The Chase: A Novel (22 page)

Rachel looked around. There were meters and meters between every diner. The table could probably seat twenty or more. Did the Elgins always dine in here? And if they did, what was it like when they did not have guests? Rachel thought it would be awkward, cold and even lonely.

Two servants entered the dining room and began pouring wine and water. Rachel started, turning to look at Papa. They never began a meal without lighting candles and saying a simple blessing. Papa just smiled at her. His eyes were even sadder than they had been earlier.

Rachel glanced across the table at Sarah, but Sarah was eyeing Harry out of the corner of her eye, and Harry was flushing all over again. Sarah smiled as if pleased. Rachel suddenly realized that she was doing something under the table to her cousin. Were they somehow holding hands? What could Sarah possibly be thinking?

“I don’t drink wine,” Hannah suddenly announced. “Except for a sip during the seder.”

The servant moved on.

“And what is a seder?” Lady Ellen asked with a bright smile.

“We celebrate being free people,” Hannah said proudly. “We used to be the pharaoh’s slaves.”

Lady Ellen blinked, not understanding a word Hannah had said.

“It is a Jewish ritual,” Elgin said, taking a sip of his wine.

“It is one of the holiest days of the year,” Papa corrected, seated on Lady Ellen’s other side. “It is a high holy day and a celebration. But Hannah is right. Once we were slaves. Moses led our people to freedom. In fact, the Red Sea parted to allow us to escape the tyranny of bondage in Egypt.”

“Oh,” Lady Ellen said, sipping her white wine, wide-eyed.

Papa seemed irritated. Elgin made a sound.

Food was served.

Rachel could not believe her eyes—there were several different kinds of chicken, as well as a platter each of lamb and beef. There were green vegetables she did not recognize, and a salad of fresh greens. There were roasted potatoes and yellow rice. There was so much food! It was a meal fit for a king and queen. Did they always dine like this?

Her stomach growled. Of course, her family kept a kosher table, so they would not be able to eat everything.

Harry turned to his father. “Father, what do you make of this new post for Anthony Eden?”

Rachel realized they were going to talk about politics. Anthony Eden was some government official, but that was all she knew.

Elgin made a scoffing sound. “Absolutely absurd,” he said. “We hardly need a post like ‘minister without portfolio for League of Nations affairs.’”

“Yes, I do agree,” Harry said. “Enough of the League, war will never be out of fashion as the Leaguists hope—unfortunately.”

Sarah was gazing at Harry with wide, worshipful eyes. He turned to grin at her.

“I disagree,” Papa said, sitting up straighter. Rachel took one look at his face, and her heart fell. He had an expression she recognized well: he disagreed and was going to set everyone straight—come hell or high water.

“If more men were Leaguists, war would most definitely become out of fashion, as you put it. Collective security is the answer to the troubles of our times,” he stated firmly.

“So you support the League,” Elgin said with a cool tone. “It is useful enough, I suppose. Pacifists like yourself have a legitimate venue. I am sure the Japanese admire the League as well, after all, the Leaguists let them walk off with Manchuria.”

“The Japanese exited the League in response to the Lytton report,” Papa said, his eyes darkening. “Our government betrayed the League of Nations. There is no doubt about that.”

“Our government hardly betrayed the League by concurring with the report of an independent commission. For God’s sakes, man, for all intents and purposes this country runs the League—so why would our government betray it?”

“To support our interests in Shanghai,” Papa shot back fiercely.

Rachel looked from one man to the other. They were both so angry. How could they be stopped? She knew it would be terribly rude for her to make a comment to Sarah or anyone else just then. And everyone else at the table seemed mesmerized by the debate.

“Rearmament is what we really need,” Elgin said firmly. “Not collective security or pacifism, and certainly not a bunch of conciliatory and cowardly men sitting around a table in Geneva discussing world affairs! Rearmament—and sanctions. We should have used a blockade in the Far East.”

Papa made a scoffing sound. “As if we would ignore the Americans! They would never allow a blockade in a place where their interests are so vast.”

