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“For God’s sake, of course not!” Cordell’s voice was almost strangled in his throat.
“If you’re sure…”
“Of course I’m not sure! I’m not sure of anything, except that to stand apart and not even try is the one thing that’s wrong. I’m going to give my daughter away to that ambitious would-be dictator today and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. My wife thinks it’s the surest way to keep her safe…” His voice cracked and he clearly struggled to keep it level. “She could be right. I…I can’t bring myself to tell her what I believe…what I’ve seen. But you need a bloody long spoon to sup with the devil. I can only hope that in poisoning myself, I’ll poison him, too.”
There was silence beyond the door. Margot waited. There was nowhere in here to hide. No cupboards. No curtains heavy enough to conceal her. She could feel the sweat trickling down her skin, inside her glorious, rust-colored silk dress. It was as close fitting as it could be, without vulgarity. It felt like a cocoon now, something she wanted to break out of.
“Then I’ll begin,” the man said from beyond the study door.
She heard Cordell say something, then footsteps, one set of them going to the door to the hall. There was a rustle of paper. Cordell was still in the study. What was she going to do if he stayed?
She had to get out! Cecily would be looking for her. If she insisted that she had heard nothing, he would know she was lying. She could hardly say she’d fallen asleep. At this time in the morning? Today, of all days? And standing up!
She looked at her watch. She had only a few minutes before she should go to check if Cecily was ready. And she had to get into her own car to follow them. That driver would soon be here, too.
There was nothing for it but to face Cordell honestly. She turned the handle and pulled the door open. It squeaked faintly on its hinges. She had not even noticed it when she came in.
Cordell swung round to face her. The color drained out of his skin. For a moment, he fought for words, even as he knew they were pointless.
She was overwhelmed with pity for him. He struggled, and the net tightened. Everyone he loved could so easily be hurt, even destroyed. She walked forward without even thinking. It was the only thing she could bear to do. She put her hand very gently on his arm. “Be careful, Roger, please.”
“Margot…”
“Don’t try to explain,” she said quickly. “I understand what I can see, and a few things that Elena told me. There are things of which we see only bits and pieces, and we can only guess what the rest is, or could become. I’ll look after Cecily and do all I can to make this a wonderful day. What happens after that…nobody knows.”
“Winifred…” he began, then stopped, his face filled with distress.
“I know,” Margot said quickly. She gave him a quick smile. Then she turned away and walked to the door, opened it, and went through without looking back.
* * *
—
The wedding itself was beautiful. The church was not a large one and was filled with people, even spilling out into the warm sunshine in the street. The families of the bride and groom and all their close friends were inside. Margot just managed to be at the back, on the aisle, as Cordell walked slowly past her, with Cecily on his arm. Whatever Cecily felt—tension, fear, just nervous excitement on the brink of what might be the most important decision of her life—she looked beautiful, vivid and confident, even through her light veil. She walked with her head high and with an extraordinary, almost regal grace.
Again, Margot found the tears prickling in her eyes, but it was not from grief for the past, for all the people who could have been here, if they had come home from the war. It was from emotion for Cecily: hope, courage, trust that fate would be kind to her, that she would find all the strength she would need.
Margot glanced toward the front of the church and saw the back of Winifred’s head, the elegant tilt of her hat. It was blue-gray; its sweeping brim would reflect the color of her eyes. Winifred was still beautiful in a luminous, fragile way. And she was prepared to pay any price at all to protect her only child.
The organ music swelled, filling the huge vault of the ceiling with a happy, glorious sound.
Cord
ell and Cecily were almost at the altar.
Margot was too far toward the back to recognize particular people, but she saw plenty of gray or balding heads above military uniforms. And there was a gorgeous array of hats: white, pale pink, blue, red, green, decorated with feathers, flowers, silk, velvet ribbons, with brims of every width and at every angle. Margot imagined what kinds of faces were beneath them and why they were here.
She watched Hans. He stood very straight. His uniform was immaculate, his thick, fair hair shone under the light. He stood with his back to the body of the church. She tried to imagine his expression. What was he thinking? Was he listening to the words? Did he believe in the God to whom he was giving lip service in the promises he made? Or was Adolf Hitler his god in this world?
She forced the thought out of her mind, lest she have to face the fear that the essence of it was true.
The vows were complete, the sermon over, and organ music filled the air with elation and joy. Hans and Cecily turned and walked back down the aisle, smiling at friends and semistrangers alike, radiating happiness.
Margot found herself smiling, too, as widely as if she had no chill of doubt at all, as if the music took her on its wings and carried her along.
* * *
—
