The days that followed were tense. I did not see Jean Pascal during that time. I fancied he thought it wiser to keep away. I tried not to show any difference in my attitude toward Andrée, as Jean Pascal had warned me emphatically about this. It was not easy. Andrée had become a different person in my eyes. I could not help marveling at Edward’s love for her, but he had known her almost all his life. It was hard for me to accept the fact that indirectly she could have had a hand in his mother’s murder.
What a web of intrigue we had stumbled into, and largely because of Annabelinda’s lighthearted dalliance with a man who was spying for his country.
I knew that we could not go on as though everything were normal. Something had to happen soon.
It did. One day Andrée went out alone and did not come back.
There was great consternation in the house. At first Mrs. Cherry was quite indignant. The nurse had no right to stay away so long. She was lucky to have so much free time. She would soon discover that if she took a place somewhere else. But when evening came and she had not returned, Mrs. Cherry changed her attitude. She began to wonder whether Andrée had been murdered. When there was one murder connected with the house, you began to think there might be another. “We’re living in shocking times, Miss Lucinda. And where could she have got to?”
I spoke to my father.
“We must do something about Andrée,” I said. “They will start a rumor and it will spread in no time. We’ll have to think of something.”
My father agreed. “I’ll take up the matter,” he said. “By the way, we’ve got them all. Von Durrenstein himself. It’s our best bit of luck for a long time. They were in a house in Battersea, having some sort of conference. She led us right to them.”
“That was what was hoped would happen.”
“I’ve seen Bourdon. He’s been working hard underground ever since the start of this war. It’s a great triumph for him.”
“What will become of Andrée?”
“The fate of all trapped spies, I suppose. There may be a murder charge, too, against Reichter. They’re all accomplices, of course…all guilty. That will be sorted out. I doubt the public will ever hear the truth. Annabelinda’s murder will be one of those unsolved crimes.”
“Lots of people will be careful about viewing empty houses, I suppose.”
“Inevitably.”
“What are we going to tell the servants about Andrée?”
“I’ll consult with the powers. I agree, we should think of something to stop talk. We can’t have people just walking out of the house and never being heard of again.”
He very soon came up with the solution. Andrée had had a message from the French Embassy to communicate with them without delay. Her brother was dying and they had arranged for her to leave immediately. A message had been sent to my father explaining all this. There had been a little delay in his receiving it, but Andrée was now with her brother. We did not know when she would come back.
It was not very convincing, but after the first reaction of incredulity, the story was accepted. The fact that it was wartime, when the most extraordinary things could happen, was a help, and in a week or so Andrée’s disappearance ceased to be the main topic of conversation.
It was different with Edward.
“Where is Andrée?” he asked.
I told him she had gone to her home to see her brother.
“This is her home,” he insisted.
“Oh, no. She had a home before she came here.”
“Are we going there?”
“No. We shall stay here.”
“When is she coming back?”
I fell back on the old vague answer which had become a byword since Mr. Asquim’s famous statement: “We shall have to wait and see.”
But he continued to ask about her. He cried a little when he went to bed. “Want Andrée,” he said.
I would kiss and cuddle him, telling him stories until he slept. It amazed me that a woman who had been involved in the murder of his mother could have become so dear to him. He had seen Annabelinda only a few times and she had made no impression on him, apart from her hat; and yet he mourned Andrée.
I used to say to him, “Never mind. You have me…and all of them at Marchlands. You have Billy Boy there, and Mrs. Cherry and everyone here.”
“I know,” he said. “But I really want Andrée, too.”
I spent more time with him, but he continued to ask for her.
Victory
AS WE ADVANCED THROUGH the year, the aspect of the war began to change.
It was September and the great Allied attack had begun. There was a feeling of lightheartedness in the air, and with the passing of each day the news grew better.
We knew now that what we had been longing for over the last four years was about to happen.
Then came that November—darkish misty days, yet brighter than the days had been for years, made hopeful by the news.
If only Robert were home, how happy I could have been, but my fears were still with me. I longed to see him. I wanted to tell him how foolish I had been to hesitate, to have been swayed this way and that when I should have known full well that he was the one for me. How could I ever have doubted it? I was now obsessed by a terrible fear that he might not come back. They were still fighting out there. Oh, why would they not stop! Was it not now almost all over? How tragic it would be if anything happened to him now.
I prayed for him. I wanted the chance to tell him how much I loved him. These last years had made me realize that.
My father came home in a state of great excitement. Germany was in revolt. They had given in. The Kaiser had fled to Holland.
The Armistice was signed at eleven o’clock on the eleventh day of November. “The eleventh day of the eleventh month” as everyone was saying. A day to remember for the rest of our lives. The war was over.
There was rejoicing in the streets. Flags hung from windows; bunting was strung across the streets; and the bells rang out. People crowded onto the streets. There was the sound of music everywhere; bands were playing patriotic marches and barrel organs rolled out their tinkling tunes.
There was euphoria everywhere except among those to whom victory had come too late.
Mrs. Cherry said the servants all wanted to go out to join the throng and I said they must. She and Mr. Cherry wouldn’t mind taking a turn out there themselves. At a time like this, it didn’t seem right to be left out of it.
Marcus called. He was exuberant.
“What a great day this is!” he cried. “You’ll have to join in the general rejoicing.”
My father said that Marcus was right. He suggested that we go out and celebrate. It would be amusing to go to the Ritz or the Savoy for a meal.
We went into the drawing room for a while and talked about the cessation of hostilities, and fell to wondering how long it would be before the men came home.
“It is good to know the firing has actually stopped at eleven o’clock this morning,” said my father. “That will put a stop to the senseless slaughter.”
He added that we should drink to victory, and while we were doing this a messenger arrived for him. His presence was required elsewhere.
It was an accepted rule in the household that we never asked questions about anything connected with his work.
Marcus said, “I shall do my best to entertain Lucinda, and perhaps you will be able to join us later.”
My father thought that he might be detained for some time, so he would not arrange to meet us.
“It would be no use to make a rendezvous,” he said. “I daresay the restaurants will be crowded tonight with the whole of London wanting to celebrate.”