“If we had men of moral fiber leading this country—men who do not ignore the recommendations of our chiefs of staff—Great Britain would reign supreme on land, on sea, and in the air,” Elgin said, slapping his fist on the table.

Rachel jerked at the sound. She glanced around and saw that Sarah was eyeing Harry out of the corner of her eye, while his gaze darted back and forth between Elgin and Papa. At the foot of the table, Ellen seemed frozen with a fork poised over her salad. Lionel was staring at Papa, fascinated.

“Should we choose to back up the League in a real crisis, we will find ourselves in an unnecessary war,” Papa said, flushed now, his voice every bit as raised as Elgin’s.

This was going too far, Rachel thought desperately. She tried to catch Papa’s attention, but he had eyes only for their host.

“Well, lucky for you, we cannot support the League in a real crisis, as we do not have the armaments to do so without a plan of rearmament!” Elgin said.

Papa’s face was so dark that Rachel was afraid he would pound on the table as well—either that or have a heart attack. “I suppose you would support Germany’s domination of Europe as well as Japan’s domination of the Far East?” Papa asked harshly.

Oh, no
, Rachel thought. They were not going to debate the subject of Germany now! “Papa?” she whispered.

He did not hear her.

Elgin was speaking. “Germany has many legitimate grievances due to the Treaty of Versailles, which is one reason Hitler rose so quickly to power.”

“Oh, so now you support Hitler? He is a threat to Britain’s security and that of all of Europe!” Papa cried. “Can you not see? Capitalism is in its last throes. Here, finally, is the proof. Hitler has been secretly supported by the city of London these past few years. Otherwise there would not be a fascist state.”

“My God!” Elgin was on his feet. He had paled. “You are a communist!”

Papa stood also. “And if I am?”

“Sarah?” Rachel whispered, scandalized.

The embittered men had Sarah’s full attention finally. She glanced at Rachel, her eyes wide with alarm. Rachel could read her thoughts exactly. She, too, wanted to stop them before they came to blows. And never mind that Sarah’s motives were completely different from Rachel’s.

Elgin was red-faced. He shouted, “National socialism is a far better alternative than communism, my friend. Hitler has saved his country from communists like yourself!”

“That is pro-fascist propaganda, my friend,” Papa said coldly. “Disseminated by both Labour and Conservatives alike, solely with the purpose of denigrating the Communist Party. Perhaps you should don a black shirt and join Mosley’s British union of fascists?”

“Papa!” Rachel cried. “We are guests here!”

“I am hardly a fascist,” Elgin gritted. “I am a Conservative, Greene.”

“Point made,” Papa said coolly.

Elgin and Papa stared at each other like two bulls in the same pen. Would they come to blows?

Rachel was perspiring. How had this evening come to such an end? Then, thankfully, Harry stood and went to his father, touching his sleeve. “Father? It doesn’t matter what he thinks. It will not change anything. And this is a free country. One is allowed to express one’s political opinions—for the most part.” He smiled winningly at Elgin.

Rachel wanted to hug him. He was a wonderful young man! “Papa? Mama would hate this,” Rachel whispered, and as she spoke, tears filled her eyes. “Is this how we treat her memory?”

Papa started. So did Elgin. The two men glanced at her and then at each other. In unison, they sat down, leaving Harry standing. He returned to his seat.

Lady Ellen spoke, her voice high and strained. “How is the guinea hen? You must try that plum sauce!”

Everyone attacked the food. Except for Lionel. He said, “The Blackshirts are marching next Saturday in Cheapside. Anyone care to attend? We can throw tomatoes if you like.”

Rachel felt like kicking him. No one bothered to respond. Rachel thought that she was the very first one to arise the following morning. How could she sleep? The sun was barely casting its glow over the river running through the hills when she went to her bedroom window. The sight was glorious, and it made Rachel smile.

