She looked up at him with enormous frightened eyes and nearly choked, while she said her name in a whisper. “Marianne von Hemmerle. I believe the marchioness of Haversham is expecting me.” Her English and her manners were excellent, but she looked like an orphan, and he felt sorry for her. He took her bags and led her into the main hall, which was a long, dark corridor filled with portraits of their ancestors. It was a gloomy place and freezing cold, as he led her into a small parlor near the front door. And the moment he left her, he went out to the garden to find the marchioness, who was already gardening, which she did most of the time. She was a youthful woman, with a girlish face and prematurely white hair the color of snow, which she was wearing in a long braid down her back. She was wearing an old plaid jacket, yellow gardening boots, and a heavy sweater. The butler bowed politely as soon as he approached her. He seemed much more respectable than she did.
“Ma’am, there’s a young lady to see you. Miss von Hemmerle. She looks as though she’s had a long journey,” he said sympathetically. “She arrived by taxi from the train station, I believe, with two bags. Should I take her upstairs to a room?” He was used to people coming and going at Haversham. The Beaulieus were hospitable, and frequently entertained their friends, their children’s friends, and people they barely knew.
“Oh my Lord!” the marchioness said, as she dropped her gardening tools, and ran toward the morning room door. “Marianne … the poor child … where is she, William?” She turned to him with worried eyes.
“In the front parlor, ma’am, with her bags,” he answered as she rushed past him, and burst into the room where Marianne was sitting with a terrified expression. And as the woman with the long white braid exploded into the room, Marianne stood up, and vaguely remembered meeting her as a child. She was very thin then, very athletic, very British, and very pretty, in a disheveled aristocratic way. And before Marianne could say a word, the woman threw her arms around her and hugged her, and then backed up to observe her and gently stroked the tangled blond hair.
“My poor darling. Did you have a terrible trip?” She was all sympathy and kindness as two big hunting dogs came into the room and wagged their tails, and a Jack Russell followed a minute later, barking at his mistress and their guest.
“Oh, Rupert! Will you stop!” she shouted at the small dog, and went back to fussing over Marianne and insisted that she come to the breakfast room for something to eat and a cup of tea.
“William, please ask Cook for a decent breakfast and a pot of tea,” she said. “I’m sorry, darling, we’ve been on rationing for two months, but she’ll come up with something.” The butler disappeared immediately, as Isabel led Marianne to the morning room, and she sank down next to Isabel on an overstuffed blue velvet couch, and looked around the room. There were bright chintzes and soft colors everywhere, an enormous fireplace, and a wall full of books, and through the windows and open door, Marianne could see gardens and trees and a lake, and the beautiful grounds of the castle. She felt as though she had landed in a dream, someone else’s surely but not her own, as her hostess sat next to her holding her hand and trying to make her feel at home. She had never met anyone with such kind eyes. Everything about her was welcoming and warm, and she punctuated everything she said with giggles and little bursts of laughter and silly jokes, and then scolded the dogs. And as the delicious breakfast came in on an enormous silver tray, Marianne looked at her with wide eyes. The cook had come up with oatmeal, scones, and some jam she’d been saving.
“Thank you for having me. I’m so sorry to come as such a surprise.”
“We were expecting you,” Isabel Beaulieu said with a warm smile. “Now eat, and then I’ll take you up to your bedroom so you can settle in.” As she said it, one of the hunting dogs stole a piece of scone, and Isabel scolded him, and they both laughed. Despite the enormous, daunting castle they lived in, Marianne had never met a kinder, friendlier woman in her life. She was like the mother Marianne had never had and always wished she did. And it wasn’t scary being here at all. “And how is your father? Charles was quite worried about the two of you.”
“He’s fine,” Marianne said between bites, while the dogs stared at her mournfully, hoping for another bit of scone, but Marianne ate it all. She was starving. “He traded a horse to get me out of Germany, a Lipizzaner,” she said, as Isabel looked at her in surprise.
“Well, apparently it worked, and here you are. Charles will be so pleased. We were quite concerned about when you’d arrive. This was a very good time to leave Germany, with that dreadful little man attacking everyone. We’ll put him in his place very quickly. My boys are in the RAF, you know,” she said proudly, as Marianne finished the breakfast and the dogs walked away in disgust. She was embarrassed by how hungry she’d been. She had eaten everything. “Now let’s take you to your room, and you can have a little rest,” Isabel said, as though Marianne had come from London for the weekend. And knowing that she might be there for a long time, and probably would be, she had given her their best guest room.
Marianne followed her up a wide marble staircase, to a room on the floor above, and when Isabel opened the door, Marianne could see an enormous canopied bed with a flowered pink bedspread and beautiful pink satin chairs. It was a room fit for a princess or a queen, and without thinking, Marianne put her arms around Isabel and kissed her cheek and thanked her.
