Scent of Triumph (7 page)

Max’s lips formed a thin line. “Jean-Claude is right.”

Sorrow ached in her limbs, but now she understood her brother’s involvement. Hitler’s ambition and ideology tore at the very fabric of her family. She lifted her eyes to Max. “How can Hitler—just one man—harbor such hatred, yet inspire so many?”

Max shrugged helplessly.

“Why did Jean-Claude share this with you?”

“I know someone in Portugal, in the government. They provided Katrina’s family with documents.”

Danielle wiped perspiration from her upper lip. Her entire world had changed in a matter of days. Her family and home were under siege, and now her brother was in the underground.

She hugged her arms to herself, reality dawning on her. “Are you involved with this secret organization?”

“No, I haven’t had time. But now, we have no choice. Perhaps Jean-Claude can get a message to Mother.”

Hope surged in her heart. “I just want to know that they’re all right, and if we can get them out of Poland. If we can, oh darling, I’d never ask for another thing as long as I live. Let’s wire Jean-Claude right away.”

She hugged him, warm tears spilling onto her cheeks, and she prayed it was not too late.

Max buried his face in her hair. They held one another for a long time, exhausted, listening to the clock’s measured rhythm, the minutes marching on.

After such a long, tumultuous day, Danielle felt herself drifting to sleep in his arms.

But still, something gnawed at her, and she felt a strange sense of terror gathering in her chest.
What had Max meant about a plan with the British government?

Danielle pulled up the shades in their suite at the Leibowitz home. At night, all of England was under strict orders to darken windows. As she stood at the window, thin rays of morning light warmed her face, though the moist smell of rain felt heavy in her nose.

Outside, leaves had fallen from the autumn trees. She pressed her fingers against the glass, her heart laden with memories. The sun quickly faded, and moments later raindrops began to dot the windowpane; in another minute heavy rain sluiced across the glass, permeating the room with dampness. She sighed and closed her eyes, longing for the warmth and beauty of the south of France, where she had spent so many summers at her uncle’s home in Grasse and in his laboratory, blending perfume, developing her nose and her honing craft. As children, she and her brother had frolicked in fragrant fields of lavender, just as she and her darling little Nicky had done a few weeks before she and Max had left for New York.

Danielle massaged her aching temples. They’d received a letter from Jean-Claude, but still, there was no trace of Sofia, Nicky, or Heinrich. They’d vanished like dew in the midday sun.

How long would they have to wait for news? She tried to hold out hope, but her spirits were sagging.
Not knowing anything
, she thought,
that’s the worst of it.

A knock sounded at the door. Danielle adjusted a quilted pink satin robe Libby had given her over her expanding belly. “Come in,” she called.

Libby opened the door. “Thought you might like to share breakfast, what with Max away at his meeting.”

Danielle arranged a smile on her face, truly grateful for Libby’s companionship. “I’d love to, Libby.” Behind Libby stood Sarah, who wore a crisp white apron and held a tray. This upstairs breakfast had become a ritual whenever Max went out early. It began when Danielle was too queasy to take breakfast downstairs, but thankfully, her morning sickness had passed.

Sarah placed the tray on the Queen Anne table in front of the Georgian-mantled fireplace, then turned to revive the fire.

In an instant, Danielle sensed a familiar aroma, but no, she thought, shaking her head, it couldn’t be. She tried to push the memories of Grasse from her mind. Sometimes her memories and dreams were so vivid, she could actually sense aromas, like the sweet, buttery scent of the
boulangerie
in Grasse where they bought croissants, or the bountiful aromas in the perfume laboratory, or the fresh smell of Nicky’s silky hair in the summer sun. His laughter tinkled in her ears, and she could feel his soft cheek against hers.
If only he had come with us.
She shook her head again, pushing the thought that endlessly tortured her from her mind.

Libby, fresh-faced in a blue woolen morning dress, sat on the floral chintz sofa and patted a spot next to her. “It’s so nice to have company in the house. I don’t know what I’ll do when you leave.”

Danielle sat beside her and grasped Libby’s tiny hand. She cherished the sturdy little woman, who always smelled of Floris Lavender and who, so quickly, had become like a surrogate mother to her. She gave her a warm smile. “We’ll always keep in touch.”