She quickly washed and dressed, then went into Hannah’s room. Her sister was still in bed and barely awake, clutching a rag doll to her chest. “Let’s take a walk before breakfast, sleepyhead,” Rachel said. “We shouldn’t waste one single minute of this weekend holiday!”

Hannah yawned. “I’m too tired to get up,” she said.

“Then I will take a walk. I’ll be back in an hour,” Rachel promised.

Hannah did not reply. She had fallen back asleep.

Rachel knew better than to stop by Sarah’s room. Given the choice, Sarah would always sleep in, and last night she had sat out on the terrace with Harry for an hour or so after supper. Lady Ellen had been their chaperone.

Rachel did not want to disturb Papa, either. He was always up at dawn, except on Shabbat, when he rose an hour or so later. It would be good for him to oversleep, she thought, so she went downstairs by herself, pulling a cardigan on over her skirt and shirt, to ward off the early-morning Welsh chill.

No one was about. The house was absolutely silent. Rachel found herself smiling. Briefly, she wondered what it must be like to be the mistress of such a home.

She slipped outside without seeing even a servant. She would never be the mistress of such a home, and she knew it. One day she would marry someone like Papa, a handsome Jewish boy who made an honest and respectable living. She would marry for love, not money or position. She would have a life very much like the one she now had.

Rachel wandered through the first garden, which was filled with roses of every imaginable color. The sun was higher now, shining and full, an orange ball. Fingers of apricot drenched the hills and the horizon. The lake was ahead, surrounded by elm trees, cloaked in mist. From a distance it was hard to see, but Rachel thought she could see one of the swans drifting upon the water. She refused to think about the previous day’s episode. Her steps quickened. She would sit out at the lake for a while. She was sorry she hadn’t brought a book to read.

The mist clinging to the lake was beginning to lift. As she approached, one of the swans glided toward her, emerging from the silvery wisps of vapor. As he came closer, his black eyes became visible. They were intent. Rachel wondered if he expected food. She had nothing to give him.

Another swan appeared, approaching. The mist was disappearing. The sun had become yellow and bright. They were such beautiful creatures, Rachel thought. She did not blame Lady Ellen for bringing them here to the north of Wales.

Birds were chirping madly now. As if on cue, the entire lake became drenched in dazzling sunlight. The two swans waited expectantly by the edge of the lake, regarding Rachel.

“Where’s your friend?” she asked, her hands in the pockets of her lilac cardigan. And her gaze lifted.

Her smile vanished. The third swan was at the opposite edge of the lake. Like its two brethren, it was not moving, but Rachel’s heart lurched—something seemed very wrong.

A feeling of dread overcame her. Rachel hurried around the lake, closing the distance between her and the third swan. She realized that the other two swans had lost interest in her and were swimming to the opposite bank.

The third swan wasn’t just still, Rachel realized, it was floating on its side.

She halted abruptly, in disbelief.

It was floating on its side, as though dead.

But that couldn’t be. Rachel broke into a run. As she approached, she realized its face was in the water—it was most definitely dead.

She stopped breathlessly and saw as clearly as if she were a veterinarian that its neck had been ruthlessly twisted and broken.

Rachel sat alone in a small but elegant parlor. She did not move. In fact, she felt afraid to move, as if by doing so she would cause something horrible to happen. Her hands were clasped in her lap. There was a huge, gilded clock in one corner of the room, and it was ticking loudly. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The room—and the house—were so silent, it was as if everyone were in mourning. But then, someone—no, something—had died.

It was only a quarter to eight.

Rachel wondered if Lady Ellen had awakened yet, and if she knew the fate of her beautiful swan. Rachel wondered if she would grieve in her room or come downstairs. She wondered who could have committed such a gruesome deed.

Rachel heard voices and the front door of the house slamming closed. She leaped to her feet, wringing her hands—she was quite certain she had heard Papa speaking, but his words were low and hushed and indecipherable. Papa and Elgin walked into the room, trailed by Harry and Lionel. Papa was grim. Elgin seemed taken aback. Harry was wide-eyed.