“I’ve always wanted a daughter,” Isabel confessed, and then showed Marianne a handsome white marble bathroom with a huge tub. And a few minutes later, a young Irish maid in a black uniform with a lace apron and cap came to draw a bath for her, and then with a flurry of hugs and promises to see her later and telling her to rest as long as she wanted, she left Marianne alone, as she walked around the beautiful room, and stood staring out the window at the grounds. It was the most impressive place she had ever seen, but as she stood there, and saw swans on the lake, Marianne missed her father and their drafty old schloss. This was magnificent, but it wasn’t home. Isabel was so nice, and everything was perfect, in spite of the war. But as she gazed at the gardens that Isabel was so proud of and worked so hard on, the tears rolled down Marianne’s cheeks, and all she wanted was to go home.
Chapter 19
After lunch with Isabel, on silver trays in the morning room again, and meeting Charles that afternoon, whom she vaguely remembered now, too, Marianne had dinner with them in the enormous dining room, where they sat at one end of a vast table, which Isabel said could seat forty-two. When Marianne went to her room that night, she wrote to her father via his friend in New York, telling him that everything was fine, how beautiful the house was and how nice they were to her, and thanking him for getting her there. She said it cryptically, so the censors wouldn’t get suspicious, and it wouldn’t cause trouble for her father. She then wrote to Toby and told him the truth, that her father had wanted to get her out of Germany, to come to friends of his in England, so she was in exile now too. She said she was in a beautiful place, and the people were really nice to her, but she missed her father and home terribly, even if it was dangerous there. She didn’t mention that soldiers were living in his house, so as not to upset him. But she said she understood now how lonely he must have felt at first, and how hard it must have been to join the circus. She said living with the Beaulieus was nothing like a circus, but she felt like Alice in Wonderland down the rabbit hole. Nothing seemed real to her now, except the war. She told him about traveling through Belgium for a few hours the day before, and how nerve-racking it had been. She asked him to write to her, and told him how homesick she was, which she hadn’t said to her father so as not to worry him or seem ungrateful. But she said she had never felt so out of place in her life. And she mentioned that her hosts, the Beaulieus, had two sons in the RAF, whom they were very proud of, but she hadn’t met them yet. She even told him about the dogs and how her father had traded Favory the stallion for her travel papers. And she asked William the butler to mail both letters for her the next day, and he assured
her he would.
It took her letter a month to reach Toby in New York, at their first stop on tour. Their mail was sent from Sarasota to various stops. And Toby was shocked when he got her letter, to hear that she had left Germany too. He told his father about it, when they were brushing the horses that afternoon, before their evening performance at Madison Square Garden.
“He sent her to England?” Nick was surprised by what Toby told him. Clearly, things were even worse than he thought if Alex had sent Marianne away. He knew Alex wouldn’t have done it otherwise. “Did she say who she’s staying with? People her father knows, or strangers somewhere in the English countryside?” Nick was curious, and he could only imagine how lonely Alex must be without her. He felt sorry for him now too.
“She’s staying in some kind of castle,” Toby said vaguely, “with people called the Beaulieus. They have two sons and a lot of dogs.” He had picked up all the information that seemed pertinent to him, and Nick laughed.
“Oh my God, Charles,” Nick said, recognizing the name immediately. “I went to school with him, although he’s a few years older than I am. They’re lovely people, and Marianne is right. They have an enormous castle. Well, she’ll certainly be comfortable there while she waits out the war. Alex couldn’t have picked better people to send her to. Isabel will love her to death. She’s a sweet woman,” Nick said with a nostalgic smile, thinking of what odd lives they all led now. He and the boys were in the circus, Marianne was in England with their old school friends, and Alex was all alone. Nick was even more worried about him now, knowing how terribly he would miss her. At least he was with his boys, no matter how odd their life was, performing in a circus. And he was happy with Christianna. He had never been as happy in his life. And now that her family knew about him, they had accepted him, and they were very nice to him and the boys. They had dinner with her family often.
Nick got his own letter from Alex a week later, which was cryptic but essentially told the same story. He didn’t mention trading Favory for Marianne’s safe passage out, but Nick guessed accurately that there had been some fancy footwork involved. At least she’d gotten out. Alex said he was still waiting for confirmation from Charles, via New York, but he was hoping she was all right. Nick actually knew of her safe arrival before Alex did, which he knew must be hard on Alex.
And just after he got the letter in April, they heard that Hitler had invaded Norway and Denmark. And the RAF was bombing German ships off the coast of Norway, and German airfields. All-out war was on. And a month later, when the circus was in Pennsylvania, the news was far worse. Hitler had invaded France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg. And five days later, Holland surrendered to the Nazis. Hitler was devouring Europe. And in England, Winston Churchill had become prime minister.
Nick talked about the news sometimes with Christianna. It seemed as though nothing could stop the Nazis, or hadn’t yet, and it was becoming impossible to believe that Europe would recover. And he worried about Alex more than ever, especially now that he was alone. He wondered what he did now, other than care for his horses. Nick’s own life at the circus was full, with his boys, and Christianna, and their rehearsals and performances and traveling on tour. He still hadn’t told Alex about her, and felt guilty about it. And now that Marianne was in England, she and Toby were corresponding more often. It was easier getting letters between the States and England. Alex’s letters to them, and to his daughter, had to go by a far more circuitous route, still via New York, since the United States hadn’t entered the war.