With a sly grin, Libby lifted a silver dome from the tray.

Danielle’s eyes grew wide at the sight. So she hadn’t been imagining this time.
“Croissants! I thought I smelled them! But where did you find them?” Rations were underway in England, and butter, a prime ingredient in croissants, was in short supply.

Libby laughed. “His Majesty sent a basket of delicacies to Herb, thanking him for his work. Not that thanks were needed, mind you, but it was a nice gesture.”

Danielle nodded. Since war had been declared, Herb Leibowitz and Nathan Newell-Grey had spent hours consulting with the government, Herb on financial matters, and Nathan on Naval defense.

Sarah coaxed a bright blaze in the fireplace, then poured coffee, clucking her tongue as she did.

“Sarah still disapproves of my love of coffee in the morning,” Libby said with a smile, “but I prefer my tea in the afternoon. Thank you, Sarah. That will be all.” She turned to Danielle. “Strawberry jam with your croissant?”

“Sounds wonderful.” Danielle pinched off a piece of croissant, spread jam on it, and put it into her mouth, savoring the taste. “How is Mr. Newell-Grey? And Jon? We haven’t seen him in ages.”

Libby shook her head. “Nathan and Jon have been busy converting Newell-Grey ocean liners for military service, making room for military equipment. Even the
Queen Mary
will be pressed into service next year. I understand there are plans to paint her charcoal and call her the Grey Ghost.”

So, Jon had his hands full.
It’s just as well
, Danielle thought, recalling how close they’d become aboard the
Newell-Grey Explorer
. In fact, from the instant they’d met, she had felt a connection with Jon. She pushed the thought from her mind, though an odd pang of regret persisted.

“Coffee?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, thank you, Libby.” She shook her head. “I’ve had a lot on my mind this morning.”

Libby poured a cup and handed it to her. “Did you hear the morning news on the radio?”

Danielle felt her pulse quicken. France had joined England in the war against Germany, and both countries were well underway with military plans. “No, what happened?”

“Russia and Germany have signed a treaty establishing a line of demarcation through Poland.”

Her hand wavering, she put the cup down. She pushed her croissant away, swallowing hard against the bile that suddenly rose in her throat.

Libby touched Danielle’s hand, and went on. “The Polish government has fled to France.”

“That means Poland has been divided between the victors.” Danielle pressed her hand to her mouth.
The denouement.
No doubt, this would complicate their plan to find Nicky and Sofia.

Libby put her coffee down and placed her arm across Danielle’s shoulder, pulling her close. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“Oh, Libby, it’s all so horrible.” She sighed and leaned into the small woman, grateful for her comfort. Her head swirled. When would this madness stop?

Suddenly, Max opened the door and rushed in, waving a telegram in his hand. “This came just as I returned. It’s from Jean-Claude.”

Danielle leapt to her feet. “
Mon Dieu!
” Hope and dread surged in her heart.

Max gave it to Danielle. “Here, you open it.”

Libby glanced at them and stood. “I’ll leave you alone,” she said, and closed the door behind her.

Danielle grabbed the damp telegram and pressed it to her lips, smelling the thin soggy paper, then tore it open and began to read. “Family not at home. Neighbor reports family left in automobile.” She stared at the telegram, then let it fall from her hand, her hope plunging along with it.
They’re still missing
.

“Good, they’ve escaped.” Max rapped his fist in a staccato rhythm in his hand, and began to pace. “They’re probably in hiding.” He stopped. “Do you feel well enough to travel?”

Danielle reached for a chair and leaned into it, her heart racing. “Are we going home?” She knew that Max, in one of his many meetings, had visited British officials to enlist aid for their plight. As a German citizen, Max could return to Poland, but they feared the risk of Danielle’s return.

“Not you, my darling. I want you to go to France.”

She turned cold inside at the thought of Max leaving her. “Without you?”

“It’s the only way, darling. With France at war with Germany, I can’t enter France. And in your state, you should be with your family.”

She realized he was right, and nodded in numb acquiescence. A flutter of knowledge filled her. “Then you’re going home.”

