by CW Browning
“How is your father, Evelyn?” Claude asked, setting his newspaper aside. “Where’s he off to now?”
“Vienna.” Evelyn carried a plate with a pastry and some fruit over to the table and set it down before returning to pour herself a cup of coffee. “And then he’s going on to Prague.”
“Oh Vienna,” Adele said with a smile. “I haven’t been in so long. I wonder if it’s still the same?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Gisele asked.
“Well, I’ve heard that the Nazis—” her mother began, then stopped abruptly, casting Evelyn a quick look. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure it’s perfectly fine.”
Evelyn’s lips tightened slightly but she made no comment, turning her attention to her breakfast resolutely.
“What are your plans for today, Evelyn?” Claude asked, speaking over the sudden silence at the table smoothly.
“Papa asked me to take something to a friend of his in Neuilly-sur-Seine. He didn’t have time before his train left.” Evelyn glanced at her cousin. “Can I borrow your car, Gisele?”
“Of course,” she answered cheerfully. “It may need petrol.”
“Thank you. I’ll take care of it. Tante, I’m not sure if I’ll be back for lunch, so don’t worry if you don’t see me.”
“Will you be all right driving out there alone?” she asked, her brows creasing faintly. “Perhaps Nicolas should go with you?”
Evelyn laughed and shook her head. “I’ll be perfectly fine, Tante. Don’t worry about me.”
Evelyn drove up a long, curving driveway that led to the large château William Buckley made his residence while he was in France. His wife was a Frenchwoman of no little social standing and the property had been in her family for generations. Evelyn remembered the couple well from their visit last Christmas. Her mother had been thrilled to have a fellow Frenchwoman to discuss her homeland with. Evelyn remembered the woman as being very friendly and sweet, and her husband as a jovial man who was a tremendously good shot with a rifle.
She looked to the left at a wide, endless expanse of lawn and inhaled deeply. While she loved Paris, Evelyn was a country girl at heart. She missed the wide open spaces of her home in Lancashire. Breathing in the fresh, clean air now and smelling the wonderful scent of beech trees, Evelyn felt a pang of longing for home. Stifling a sigh, she turned her attention back to the long driveway.
A moment later, the large house came into view. It was an old, sprawling, square structure that stood tall above the perfectly landscaped gardens as it had for over a hundred years. Impressive with its clean lines and long, elegant windows, the château was everything that Evelyn expected from the wealthy Paris suburb. She followed the driveway as it curved before the front door with its dual pillars and wide, shallow stone steps. As she pulled to a stop just past the steps, the large front door swung open and an older servant dressed in the uniform of a butler, or majordome as they were called in France, emerged.
Switching off the motor, Evelyn untied the scarf that covered her hair, protecting it from the wind that had whipped in through the open window as she drove from the city. She tossed it onto the seat next to her and picked up her shoulder bag and the sealed, leather pouch that her father had handed her the night before.
A footman appeared next to the car and opened the door, holding it open so she could climb out of the low sports car. She nodded to him in thanks, turning towards the wide steps leading to the front door. The sun shone brightly, warming the top of her head and glinting off the smooth, worn stone as she walked up the steps to the waiting butler.
“Mademoiselle Ainsworth?” he asked.
Evelyn nodded. “Yes.”
“Monsieur Buckley is expecting you,” he told her, standing aside so that she could enter the large, marble entryway.
Evelyn stepped into the cool house and looked around the wide, square hallway. The columns from the outside were mirrored within, adorning the walls and stretching to the high, ornate ceiling.
“This way, Mademoiselle,” he said, moving across the large expanse of floor to a door on the far side.
Evelyn followed him, glancing towards the wide, circular staircase sweeping up to the second floor. About halfway up the steps, a white cat sat watching her with unblinking green eyes. Resisting the urge to stop and try to coax the feline to her, she turned her attention back to the rigid, straight back of the servant. She followed him through the door and into a bright and sunny morning room. The room was empty but two doors with glass panes opened onto a stone-flagged patio at the back. He led her to the open doors and stepped outside, clearing his throat.
“Mademoiselle Ainsworth,” he announced.
The couple seated at a wrought iron table looked up at his announcement and she smiled at them.
“Bonjour!” she greeted them cheerfully.
“Evelyn, my dear!” Marguerite Buckley stood up and moved forward with her hands stretched out. “How lovely to see you again!”
She spoke in accented English and Evelyn grasped her hands, allowing the air next to her cheek to be kissed.
“Please, speak French if it’s more comfortable for you,” Evelyn beseeched in French.
Marguerite smiled and linked her arm through Evelyn’s, leading her to the table where William was standing, waiting for them with a big smile on his face.
“Your accent is perfect,” she commended her, switching back to her native language. “How are you enjoying Paris?”
“Very much,” Evelyn replied. “I’m having a wonderful time!”
“How long have you been here?” William asked as they drew up to the table.
“Four weeks now.” She held out the leather pouch. “My father asked me to deliver this, and he sends his apologies that he was unable to bring it personally.”
