The words, innocently spoken, triggered immediate panic in Connie.
“Colonel von Wehndorf …”
“Please, we’re all friends here, call me Falk—if I may call you Constance?”
“Of course.” Connie gave what she hoped was her most enchanting smile. “He has not been hiding me, I merely live down in the south and find the journey to Paris arduous.”
“Where in the south does your family live?”
But Édouard was already introducing her to the next man, who was clad in the uniform of the SS—the German State Police.
“Excuse me.” Connie lowered her eyes from Falk and turned her attention to Kommandant Choltitz.
“À bientôt, Fräulein Constance,” she heard Falk say softly behind her.
A glass of champagne was thrust into her hand by Édouard as she met another three German officers and a high-ranking official from the French Milice. She was then introduced to two Frenchmen, one a lawyer and the other a professor, whose wife, Lilian, was the only other woman present. Nerves jangling, Connie took a hefty gulp of her champagne and prayed Édouard would have the foresight to place her at the table next to the safety of her fellow countrymen.
“Mesdames et messieurs, please, pass through to the dining room. I will go to collect my sister,” said Édouard, leading the way to the drawing-room door.
Sandwiching herself as subtly as she could between the French professor and his wife, Connie walked through to the dining room. Sarah indicated her place at the table. She sat down, relieved to see the professor was on one side of her and the lawyer, standing behind a chair, on the other. Then Sarah moved swiftly toward the lawyer, just as he was about to take his seat. She whispered something in his ear, and the lawyer moved off immediately to the other side of the table. Connie found Falk von Wehndorf, the German Gestapo officer, suddenly next to her.
“Fräulein Constance, I hope it will not offend you that I asked to be next to you for dinner tonight,” he said with a smile. “It’s not often I have the pleasure of such a beautiful woman as a table companion. Now, we must have more champagne.” Falk signaled to Sarah, who hurried forward with the bottle as Édouard entered the dining room.
On his arm was a beautiful young woman: Sophia, Connie remembered, Édouard’s sister. Tiny, almost doll-like in her perfection, Sophia was wearing a midnight-blue evening dress that accentuated the creaminess of her unblemished skin and piercing turquoise eyes. Her blond hair was coiled into a chignon, her swanlike neck adorned with a necklace of blue sapphires.
As Édouard guided her to the table, Connie noticed Sophia’s arms reach out and search for the chair, her delicate fingers tracing the wooden back of it. Sitting down, she smiled at the assembled company.
“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to welcome all of you here again to our home.”
She spoke in a low, musical voice, with the impeccable French of the aristocracy.
Many of the assembled company muttered an affectionate greeting to her in return.
“And, Cousin Constance … Édouard tells me you have finally arrived safely with us.” Sophia’s turquoise eyes did not turn toward Connie as she said this.
“Yes, and I’m glad to see you looking so well,” Connie answered blandly.
Sophia’s blank gaze turned in the direction of Connie’s voice and she offered Connie a dazzling smile. “And we will have much to catch up on, I’m sure.”
Connie watched as Sophia’s neighbor engaged her in conversation. Yet still her eyes did not focus on his face as she talked to him.
With a sudden jolt, Connie realized that Sophia de la Martinières was blind.
Connie saw Édouard’s eyes flick toward her and Falk von Wehndorf, registering the alteration of the table plan. Édouard himself sat on the opposite side of the table to Constance, surrounded by the Germans.
“First, a toast. This dinner is held in honor of the thirty-fifth birthday of our guest and friend Falk von Wehndorf.” The table held their glasses in readiness. “To you, Falk.”
“To Falk!” came the chorus of voices.
Falk gave a mock bow. “And to our host, Comte Édouard de la Martinières, for throwing this party. And it seems,” Falk said, glancing sideways at Connie, “that he has also provided me with an unexpected birthday present. To Fräulein Constance, who joins us tonight from the south for this occasion.”
