Scent of Triumph (6 page)

They reached the second floor and Libby turned. “I want to reiterate that you’re welcome here for as long as you wish.”

“You are too kind,” Max said.

“Not at all. It’s a little selfish on my part, really. You see, we were not blessed with children. We tried to claim Abigail and Jonathan as our own, but their parents wouldn’t hear of it.” She smiled wistfully. “A home this size needs people. You’ll give us company and conversation. I think it’s a fair trade. I only wish the circumstances were more favorable.”

“So do I,” Danielle said.

“Here we are.” Libby opened a door at the end of the hall. Danielle stepped inside. The plush carpet felt soft beneath her bare feet, which were rough and bruised from her ordeal.

The guest suite stretched the width of the building and consisted of a sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom. English Hepplewhite mahogany furniture and a sunny yellow and peach tapestry combined to create a setting of serene elegance.

A fireplace graced the sitting room and filled it with the comforting aroma of crackling wood. Danielle crossed to the windows, where a delicate Chippendale writing desk overlooked a manicured garden. She gazed out at a green maze of clipped hedges woven among a colorful blanket of well-tended roses. Tall trees in the early stage of coppery fall foliage surrounded the perimeter. Danielle sighed. How could she ever again enjoy such beauty, in the face of such worry and heartache?

Her thoughts were drawn to another lovely garden a thousand miles away. She remembered their beloved home, her son, and Sofia. Her head tingled, her skin grew cold. She gripped a chair for support.

“Oh my dear, please sit down,” Libby said. “You’re white as a ghost. A hot bath and a nap should do wonders.”

Danielle sank onto the chair, her head spinning.

Max started toward her. “Is it the baby?”

“I’ll be fine, Max.” She waved him away.
Of course it’s the baby! And the war, and my son, and Sofia, and....

Libby clicked her tongue and plumped a pillow on the bed. “Right, then. There are dressing gowns, fresh towels, and feather down pillows, and writing paper in the desk. My butler, Hadley, will see to your post and telegrams if you wish. You’re welcome to use the telephone. There’s one in the library downstairs. Simply give the number you wish to call and the operator will ring back when your call is answered. If there is anything else, Sarah will see to it.”

Danielle acknowledged Sarah with a kind glance.

Libby went on. “Turn the handle to the left of the fireplace to ring her downstairs and she’ll be right up. Won’t you Sarah?”

“Yes, madam.” Sarah dropped a curtsey.

“And Sarah will bring a change of clothes, along with tea and sandwiches, straight away.”

Danielle nearly gagged at the mention of food.

Libby paused with her hand on the doorknob. “We’ll see you downstairs at seven-thirty for cocktails.”

Miraculously, Sarah produced clothing and shoes for them, worn but serviceable. “Yer lucky,” she told them. “We have all sizes. Mrs. Leibowitz collects clothes for the London Women’s Society.”

After a steaming bath, Danielle’s body was somewhat restored, but her mind still swirled.
How would they return home? Was Nicky safe? How ill was Sofia?

She emerged from the bathroom in a cotton robe. Max was pouring tea in the sitting room. Instantly, she detected the aroma of bergamot—that would be Earl Grey tea, she knew, her mind instantly transported to her perfumer’s organ. The citrusy oil from the Italian bergamot fruit was frequently used to lift and freshen the opening accord in perfumes. And, of course, in Earl Grey tea. She sighed, aching for her art...her family, her home.

Sarah had left a silver tea service on a tray laden with cold chicken and cucumber sandwiches. The crisp cucumber smelled fresh and green, but still, she couldn’t imagine eating.
When will this madness end?

“Cup of tea, darling? Sandwich?”

Danielle leaned against the sofa and shook her head.

Max frowned at her. “You look pale, Danielle. Are you sure you’re well enough for dinner?”

“Actually, no,” she snapped. “How can you even think of a dinner party at a time like this?”

Max’s jaw tightened. “What do you want, Danielle, a silver tray in your room tonight? Don’t act spoiled, we have a responsibility to our hosts. Besides, I must speak with Nathan Newell-Grey.”

She threw a glance at the tea service before Max, but she was too weary to voice her opinion on double standards. Bitterness welled in her throat. “Fine, I’ll get through the evening somehow.”

