Love Wins In Berlin Read online

  As the Marquis somewhat reluctantly placed his arm round her waist she added,

  “I told you that we match each other on the dance floor and in a great many other more exciting ways as well.”

  It was quite clear to him what she meant by ‘exciting ways’ and he felt even more strongly than he had felt earlier in the evening that he was being pushed. It was all too soon and too obvious.

  So much for the German way of doing things at the double and not giving a man time to think.

  He withdrew his hand from the Countess’s and raised it to his mouth as if to prevent a yawn.

  “To tell you the truth,” he ventured, “I would have enjoyed this party more, if it had taken place tomorrow night. I am tired after my travels and although I slept aboard my yacht last night, I did not sleep very well.”

  “The sea was rough?” the Countess enquired.

  “It was indeed,” the Marquis replied untruthfully, “and I always find a train journey exhausting.”

  “So do I,” the Countess agreed, “which is something else we have in common.”

  She gave a little sigh.

  “I can understand, my dear Marquis, that tonight you need your beauty sleep. But tomorrow is another day, when I shall have so much to say to you and so much to learn from you.”

  The Marquis thought he had pulled that one off rather successfully, but at the same time he disliked the way the Countess was looking at him.

  He was quite certain that she regarded him as a fish that had taken the bait and could not escape.

  A quarter of an hour before midnight the young officers left for their barracks and this was an excuse for the others to leave as well.

  As she started to say goodbye to her guests, the Baroness turned to her daughter and said,

  “Karoline, I think you and Simona should go to bed at once. You have many exciting plans for tomorrow and I do not want either of you to be over-tired.”

  “Very well, Mama,” Karoline agreed obediently. “It has been such a lovely evening.”

  She turned to bid farewell to one particular young man she had been dancing with more than anyone else and Simona heard him telling her that he wanted to see her again. He would call tomorrow afternoon and hoped she would be at home.

  “Wherever we go for luncheon,” Karoline responded eagerly, “we will be back by four o’clock, so do come for tea.”

  “I will very happily accept,” he replied.

  Simona was halfway up the stairs when Karoline joined her.

  “It has been a wonderful evening,” Karoline enthused, “and everyone thought you looked so lovely.”

  “I thought the band was excellent,” Simona said.

  “It is the first time they have been here, and I am sure that Papa will engage them again.”

  As they reached their rooms, Karoline kissed Simona and said, “it is so lovely having you to stay and we have so many more thrilling adventures to plan.”

  “I am looking forward to every one of them,” Simona replied.

  She walked to her own bedroom which was next to Karoline’s. As she opened her door, she looked back to see the Marquis coming up the stairs.

  He turned at the top and walked in the opposite direction. Standing just inside the doorway of her bedroom, Simona watched him until he opened a door at the far end of the corridor.

  As the Marquis entered his room, a maid peeped out on the other side of the passage as if she was looking for someone.

  Simona guessed that she was the lady’s maid to the Countess which meant that the Countess was sleeping directly opposite the Marquis.

  As the Marquis closed the door of his bedroom behind him, Simona was sure that his valet would be inside waiting for him. She knew that at home her father’s valet always waited for him and her mother’s lady’s maid would be similarly in attendance.

  The same system would apply in this house, except that as she had arrived without a lady’s maid, she was sharing Karoline’s.

  She entered her bedroom and a few minutes later there was a knock on the door and Karoline’s maid came in to undo her gown.

  “You must be tired,” Simona said in her best German. “I am afraid we are very late this evening.”

  “I often have to wait up late, Fraulein,” the maid replied, “but one gets used to it. I am sure that neither you nor Fraulein Karoline will wish to be called too early tomorrow morning.”

  “That is true,” Simona smiled, “and thank you for your help.”

  The maid hung her gown in the wardrobe saying as she did so,

  “Everyone below stairs has been saying that you were the prettiest lady at the dinner table tonight and I can assure you, Fraulein, they are very critical.”

  “I can hardly believe that,” Simona replied, “when the Countess von Tassen looked so fantastic.”

  “Oh, her!” the maid exclaimed scornfully. “We all hear a great deal about her and most of it’s not to her advantage.”

  “Why not?” Simona asked.

  The maid looked towards the door as if she was afraid someone might be listening.

  Then she lowered her voice.

  “She is a bad Frau, very bad and, she should not be allowed into a respectable house like this.” Simona was astonished.

  It was what she had felt herself, but she did not expect the German maid to think so too.

  As if she felt she had said too much, the maid added,

  “That is something I should not say, Fraulein, and I beg of you not to repeat it to the Baroness or Fraulein Karoline.”

  “No, of course not. Anything you say to me, Maria, is a secret.”

  The maid smiled at her.

  Walking towards the door she bade Simona goodnight, saying, “May the angels watch over you because, Fraulein, you look like one.”

  Simona smiled to herself.

  At the same time she was surprised that Maria had been so outspoken about the Countess.

  ‘She must be a very bad woman for Maria to say so much,’ she thought.

  Again she was worrying about the Marquis.

  He might not understand what was going on and after all the Countess was very beautiful.

  ‘I must warn him,’ she told herself still wondering how it was possible. Suppose that tonight he visited the Countess’s room?

  It seemed incredible that he should contemplate anything so forward on such a short acquaintance.

  Yet if he did, she might wheedle out of him the secret of the gun that the Baron and Karl were so interested in.

  ‘I must somehow prevent him from going to her tonight,’ Simona told herself.

  She wondered again how she could.

  Although there had not been time to explore much of the house, she remembered something that Karoline had told her.

  Every room on the guest floor where she was sleeping had its own sitting room attached.

  “You mean what we would call a boudoir,” Simona had asked. “In England only the most important guests are given one, and perhaps in big houses there are one or two for their most distinguished visitors.”