Connie held her nerve as every eye at the table fell upon her. Never had she imagined that her arrival in Paris would be toasted by a group of Nazi officers. She took a sip of champagne, knowing she must keep her wits about her and drink no more. She was grateful as Sarah began to serve the first course and the attention in the room slipped away from her.
• • •
In the future, when Connie looked back to her first evening in Occupied Paris, she was convinced that someone had been watching over her. The professor on her left lectured at the Sorbonne, and so she was able, in front of the persistent attention of Falk, to give a true and honest account of her time there. The conversation gave credence to her cover, and she noticed Édouard’s approving eyes upon her as she managed to circumnavigate questions from Falk and use her charm to divert him with smiles and glances.
At the end of the evening, as the German officers were leaving, Falk again took her hand and kissed it. “Fräulein, I have enjoyed your company very much this evening. I have learned that not only are you beautiful, but clever.” He nodded approvingly. “And I like clever women. How long are you in Paris?”
“I’ve taken no decision,” she answered honestly.
“Constance will be staying with us for as long as she pleases.” Édouard came to the rescue as he ushered the men to the door and said good night himself.
“Then I hope it will be my pleasure to see you again. And very soon. Heil Hitler!” With a last glance at her from his pale blue eyes, Falk followed the other men out the front door. It shut behind them and Édouard himself locked and bolted it.
Standing in the hall, her ordeal over, Connie felt all the energy drain from her body. Her legs turned to jelly and she staggered suddenly. Édouard was there to catch her and put a comforting arm around her shoulder.
“Come, Constance,” he said as he steered her toward the back of the house, “you must be exhausted. We’ll take a brandy before bed.” He signaled to Sarah, who was hovering in the corridor. “Please bring a tray into the sitting room.”
Connie sat down gratefully on the sofa, so tired she felt catatonic. Édouard surveyed her for a while as Sarah brought in the tray of brandy. Once his glass had been filled and Sarah had left the room, he lifted it toward her. “Congratulations, Constance. You were magnificent tonight.” She saw him smile properly for the first time, his handsome face suddenly alive.
“Thank you,” she said weakly as she garnered the energy to lift the brandy glass to her lips.
“Perhaps all there is to say is”—Édouard smiled again—“welcome to our family.”
They both chuckled at his remark. And as the dreadful tension of the evening released itself, they laughed until they wept at the coup they had pulled off.
“Ah, Constance, you cannot know the shock when you appeared on the doorstep. I thought all was lost. A house full of high-ranking Milice, Gestapo, and Abwehr officers, and a lost SOE agent appears here in full view of them all to see me!”
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw their uniforms in the drawing room.” Connie shook her head in horror at the memory.
“We’ll talk tomorrow about how this happened,” said Édouard. “But for now, I can only extend my grateful thanks to you for rising to the challenge and giving a spectacular performance. Of course, God was on our side tonight in many things. Your background made it easy for everyone to believe you’re a member of our family.”
“On the SOE training course”—Connie giggled—“I was warned time and again that I spoke French in a way that would mark me out as bourgeoise. It would not be suitable for my cover as a schoo
lteacher from Paris. They said I betrayed too many airs and graces, and I did all I could to remove them.”
“Well, your background came to our rescue tonight. And it seems you have an admirer.” Édouard’s face became suddenly taut. “He’s one of the few Nazis I know who comes from an aristocratic family himself. But don’t be lulled into a false sense of security by him. Falk von Wehndorf is one of the most lethal and deadly men of all those currently running Paris. He’s merciless when it comes to exposing the traitors to the Nazi cause. It was he who was mainly responsible for rounding up many of the members of the network you came here to join.”
A shiver ran down Connie’s spine. “I see,” she said grimly. “He’s certainly well educated and seems to love France.”