“I completely understand,” William said, taking the pouch. “I appreciate you taking the time to drive out here with it. You’ll stay to lunch, of course.”
“Yes, we would love to visit with you,” Marguerite agreed, seating herself again. “Please, have a seat.”
“If you’ll both excuse me, I must go and take care of this,” William said with a smile as Evelyn sank into a chair.
“Of course, dear.” Marguerite turned her clear, green eyes onto Evelyn as her husband moved across the patio and disappeared into the house. “How is your mother? You must tell me all the latest news from England! We haven’t been back in ages, it seems.”
“Mum is doing well,” Evelyn told her, sitting back in her chair comfortably. “I had a letter from her the other day. My brother is home for a few weeks, so she is enjoying his company.”
“Now, your brother is, or was, up at Oxford, correct?”
“He was, yes, but he’s finished his courses now. My father told me last night that he’s joined the RAF Auxillary flyers.”
“Has he really? How very exciting. Does he know how to fly?”
“Yes, he’s been flying with a club near Oxford for the past few years. I suppose it was only to be expected that he would want to join the RAF.” Evelyn paused, then smiled resolutely. “I’m terribly jealous, of course. It must be great fun to fly!”
Marguerite laughed. “I completely agree. Do you know, there is a young woman I met at a dinner party last week who learned to fly last year. She said it’s absolutely wonderful. She’s a bit of a daredevil, I believe. There was some mention that she spent some time in Singapore.”
“That makes her a daredevil?” Evelyn was amused. “I must be as well, then. I spent a few years in Hong Kong.”
“Yes, but you were with your family, dear.” Marguerite leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “She went with her husband, but they divorced. She was there alone for almost a year.”
“What was she doing?”
“To hear her tell it, she was going to parties and enjoying being a free woman,” Marguerite said with laugh. “She returned last year, but she claims she still misses the excitement and thrill of Singapore
. And you? Do you miss Hong Kong?”
The question caught Evelyn off guard and she hesitated, remembering her Sifu and the other students in her school. If there was one thing she did regret, it was leaving her teacher and the ways of the Wing Chun behind.
“I think I do,” she said slowly, thoughtfully. “I was very happy to return to England, but Hong Kong had become my home in many ways.”
“Would you go back?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t be opposed, if the opportunity arose in the future. However, right now it’s become very unstable. It was, perhaps, a good thing that my father was sent back to England when he was.”
“Oh, you mean because of the Japanese?” Marguerite nodded wisely. “Yes, indeed. Between them and the Italians and, of course the Germans, it seems as if the whole world is spinning out of control.”
“The world is always spinning out of control, Marguerite,” William said, stepping out from the house. “There is nothing new in that. It’s simply the faces behind the politics that have changed.”
Evelyn looked up, holding a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun as she watched her host cross the patio.
“That’s very similar to what my father says,” she said with a smile. “He’s not quite that polite about it, though.”
William threw his head back and laughed.
“Neither am I when I’m not entertaining lovely young women,” he said. “I believe lunch is ready, my dear. Francois stopped me on my way back from the study. I told him I would relay the message.”
Marguerite stood up fluidly and looked at Evelyn.
“I’m so glad to have you stay for lunch,” she said candidly. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you, and I’d like to get to know you better.”
Evelyn stood with an easy smile.
“Thank you for asking me!”
“William, Evelyn tells me that her brother has joined the RAF Auxiliary Air Force,” Marguerite said, reaching for a glass of wine.
“Has he indeed?” he asked, looking at Evelyn across the table. “Do you know what he’s flying?”
Evelyn looked up from her plate of chicken poached in a white wine sauce.
“My father said that he’s flying fighter planes,” she said. “He’s been flying for a few years now. He flew with a club near Oxford, then apparently joined the RAF Auxiliary a few months ago.”
“Well, the RAF will need every pilot they can get soon,” William said soberly, turning his attention back to his lunch. “Even though Chamberlain is committed to his policy of appeasement, in all honesty, I don’t think it will work.”
“There are many who think it will,” Evelyn said, reaching for her glass of wine. “Hitler has said time and again that he wants only peace for Germany.”
William shot her a look under dark brows. “And do you believe him?”
There was no indication in his tone or expression that he was trying to patronize her. Instead, Evelyn got the distinct impression that he was curious to hear her response.
“May I speak frankly?”
Marguerite reached for the platter of bread in the center of the table.
“My dear, if you were not to speak frankly, I’m afraid William would be very much upset,” she said humorously. “Your father is a very close friend of ours, and I like to think your mother is as well. Please don’t stand on ceremony here.”
“Very well,” Evelyn said with a smile. She turned her gaze back to William. “No. I don’t believe that Hitler wants only peace for Germany.” She paused thoughtfully, a frown creasing her brow, and then she shook her head. “Or perhaps I should say that I believe his vision of peace for Germany is not the same as what the rest of Europe’s vision may be.”
William raised one eyebrow in surprise and set his fork down, giving her his full attention.
“Now that’s very interesting,” he said. “Why do you think that?”