“Good girl. I know you can do it.”

Danielle winced at his choice of words. Sometimes he made her feel so inconsequential, as if she were a little girl.
Or maybe I’m just tired
, she thought, and left it at that.

After a brief rest, Danielle woke. She sorted through the clothing Sarah had brought and selected a dark wool suit to try on. She zipped the skirt closed, pinned the waist fullness to fit, and folded under the jacket sleeves to shorten them. She brushed her hair and wound it into a simple chignon.

But something was missing, and she realized with a pang of sadness that she felt bare without her perfume. It was the first time she could remember not applying perfume as she dressed.
That’s the least of our worries
, she thought. Shrugging the feeling off, she finished dressing, then turned to Max. “Ready when you are.”

The Newell-Greys and Libby and Herb Leibowitz greeted them in the foyer. After exchanging pleasantries, Max turned to Jon. “Good to see you again.”

“Likewise, old boy. You both look much better. Say, I’d better warn you, my sister Abigail is right behind us with a friend of hers, the singing star, Cameron Murphy. He’s an old friend of ours from Los Angeles, he’s working on a Red Cross charity project for her here in London.”

At that, Abigail and Cameron entered.

Abigail greeted Danielle and Max with warmth. She clasped Danielle’s hand. “Jon told me all about you this afternoon. I’m so sorry to hear of your dreadful predicament.” Abigail’s face softened with concern. “Your poor little boy. Is he your only child?”

Danielle nodded.

“I have a soft spot in my heart for children,” Abigail continued. “They should not have to suffer the woes of the world. If I ever had children—” A strange expression crossed Abigail’s face and she coughed into her hand.

I wonder what’s troubling her?
Danielle gave her a moment, and as she waited, she saw that Abigail favored her older brother, with the same liquid brown eyes and wavy chestnut brown hair, though her features were more delicate. Tall and slim, she had the athletic build of the Newell-Grey family, and her complexion was alabaster smooth. She wore a black sheath-style dress with a single strand of large creamy pearls at her throat. Danielle detected the subtle aroma of lily of the valley emanating from her skin and hair.

Abigail regained her composure. “I should introduce my friend, Cameron Murphy.”

Cameron greeted everyone in turn. With his charming manner and darkly handsome, Hollywood features, Danielle understood why he had a reputation as a ladies’ man.

“I promised Abigail I’d call when I came to London.” Cameron’s melodic voice resonated sensuality. “And I never break a promise to a beautiful woman.”

Laughter bubbled in Abigail’s throat. “Don’t believe him. He’s left a string of broken hearts and promises in his wake. Thank goodness we’re just friends.”

Cameron turned to Danielle and bowed, his black eyes dancing. “She lies,
madame
, do I look like a slimy swain?” He gave her an alluring smile, took her hand and kissed it. “I am but a noble knight, at the bidding of damsels in distress.”

Danielle didn’t have the energy to muster a snappy reply. And when Max cleared his throat, she knew he was only partly jesting. She withdrew her hand, and crinkled her nose as she caught a whiff of Irish whiskey from Cameron’s kiss.
Northern Ireland whiskey
, she noted, her brain instantly recalling the aroma.
Bushmills
. Still, he was charming.

“Come on Cam, she’s taken.” Jon glanced pointedly at Max. “Careful with your wife around this one. He’s been known to melt the will of nuns.”

Abigail arched a brow at Jon. “Oh Jon, you’re just jealous because Cameron always steals your girlfriends. Speaking of which, where’s Victoria?”

“On holiday in Ireland with friends,” Jon said with a shrug.

Abigail raised a brow, then took Cameron’s elbow. “Let’s have drinks, I believe I promised you a Pimm’s Cup.”

They moved to the verandah for cocktails. The conversation continued, turning to the sinking of the
Newell-Grey Explorer
and Germany’s advances.

Danielle sipped water and listened as Max spoke first in defense of the German people, then against Hitler. He’d always taken pride in his homeland. His father’s family was an old and distinguished line.

The heated discussion continued through dinner. Danielle managed the chicken broth, but couldn’t stomach the lamb chops. Listening to Nathan and Herb, it was clear they were businessmen of considerable influence with keen political insights. At last, she gave in to exhaustion, and Max followed her upstairs.