Marianne met Charles and Isabel’s younger son, Simon, in May, two months after she got there. He was twenty-two, flying fighter planes in the RAF, and he had fallen in love with a Canadian army nurse in London, whom he’d met at a party hosted by his squadron, and Isabel said he was crazy about. He was very nice to Marianne when he met her, although he only stayed with his parents for one night, and was anxious to get back to London. He was stationed at Biggin Hill Airfield outside London.
And she met their older son, although only by a year, Edmund, in June when he came to spend a long weekend with them on leave. He was an RAF pilot, too, and flew Wellingtons, on special missions. He had already run reconnaissance missions over top secret targets in Germany seven times. Isabel worried constantly about his missions. She treated them all like children, and Edmund and Marianne laughed about it one afternoon when he invited her to take a walk on the grounds. He looked like his father, but he had the kindness and easy laughter of his mother, and he asked Marianne if she was very lonely there. She never said it to his mother, but she still was. And homesick for her father.
“It’s not home for you, after all. And we must all seem very strange. This isn’t your house, or your language, or your country. It’s quite normal to be homesick,” he said sympathetically. “And this is such a big, drafty old place,” he said, referring to the remarkable castle he’d grown up in.
“I feel so guilty when I get sad,” she admitted. He was easy to talk to, and strikingly handsome. He had dark hair and green eyes, and he looked very dashing in his uniform. He treated her like a friend, and she had fun doing things with him when he was home for the weekend. He took her fishing at a nearby lake, and walking on the moors, and he taught her to milk a cow on one of their farms, which she had never done on their own. Their lives had been similar growing up, except that his home was far grander than hers. But he was simple and unpretentious and down to earth, and she liked that about him. He reminded her a little of Toby, except that he was four years older than she was, instead of two years younger, and he treated her like a little kid most of the time.
“I’m nineteen!” she complained to him. “Not twelve!” He even raced her down the main alley in their garden after they made a bet as to who could run faster. “You cheated!” she accused him, laughing and out of breath.
“I did not!” And then he got her lost in their maze, and she threatened his life if he didn’t get her out of it after an hour in the sun, and he finally took mercy on her and showed her the way out. They enjoyed each other like two children while he was there, and Isabel commented to Charles again what a good girl she was, and how much Edmund was enjoying her. She thought that Marianne was a good stress reliever for him after the tension of his missions. And Isabel was happy to see him so relaxed, and Marianne looking happier at last. She’d been sad ever since she’d arrived.
“She’s not a girl, Izzie,” her husband corrected her. “She’s a woman, and a very pretty one at that. Our son’s not blind, you know. I’m sure he’s noticed it too.”
“I don’t think so,” she said innocently. “They’ve been playing like children for two days.” It had done them both good. By the end of the weekend, Marianne wasn’t as homesick and Edmund had gotten a breather from his flying missions over Germany. Marianne was sad to see him leave on Sunday afternoon.
“Who am I going to play with when you leave?” she said mournfully when he came to say goodbye. He was wearing his uniform again, and looked much more grown up than he had while playing on the grounds with her. She liked him better as a playmate than all dressed up.
“You’ll have to entertain yourself, I’m afraid,” he said with a boyish smile. “Or chase the dogs around the lake. You can milk the cows again, if you like.” But none of it would be as much fun without him. They had an easy time being together, and had had a few serious conversations about the war. He was touched that she had grown up without a mother, and seemed very normal in spite of it. And they had gone riding one morning, and he was impressed by what a skilled horsewoman she was. He didn’t admit it to her, but she rode better than he did.
He promised to come back the next time he was on leave, and the house seemed too quiet without him after he left. Marianne said as much to Isabel, who regaled her with stories of all the mischief her boys had gotten into when they were young. She agreed that the house was awfully serious and sedate without their antics.
In the days after Edmund’s visit, I
taly entered the war against Britain and France. And France fell to the Germans. Marianne was grateful that she had left Germany when she did. She couldn’t have gotten out now through Belgium, since it was occupied. And she doubted that the colonel would have given her safe passage, even in exchange for a Lipizzaner stallion. Her father had written to her that the colonel now rode all over the county on Favory, which always made him smile, and made him think of her.
And Isabel said frequently that she hated to think of Paris in the hands of the Germans, it was such a beautiful city. And by the end of June, there were photographs in the press of Hitler touring Paris, which enraged her even further. And General de Gaulle was recognized as the leader of the Free French Forces, as opposed to Marshal Pétain, who led the Vichy government, whom Isabel considered traitors for handing over France so easily to the Germans. At least de Gaulle was willing to put up a fight and was organizing the Free French from London.
Isabel, Charles, and Marianne were hoping that the boys would come home again in July, but the Battle of Britain began, and they were too busy flying retaliatory missions and never got leave. And a month later in August, the Germans started bombing airfields, and there were daytime raids and bombing missions over England, and toward the end of August, for the first time, the Luftwaffe bombed central London. Simon called home afterward, and with strong emotion in his voice, he told his mother that the young nurse he’d been seeing had been killed. He sounded devastated, and Isabel was very sorry for him.
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