“If he truly wanted peace, and only peace, for Germany, then he would not have insisted on marching into Austria and proclaiming Anschluss.” She accepted the platter of bread from Marguerite and selected a thick slice of baguette, setting it on her plate and reaching for the cheese. “When he reinstated conscription, the argument could be made, and was made, that Germany needed an army for her own defense. Similarly, when he took back the Rhineland, that was German land to begin with. It was only fair for them to take it back and use it for defense. Both of those support his claim that he wants peace for Germany. Austria, however, isn’t the same thing at all.”
“But I thought the Austrian government invited Hitler in?” Marguerite said, looking up from her bread and cheese. “They wanted to become part of the Reich. Is that not so?”
“I don’t think it was as straightforward as all that, my dear,” William murmured. “It would be much easier if it was.”
“No, but Hitler went out of his way to make sure that’s what everyone believes,” Evelyn said. “My father thinks that Chancellor Schuschnigg was forced into signing the agreement, and that’s probably so. The truth is, Hitler believes that his Third Reich is composed of members of a superior race, and that they are, or will become, the master race. The only way for him to accomplish that is for Germany to spread throughout Europe.”
The look she received from William was sharp, and very guarded.
“That’s a strange term,” he said. “Master race? Where did you hear that?”
Evelyn felt her cheeks grow warm and had the grace to look at him sheepishly.
“I read his book.”
“His book?” Marguerite repeated. “Hitler wrote a book?”
“Yes,” William said. “It was published in the 20s, I believe. Not many remember it outside of Germany, much less ever read it. It wasn’t considered a literary triumph. Wherever did you find it?”
“My father asked me that same thing,” Evelyn said with a laugh. “I found a copy in a library in Switzerland last year.”
“And you read it? The whole thing?”
“Yes.”
“Was it any good?” Marguerite asked. “Should I try to find it?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it, Mme. Buckley,” Evelyn said. “At times, it’s very difficult reading. However, I can see many things he laid out in that book starting to happen in Germany and Austria.”
“I’m amazed that we haven’t heard of it,” Marguerite said. “You would think it would be all the rage. After all, he’s a very popular fellow now. Look at all the good he’s done for Germany in just a few short years. Why, their economy is doing far better than our own!”
“Much of that is coming on the back of the rise in their infrastructure, and on his increased military production,” William said. “But he has done wonders for that country. Who would’ve thought the little corporal would have such a great economic mind.”
“Germany does seem to be recovering from the depression very well,” Evelyn admitted. “I fully understand why there are many who want to duplicate his methods throughout Europe.”
“And yet, you do not believe he wants peace,” William said, shooting her another look from beneath his eyebrows.
She shook her head slowly.
“No, I do not. I think he’s just getting started.”
Marguerite looked from her husband to Evelyn, her customary good humor failing.
“If that’s the case, then William is right. The RAF will need every pilot they can get,” she said, “as will France. I don’t see how we can possibly fight another war, though. We still haven’t fully recovered from the last one.”
William glanced at his wife and smiled reassuringly.
“That’s why our leaders are doing everything they can to keep the Führer happy,” he said. “If Chamberlain’s appeasement strategy works, then another war will be averted. If it doesn’t, well, then perhaps it will have bought us enough time to prepare.”
“The problem is we have no idea what’s going on in Germany,” Evelyn said. “As far as I can tell, no one know
s how big Hitler’s army has become. Or his Navy, for that matter.”
“He’s staging a naval review in Kiel this month,” William said. “That will give us an idea at least of his naval strength.”
“But didn’t you just say the other night that he doesn’t reveal everything at those things?” Marguerite asked.
He made a face. “Well, yes. There is some talk that he is not completely transparent regarding how much his military has grown since they began rearming.”
“Surely there must be some way to find out,” Evelyn said. “I mean, something must be done! He cannot be allowed to continue gobbling up land. If he’s left unchecked, Germany will become a near unstoppable force.”
William looked at her thoughtfully for a moment.
“There’s quite a bit that can be done,” he said, “and believe me, both England and France are trying to learn his secrets.”
“Thank you again for a wonderful lunch,” Evelyn said, kissing Marguerite on the cheek in farewell. “I had a lovely time.”
“Oh, you are always welcome, ma chère,” she smiled, embracing her briefly. “Please send your mother my regards the next time you write.”
“Of course.”
Evelyn turned to William and held out her hand, but he shook his head.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said congenially. “Did you drive yourself?”
“Yes. I borrowed my cousin Gisele’s car.” She turned and smiled at Marguerite. “Good-bye!”
“Au revoir! Safe travels!”
William walked across the entry hall with her, towards the front door. The butler who had shown her in earlier, appeared mysteriously from a back hallway and William waved him away.
“It’s quite alright, Francois,” he said. “I’m showing Mademoiselle Ainsworth to her car.”
“Very good, sir.”
William reached out to open the door, holding it for her to pass through.
“When we visited you last Christmas, I remember you driving down to London,” he said conversationally, stepping outside with her. “Your mother was shocked when your brother revealed your speed.”
