“I do!” He was horrified.
“Good, so do I.” And with that she gave him the vase of flowers to carry into the hall and put on the table next to the wall.
* * *
—
Charles Standish was Lucas and Josephine’s only child. He was handsome in a traditional way: regular features, fine dark eyes, and a charming smile. But he had not inherited either Lucas’s high intellect or Josephine’s imagination or wit. Somewhere, unspoken, was his awareness of it.
But he had had an excellent education, and he maintained a sincerity that drew many people to trust him, a conviction he had never betrayed. He had a remarkable memory, especially for people, their names, their occupations, and very often their vulnerabilities, which he did not abuse. That must have taken some skill in the Foreign Office. He had been as successful as an ambassador could be in the highly dangerous and constantly shifting world of post-war Europe, now lurching yet again toward violent change: Hitler in Germany, Mussolini in Italy, and the dark shadow of communism spreading in from the east like a storm on the horizon.
It was Katherine Standish, Charles’s wife, who welcomed Lucas and Josephine at the door. She was undoubtedly Charles’s greatest asset. She was American, but she had become international in the best way: at ease with everyone, and without the imperial baggage that hampered many of the British. Whether she was beautiful was a matter of taste. She was a little lean, even angular, but she knew how to dress to flatter and charm, and above all to be individual. This evening she wore a silk crepe de chine dress of white with casual black splashes. It was crossed at the front, giving it some unaccountable fullness toward the hem, which fell well below her knees. Lucas knew at a glance that it was expensive, but she wore it with an ease that would have made anything look classic.
“Come in,” she said with a wide smile, standing back to allow them past her. She kissed Josephine lightly on the cheek, then Lucas.
Charles met them in the withdrawing room, which was very formal and only redeemed in its comfort by the well-worn leather of the armchairs beside the fire. He offered them drinks. He had his father’s favorite sherry and the lighter, drier one that Josephine preferred.
The other person in the room was Margot, Elena’s elder sister. She was as dark as her father and as elegant as her mother, with the same spare figure and extraordinary grace. She wore a flame-red dress cut on the bias to fall in a cascade of silk from the hips.
“Grandmother.” She gave Josephine an uninhibited hug and, a moment later, a hug of the same warmth to Lucas. That was new. After the Berlin episode, she, too, had learned of Lucas’s position during the war, since events had made it impossible to exclude his family any longer. It had broken the brittle barrier between them of secrecy, blame, and grief over losses both universal and uniquely individual.
They exchanged news and spoke of small, comfortable things. Katherine was an excellent cook, although she had domestic help tonight so she could enjoy the company. When the chef informed Katherine that dinner was served, they went through to the dining room, with its formal dark blue velvet curtains and starkly beautiful photographs of bridges, symbols of other people and other times. They were one of the few things in Charles’s house that Lucas loved, something that bridged gulfs in ways only imagined by dreamers.
They took their places at the long mahogany table, set with crystal and silver. There were two shallow bowls of scarlet leaves and floating white chrysanthemum heads set near the center, between the silver cruet sets. It was a typical Katherine touch.
Soup was served.
“Did I tell you, Grandpa, that I’m going to Cecily Cordell’s wedding?” Margot asked casually, referring to the daughter of friends in Berlin.
“No,” he said with surprise. “Is she getting married in London, then?”
“No, Berlin. She’s marrying a young officer in the army.”
“The German army?” Katherine looked startled. “You didn’t mention that.”
“I don’t think it’s exactly the army.” Margot looked at her soup appreciatively and took an elegant spoonful. “This is good, Mother. Did you teach Cook how to make it?”
Katherine did not cook as often as she would like. Her social duties took up a great deal of her time, as Charles’s position in the Foreign Office was still demanding. Neither of her daughters had inherited her talent. Margot might have, had she taken the trouble. Elena, so far as anyone knew, had never tried.
“What do you mean, not exactly?” Lucas asked, keeping his voice as level as possible.
Margot looked up. “I’m not
sure. It’s some special group doing more important work.”
“I beg your pardon?” Charles’s tone was suddenly cool.
“Sorry, Father, I think this only applies to Germans. They aren’t supposed to have a proper army, are they?”
“What does he do?” Katherine asked.
“I have no idea. I’m just going to represent the family and take everyone’s good wishes. I’m sure you wish her well.”
“I think it will take more than good wishes to make her happy if she’s to live in Germany,” Katherine said doubtfully. “But yes, of course we do.”
“I don’t think you should go to Berlin at the moment,” Charles said grimly. “It’s in a state of unrest. Rather unpleasant, in fact.”
“I’m only going socially, Father. There and back in a few days.”