“He appreciates the history, culture, and elegance of our country, but covets it for himself and his motherland. That makes him even more dangerous. He also, as we both saw tonight”—Édouard raised his eyebrows—“appreciates our women. And if he desires you … well, we’ll talk of the future tomorrow.” Édouard put his glass down, stood up, and walked over to her, patting her shoulder. “All you need to know for tonight is that you’re safe in Paris with us and can sleep peacefully and well in that knowledge.” Édouard offered his elbow. “Shall we retire?”
“Yes.” Connie stifled a yawn as she stood. They walked along the corridor and upstairs to the landing.
“Good night, Cousin Constance.” Édouard smiled.
“Good night, Édouard.”
Having divested herself of her jewelry and clothes, Connie climbed into the large, comfortable bed. A wave of exhaustion washed over her and she fell deeply and gratefully asleep.
• • •
She awoke with a jump the following morning, disoriented for a moment as she looked around the room. Remembering where she was, Connie lay back on the soft pillows with a sigh. Checking the time on her watch, she saw that it was past ten o’clock. She put her hand to her mouth in dismay. Never in her life had she slept in this late. Climbing out of bed, she opened her suitcase and donned the plain blouse and skirt that had been deemed suitable by F Section as part of her schoolteacher wardrobe. Tidying her hair hastily in the mirror, she went downstairs to find Édouard or Sophia.
“The comte is in his library, madame,” said Sarah, catching her along the hall. “He said for you to join him there when you awoke. Can I bring you some breakfast on a tray?”
“Just coffee would be wonderful, thank you,” said Connie, her stomach still full from the sumptuous dinner of the night before. Ration coupons were obviously not a requirement in this house. She followed Sarah to a door, knocked, and entered.
Édouard was sitting in a comfortable leather chair in the library, which was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. He looked up from his newspaper as she came in.
“Good morning, Constance, please take a seat.” He indicated a chair on the other side of the fireplace.
“Thank you,” she said, sitting down. “What a wonderful collection of books you have in here.” She glanced admiringly at the shelves.
“Inherited from my father, but my passion too. I intend to extend it, if I can. So many thousands of books have been burned across Europe by the Nazis, this collection is even more precious than it was.” Édouard gave a deep sigh and roused himself. Connie could see he looked drained and serious this morning, with none of the ebullience of last night. Studying him in daylight and seeing the fine lines on his face, she guessed he must be in his midthirties.
“So, Constance, I would like you to tell me in detail the circumstances which led up to you knocking at my front door last night.”
Connie explained how the courier she was meant to meet at Montparnasse station had not materialized and how she had gone to the address that Stefan had given her on the Rue de Rennes.
“Do you know if you were seen entering the building?” Édouard’s eyes filled with alarm.
“I checked very carefully, as Stefan had told me to, and I saw no one in uniform nearby. As I was about to leave, a woman from the next-door apartment told me the Gestapo had been to number seventeen and arrested its occupants. She told me to use the back entrance on the way out.”
“Did she see your face?”
“If she did, it was only for a few seconds.”
“Then let us pray she is trustworthy,” breathed Édouard. “Well, Constance, you seem to have the luck of the blessed on your side so far. Apartment seventeen was one of the main safe houses for the Scientist network. As the neighbor confirmed, it was raided by the Gestapo the night before you arrived here. And they’re still continuing to round up subcircuits and make arrests. It’s almost certain that the apartment would still have been under surveillance when you arrived. They would be there waiting to catch agents who hadn’t yet heard of the German raid. So”—he sighed—“we can only hope you were not noticed because you were a new face and hadn’t been seen entering the apartment before. Perhaps they assumed you were simply a friend of another resident living at the address.”
“Stefan said I was the only one he could send to Paris because I was unknown and would not be on any Gestapo lists.”
“He’s right. At least that’s something.” Édouard stroked his chin thoughtfully as Sarah delivered coffee and biscuits for both of them. “I should point out to you that you were lucky to have Stefan as part of your reception committee. He’s a highly trained member of the Maquis, whom your agents support in the field. He knows me through channels other than your organization. Understanding there were difficulties in Paris, he gave my name as a last resort. The problem is …”
“Yes?” Connie was struggling to understand where Édouard fitted in.
