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He raised his glass. “Here’s to you, Frau Driscoll, and all who have the courage and wisdom to think like you.”
She lifted her own glass and touched it to his, then took another sip of her drink, although it nearly choked her.
She might learn more about their beliefs, who supported them, and how, if she practiced patience and stifled her own emotions.
CHAPTER
10
Margot woke up on the morning of Cecily’s wedding day with emotions choking her so much she could barely breathe. She wanted to weep for all that had been hers for a moment and then lost. She turned over and felt her pillow cold on her cheek. It was wet with her tears.
Paul! Paul, why did you have to go back there one more time? There were only weeks left, and the war would have been over.
But Paul was dead years ago and time was rolling on inexorably. The year 1918 seemed like another lifetime. She must pull herself together, bathe her face in cold water, and go to breakfast with the family. They would expect it of her. This was Cecily’s day, not Margot’s. She must help make it happy. God knew, nothing was guaranteed.
Margot wished Cecily were marrying anyone but Hans.
How must Winifred be feeling? Her only child slipping out of her protection and into a big, noisy, deaf, and dangerous world. There was nothing Winifred or anybody could do to protect Cecily—or anyone else. “You can’t fight their battles for them, only give them armor.” Who had said that? Grandfather Lucas, to Josephine.
And pray, of course. You could do that. You would feel as if you were helping. But what was God going to do that would help? Make Hans good? Make him love Cecily so much he would turn out to be a good man? What did that mean? In this context, it meant not a Nazi. Not an admirer of violence, oppression, the belief if you won, you could justify whatever you had done.
Would God soften this young man’s heart so he did not break Cecily’s? Find a way for him to serve his country, other than by becoming one of Hitler’s acolytes? “Ja, mein Führer. Nein, mein Führer. Heil Hitler!” Reject all of that and still survive, even prosper?
Wasn’t it the ultimate hypocrisy to pray for something you would not work for yourself, sacrifice for yourself? Rather like giving the servants a list of things to do for the day.
Get up, Margot! Go and do all you can for it yourself. Make Cecily’s day one to remember all her life, whatever happens afterward.
She washed and dressed carefully, putting on new underwear, lace and silk. She had washed her hair yesterday evening. Now it was silky soft and shining. She wound it up carefully, sleekly, into a chignon, held together by a forest of pins. She made up her face lightly, complexion perfect, eyes wide and dark, lashes black. She stopped and looked at herself. There was no slackness in her jaw, no severe lines on her brow. Where was the wear and tear of time? She was now comfortably over thirty. In her eyes, she saw a certain immobility to her smile.
Now she must go downstairs looking happy and confident, and give all her attention to the Cordell family.
“Good morning, dear,” Winifred said, as soon as Margot came into the dining room.
The table was set as usual, but no one except Cordell himself seemed to be taking a proper meal. Winifred was looking after everyone else, including the staff, at the expense of herself. Cecily was sitting at the table in her glistening white petticoat, trying to force herself to eat some scrambled eggs on toast.
A maid came in with a flat iron in her hand and tears on her face.
“What is it now, Greta?” Winifred asked with careful patience.
Greta explained in German that she did not trust the electric iron. The old flat iron did as you told it, and she was so scared of scorching Miss Cecily’s dress, she couldn’t do it.
“Then don’t worry.” Winifred took the iron from her. “I’ll do it. You get Miss Margot some scrambled eggs from Cook. Go on, now, there’s a good girl.”
Greta handed her the iron and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Can I help?” Margot asked.
“Yes, please. Eat your breakfast and see that Cecily eats hers. We want her radiant, not looking like a ghost and fainting in the aisle,” Winifred replied. “Please.” She was wearing some kind of a robe that covered her, but clearly she, too, had all but prepared herself. Her hair was coming out of its pins. Margot would have liked the opportunity to fasten it for her and make sure everything was set, before they finally departed for the church.
She glanced at Cordell. He was immaculately shaved, and his thick, slightly graying dark hair could have been a barber’s advertisement for its perfection. He was dressed, ready to leave, but for his jacket and his expression. He might have been going to his own execution, judging by the tension in his shoulders and the muscles of his neck.
Margot sat down and poured herself a cup of tea. It would be a few minutes before her eggs arrived. She was not at all sure she wanted them. She did not usually eat much at breakfast, but this was not a day to upset their little routine.
Cecily was watching her, a hesitant smile on her face.
Margot glanced out of the long windows onto the garden. They faced east and caught the first light. A good piece of planning. No one cared so much about last light at dinnertime.
“Going to be a lovely day in everything,” she said, smiling back at Cecily. “Are your flowers here yet?”