They sat on the couch in front of the fireplace. She removed the pins from her hair, sank her throbbing head into her hands and rubbed her temples.

“I feel so useless, Max. What can we do about Nicky and Sofia?”

He put his arms around her. “I fear there’s not much we can do.”

Why was he sounding so defeated?
She arched away from him. “We’ve got to go back right away.”

“Perhaps Poland can defend herself against Germany.”

“But you heard what Herb Leibowitz said at dinner. Poland cannot stand against Nazi Germany. We must get our family away from those monsters.”

“Have faith, Danielle.”

“Faith? Faith has nothing to do with this.”
What on earth was wrong with him?
She punctuated her words with her finger. “Don’t be condescending to me. What about
my son
?”

“Damn it, he’s
my
son, too!”

Danielle stared at him, stunned at his uncharacteristic outbreak.

A chinoiserie clock on the Chippendale desk ticked loudly in the silence.

Max stood and strode to the mantle, clearly exasperated.

Danielle’s intuition prickled on the back of her neck. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Darling, we just have to have patience with the British authorities. We, or they, may have a plan.”

She felt like screaming. Struggling against the rising tide of emotion she felt, she managed to say, “But patience can cost the lives of our family.”

Max gripped the mantle and shook his head. “Actually, there is another way.”

She sat with her arms crossed, glaring at him, fighting to suppress her impatience. “What does the British government have to do with us?”

“There may be a way to contact Mother through them.”

“How?” The edge in Danielle’s voice made him turn around. She stood with her hands on her hips, shoulders squared.

“Well? Tell me.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, passing his hands over his face. “I wanted to protect you from all of this. I tried to protect everyone, and look where we are.” He waved his hand around the room, then let it drop. He sighed, then straightened, and nodded to himself. “All right, Danielle, but what I am about to tell you requires the absolute utmost in secrecy. Do you understand?”

“Go on.”

“It involves your brother.”

Danielle felt her heart pounding.
Why couldn’t he just get to the point?
Her voice rose with agitation. “Jean-Claude? But he’s in medical school in Paris, how can he help us?”

“Shhh.” Max held a finger to his lips and moved close to Danielle. He continued in a low voice. “He has connections.”

“What do you mean?”

“During his visit this past June, do you remember his friendship with Katrina, my secretary’s niece?”

“Of course, but how is this important?”

“Jean-Claude helped Katrina’s family escape from occupied Czechoslovakia and cross into Portugal, from where they sailed to the United States.”

Danielle took a step back, shaking her head in confusion. “My brother was responsible? Why didn’t I know this?” She narrowed her eyes.

“No one was to know. Jean-Claude is involved with underground networks across Europe that work against Hitler’s regime. He helps free innocent people. Your brother has a deep sense of justice.”

A silence hung between them, the clock thundering with each passing second.

A shiver ran down Danielle’s spine. True, Jean-Claude’s concern for human suffering led him to the medical field. “But his studies....”

“What he does now is not so very different. It is dangerous, but he is saving lives, just as surely as a doctor saves lives on the operating table.”

“I–I had no idea.” She thought she and her brother shared everything.
What else didn’t she know?

Max took her hand. “Europe is connected by cells of people like your brother, people who have the courage to help others in need, people who devote their lives to end Hitler’s advances. You should be proud of Jean-Claude, but we must keep this confidential. His life depends on it. Not even his wife or your parents know about this, especially not your father. I swore on my life to keep his secret.”

“Hélène doesn’t know?” Danielle frowned. “No, I guess Jean-Claude wouldn’t want to worry her, she’s so busy with little Liliana. And Papa—”

Max cut her off. “As long as your father’s bank continues to finance Germany’s industrial expansion, he must never know about Jean-Claude’s activities.”

“But Papa is just one of many board members. He says it’s only business.” Her head pounded as she pieced together information, and her heart sank at her realization. “Who knew that the bank’s funds would be used for munitions, to mount an army to advance against other countries?”

She pressed a hand to her mouth, remembering. “Jean-Claude thinks Papa’s job is a betrayal of Maman, of us, and of all those of Jewish heritage.”