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He showed her into the elegant drawing room and went to inform Mrs. Cordell of her presence.
Margot sat down and forced herself to look casual. She was wearing a pale silk dress, not quite formal enough for this hour in the early evening, but very flattering. It was not like her to be ill at ease in any circumstances. However, this was desperate, dangerous. Intelligence was required, not self-control.
Winifred came into the room and closed the door behind her. She was wearing a greenish-blue afternoon dress, very fashionable and, Margot guessed, very expensive. She looked far happier than Margot remembered.
“How pleasant to see you,” Winifred said graciously, holding out both hands, as if to welcome an old friend.
“You are looking so well,” Margot said, meaning it. “And I adore that dress. The color is perfect.”
Winifred gave a smile and a slight shrug. “Thank you. We are entertaining the French this evening and they always set the standard in elegance. I must…keep up with things, you know…”
“I am sure you are ahead of them,” Margot responded, knowing that Winifred meant fashion and society. “The French ambassador’s wife will be terribly polite, and green with envy!”
“Oh, it’s just a quiet dinner,” Winifred demurred. “I would invite you to stay and join us, but we are inviting the parents of Cecily’s fiancé, Herr and Frau Weissman, and of course Kurt and Cecily. It is the first time they will have been here.” She smiled tentatively. “Very charming, but…”
“You are afraid I will say something…incorrect?” Margot said gently.
“Not at all! I am afraid I will,” Winifred confessed. “They are of the new aristocracy…” She stopped, looking at Margot to see if she understood what that meant.
“Connected to the Führer?” Margot said with a sudden catch in her voice.
“Yes. Herr Weissman is something in the new government. I asked Roger to find out exactly what. We ought to know. And Kurt is in the police—the Gestapo.” She smiled as she said it. Could she possibly mean it? Perhaps he was a nice young man…if any nice young men joined such a body? Margot must not judge too quickly.
Winifred was waiting for her reaction.
“He must be doing very well,” she said. “I hear they are a very elite group…”
“Yes, they are. And Kurt is already rising.” Winifred clearly did not know what to say next.
“If he loves Cecily, then he has excellent judgment.” The words sounded hollow even to Margot. “And if Cecily loves him,” she went on, “then there must be a lot of good in him.” What a hypocrite she was. “And perhaps she will sustain even more…as time goes by.”
“Yes,” Winifred agreed. “Yes. I…all I want is her happiness.”
“Of course.”
“Roger has only just met him. I am…I am hoping this evening will go well…”
“I am sure it will,” Margot lied. Now she understood Cordell’s silence. She wished profoundly that she had not given him a list of Elena’s friends. Some of them were Jewish.
Almost as if hearing her thoughts, Winifred spoke again. “You are just visiting Berlin for a short time? A pity. We would like to have seen more of you. Are you here with your sister? Elena, isn’t it?”
Margot looked at the woman. Was it possible she didn’t know of the manhunt for Elena? Of course she knew! But nothing was going to interfere with her daughter’s engagement dinner. Before she could respond, Winifred spoke.
“In these uncertain times,” she said with a smile, “I am so happy to see Cecily settled. And in such a…a fortunate family.”
Her voice wavered, and Margot realized in that instant how afraid for her daughter Winifred was. If Cordell was moved, and Cecily wanted to stay here, where her friends were, she would be desperately alone. Winifred would have to go wherever Roger went. But if Cecily married here, she would not be so alone.
“Of course,” Margot said quickly. She understood only too well. She could see why Winifred might have done all she could to foster this romance, this apparent safety for her only child. This was not a heroic marriage to a dissenter, or worse, a Jew who would be hunted down, driven out. This was a son of the master race. Cecily would be as safe as anyone could be. “And you like him?” she asked, hearing the false note in her own voice.
“I like anyone who keeps Cecily safe, and happy, I…I don’t really know him yet. Perhaps you would like to stay and meet them? They should be here quite soon. And Cecily would be very sorry to think that you were here, and she missed you. Perhaps a cup of tea?”
The last thing Margot wanted was to stay, to be forced to see this young man. She could remember perfectly the night she and Paul were engaged. Her happiness was like a tidal wave, sweeping everything in front of it. “Of course,” she said, and instantly regretted it. “And I’d love a good cup of tea.” That at least was true. And perhaps she would see in this young man something of what Cecily saw. She should not prejudge. Just don’t mention Elena!
She had not long to wait. She had barely finished her tea and was feeling refreshed when they arrived. She heard them in the hall, and a moment later the drawing-room door opened and Cecily came in, her arms outstretched in greeting. She was all elegance, dark curls untidy but gorgeous, silk skirt brightly colored.
“Margot! How wonderful to see you. You’ve made my day perfect.” She hugged Margot warmly, then turned to the young man in a stiff, gray uniform behind her. “This is Kurt. We are going to be married—very soon.”
Margot looked into the almost handsome face of the young man. “Congratulations. I hope you will be very happy.” The words were dead on her lips as she met his perfect smile, his eyes as steady and cold as a polar dawn.