“Because of my”—Édouard searched for the right word—“position, any link to the SOE or the Resistance movement must not be discovered. I cannot tell you how vital this is. And, of course, here you are, the link the Germans need: a British SOE agent sitting with me in my library and drinking coffee.”
“I really am most terribly sorry to have caused all this trouble, Édouard.”
“Constance, please, I don’t blame you. Stefan needed to send somebody to Paris to find out how serious and far-reaching the situation was. And I can assure you that it’s even worse than he thought.”
“Stefan asked me to report back to London on the situation as soon as possible.”
“That will not be necessary. I don’t work for the British government, but those at the very top of their intelligence services are known to me and we exchange information. I’ve already contacted London this morning to alert them to what’s happened. Stefan will receive word very soon. Both Prosper, the head of the Scientist network, and his radio operator are under arrest. All other members of Scientist have fled Paris if they could or are in hiding somewhere in the city until further notice. My dear Constance, at present, there’s simply no network here to join.”
“Then surely I must be moved out of Paris to another network?”
“Under normal circumstances, that is what would happen, yes. However, through pure coincidence, last night you met some of the most powerful Germans in Paris.” Édouard put down his coffee cup and leaned toward her. “Just imagine this, Constance: you’re moved to another network and successfully begin to carry out the mission you’ve been trained for. Then, pouf!” He gesticulated. “You’re arrested and brought in for questioning here at Gestapo headquarters. And then, another coincidence occurs: one of the men you met last night, say Colonel Falk, walks in to interrogate you. And who does he see sitting there, bound to a chair? Why, none other than his good friend the Comte de la Martinières’s cousin, Constance, whom Falk met a few weeks ago in his dining room. So what does he think to himself? Does he imagine his friend Édouard does not know of his cousin’s activities? Perhaps, at the very least, he would start to take a keener interest in the comte, look at the other French guests sitting around the table, and perhaps start to question whether they really are the true and loyal supp
orters of the Vichy and German governments they claim to be.”
“Yes, I see, but what’s the solution? And who do you work with, Édouard?”
“Constance, you don’t need to know,” he answered immediately. “It is indeed better that you don’t. But all I do lies with freeing my homeland from the grasp of the Nazi regime; and the puppet Vichy government run by our weak countrymen who agree to everything the Germans say to save their own skins. I’ve spent the past four years managing to gain their trust. My wealth, combined with their greed, make it sickening, but possible. Never forget what it takes for me to do this, Constance. Every time one of their kind walks over my threshold, I want to take out my gun and shoot him.”
Connie saw Édouard’s features were contorted, hands clasped tightly together, his knuckles white.
“But, instead, I invite them into my home, I feed them the finest wine from our cellars, spend money on the black market sourcing the best meat and cheese to fill their mouths, and make polite conversation with them. Why, you ask? How can I do this?”
Connie remained silent; she knew he did not require an answer from her.
“I do it because, very occasionally, after too much brandy, I will hear a small titbit of information carelessly dropped from drunken German lips. And, sometimes, that piece of information allows me to alert those in danger and perhaps save the lives of my countrymen. And for that, yes, I will bear their presence at my table.”
Connie sat in silence, understanding now.
“So you see,” Édouard said, “there must never be a hint of my involvement with any of the organizations the Nazis are desperate to quash. It would not only result in the deaths of the many brave men and women who work with me, but endanger the valuable information which I’m able to relay to those who need it most. It’s not so much for my own life I worry, Constance, but that, for example, of Sophia. Living here in this house with me makes it impossible for her not to be a part of my deception. And culpable, if I was discovered. So …” Édouard stood up suddenly, walked to the window, and looked out at the sunshine bathing the pretty garden beyond. “For all these reasons, I’m afraid it’s impossible for you to continue your career as a British agent.”
The Lavender Garden Page 12
