feeling of dread overcame her. Rachel hurried around the lake, closing the distance between her and the third swan. She realized that the other two swans had lost interest in her and were swimming to the opposite bank.
The third swan wasn’t just still, Rachel realized, it was floating on its side.
She halted abruptly, in disbelief.
It was floating on its side, as though dead.
But that couldn’t be. Rachel broke into a run. As she approached, she realized its face was in the water—it was most definitely dead.
She stopped breathlessly and saw as clearly as if she were a veterinarian that its neck had been ruthlessly twisted and broken.
Rachel sat alone in a small but elegant parlor. She did not move. In fact, she felt afraid to move, as if by doing so she would cause something horrible to happen. Her hands were clasped in her lap. There was a huge, gilded clock in one corner of the room, and it was ticking loudly. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The room—and the house—were so silent, it was as if everyone were in mourning. But then, someone—no, something—had died.