Max nodded and knelt before her, his expression earnest, droplets of rain still clinging to his face. “The British government has also asked me to work for them.”

Her eyes widened in astonishment. “Why?”

“My asylum here is temporary. If I don’t work
with
England, then officials assume I’m against them. I could be imprisoned.” His mouth tightened. “Or worse.”

“Just for being a German national?”

Max took her hands and rubbed them. “I can’t blame them. My only choice is to travel into Germany as part of a British intelligence team.”

“You mean, as a spy?” She fought the urge to scream. Outside, the rain grew harder, pelting against the roof like pebbles. “How can you even consider this?” she snapped. “Is it not enough that our family is in danger?”

“I have no choice, Danielle. It is done. I leave next week.”

“Can’t you get our family out without having to spy for the British government?”

“No, it’s part of our agreement. From Germany, I’ll be able to enter Poland to find Mother and Nicky and Heinrich. Then Jean-Claude will help us send them on to France.”

She paused as his words registered, and her heart sank. “Won’t you be with them?”

“No, I’ll continue working for the British secret service. They need me, Danielle. My skills and language are critical in the fight against totalitarian aggression.”

“It’s
their
fight, Max. All I want is my family.”

He shook his head. “This is the only way. We must commit ourselves to maintaining liberty on the European continent.” He lowered his eyes. “Besides, they’ll pay me well. God knows we need the money.”

Danielle’s throat constricted and her head swirled, her eyes welling with tears of frustration and anger.
So, that’s what this was about.
They needed the money, yet Max was too proud to ask her father for assistance.
I can’t believe it.
She paused in thought. Still, Max promised to bring Nicky and Sofia to safety. She pressed her hands against the pressure building in her temples.

“Trust me, darling.” Max removed her hands and cradled her face, kissing the tears from her cheeks.

Danielle met his lips with hers, then pulled back and searched his earnest eyes.
He’s doing what he can
, she told herself. She leaned back against the sofa, anger draining from her aching head.
How I wish I could go with him.
She closed her eyes and sighed. “So you want me to go to France.”

“It’s best for you and the baby. There’s a ferry to France that leaves the same day I do.”

“How will you get into Germany?

Max hesitated. “We’ll parachute in.”

“
Mon Dieu!
” Her eyes flew open and she clutched his arm, terror slicing through her.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it. I’ll be fine.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, her heart racing, her palms damp. With every fiber of her being, she knew disaster awaited him, yet she refused to acknowledge her feeling.
Not this time
, she decided, balling her fists. This time will be different. Max will return with Nicky. God help him,
he will
. Her stomach coiled in on itself, and nausea crept to her throat. She swallowed against the bile, clenching her teeth.

He stroked her hair and they held one another for what seemed like an eternity, listening to the deluge outside as the rain pounded the windows like demon fists.

* * *

The next morning, Danielle was writing a letter to her mother when Hadley knocked on the door to say Miss Abigail was on the telephone for her. She raced downstairs to the hallway and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Danielle, Father told me you’re leaving for France. I’d like to give a farewell dinner for you, if you’re feeling up to it. Can you make it tomorrow?”

“We’d love to.”

“Wonderful, we all need to be with friends now, Danielle, now more than ever. I’ll see you and Max tomorrow then, say eight o’clock? We’ll have cocktails first.”

“Of course. And Abigail, thank you,” she added softly. How she would miss Abigail.

When Max returned that evening, he was unusually quiet.

“Is everything all right?” Danielle asked.

“Just more bureaucratic issues.” His voice sounded flat.

“Are you still going?”

“Yes, but Heinrich....” He heaved a great sigh and shook his head.

A silent alarm went off in Danielle’s head. She’d always felt uncomfortable with Max’s cousin. He never looked her in the eyes, yet she would catch him studying her when he thought she couldn’t see him. She remembered one day as she spoke, seeing his mocking face in a reflection on a window, and she shivered at the memory. “What about him?”

“Nothing, Danielle. Never mind. I have another appointment in the morning.”

She made no reply, but she had an eerie feeling in the pit of her stomach about Heinrich, and shuddered with uneasiness.