  “My grandfather who built this house,” Karoline said, “wanted it to be as imposing as a palace. I am sure he visualised it full of aristocrats who would need a sitting room where they could write letters and read. And of course to receive anyone who wanted to talk to them privately.”

  Because she had only just arrived and had so much to think about and see, Simona had not yet opened the communicating door of her bedroom.

  She picked up an oil lamp from the table and carried it with her. The sitting room was as large as her bedroom and well furnished. There were even two or three pictures on the walls which Simona was sure were painted by great artists.

  She opened a door on the other side of the room, which she thought would lead into another bedroom and was not mistaken.

  It was a bedroom almost identical to her own with a communicating door on the other side.

  Simona crossed the room she had
just entered.

  She continued walking from bedroom to sitting room and into the next bedroom without having to step into the corridor.

  As she reached what must have been the seventh or eighth room from her bedroom, she thought she could hear voices.

  She stopped beside the communicating door.

  With a feeling of shock she thought that she was too late, as she realised that the man she could hear was the Marquis and he was speaking in English.

  She held her breath as she listened for someone to answer him. Then to her relief it was not a woman’s voice, but a man’s.

  “I hopes yer have all yer wants, my Lord,” the man said. “And what time does your Lordship wish to be called?”

  “Eight o’clock will suit me fine,” the Marquis replied, “and I hope, Dorkins, that they are looking after you properly.”

  “I mustn’t grumble, my Lord,” Dorkins replied,” but them Germans stuff themselves like pigs, and there ain’t many pretty manners below stairs, I can tell yer.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “I have heard that before, but as you well know we must not complain.”

  “No, of course not, my Lord, and I’m keeping me ears open.”

  “I thought you would,” the Marquis said.

  Simona heard Dorkins walk into the passage.

  “Goodnight, my Lord,” he called as he opened the door.

  “Goodnight, Dorkins.”

  She heard the door close and realised that the Marquis was now alone. She thought perhaps he was only waiting until Dorkins was out of sight.

  Then he could cross the passage to the Countess’s room.

  Simona was desperately afraid of losing him, so she placed the lamp onto a table and tapped gently on the door.

  She had no idea that the Marquis stiffened on hearing her knock.

  He was thinking, although it seemed incredible, that the Countess was breaking all the unwritten rules of the etiquette of conducting a liaison. She had ventured to his room rather than wait for him, if indeed he intended to do so, to visit her.

  The door opened slowly.

  He saw it was not the Countess who stood before him, but Simona. He stared at her in sheer astonishment.

  Her fair hair, long and curled at the ends, was falling over her shoulders and she was looking enchanting. She was wearing an elegant dressing gown which matched the colour of her eyes and was trimmed with white lace.

  As he stared at her without speaking, she walked cautiously into his bedroom shutting the communicating door behind her.

  The Marquis exclaimed,

  “Miss Bell, what on earth are you doing here?”

  Simona put her finger to her lips.

  He was wearing a long, dark robe which was frogged across the chest to give him a military appearance. Because her father wore a similar garment, Simona knew it was his dressing gown.

  Once again it flashed through her mind that he was just about to cross the passage to the Countess.

  She walked quickly until she reached him.

  Taking her finger from her lips, she whispered,” I have something to tell you, something of great importance, which is why I am here.”

  “As you should not be,” the Marquis responded almost sharply. At the same time because she had whispered, he spoke in a low voice.

  “I have something to tell you,” Simona repeated,” but I could not approach you this evening. I had to come to you before it was too late.”

  As she spoke the last words she looked over her shoulder towards the door.

  The Marquis indicated that he understood what she was trying to tell him. Without replying he crossed the room and turned the key in the lock of the door that led into the corridor.

  Simona did not move.

  When he returned to her, the Marquis took her by the arm and led her to the far end of the room by a large window where the curtains had been drawn back and she could see the moon and stars filling the sky.

  “Now,” he said in an almost normal voice, “we can talk without being heard or interrupted.”

  He could tell by the expression on Simona’s face that she was frightened.

  “Now what is it that you want to tell me?” the Marquis asked gently.

  “I am afraid,” Simona began, not looking straight at him, “that you will be shocked when I tell you I was eavesdropping in a place where I should not have been. At the same time because I feel it is important to England, and perhaps, although I may be wrong, this is the reason why you are here in Berlin, that I must tell you what I have overheard.”

  The Marquis was instantly alert.

  He could not believe it possible that anything this beautiful young lady could tell him would be of any help in his quest to find Watson.

  There was just a chance, he supposed, that she had overheard something which could be of use. Yet he could not help thinking it was extremely unlikely.

  There was only one chair beneath the window, so he fetched another from beside the bed.

  Simona had sat down on the chair he indicated and when he joined her the Marquis said,

  “I think it is very kind and very brave of you to come to me, but you must not stay long. So tell me quickly why you think what you overheard could be so important.”

  Simona drew in her breath.

  “I must tell you first,” she began, “that a few days ago, when everyone was out, I entered the Baron’s ‘Sanctuary’, as it is called, because Karoline had not already showed this room to me.”

  She looked at the Marquis as if she was hoping he understood her before continuing,

  “I noticed in this room the most fascinating red lacquer Sedan chair which was quite different from anything I have ever seen.”

  “I have seen it,” the Marquis said.

  “Then you can realise why I found it so interesting,” Simona said. “As I was admiring it, I heard voices coming down the corridor.”

  She paused and the Marquis noticed the colour flood into her cheeks as she said,

  “Because I did – not want – them to find me, I slipped into the – Sedan chair and shut – the door.”

  “I can understand you doing that,” the Marquis said reassuringly. He knew as he spoke that it was what she wanted him to say.

  “It was then that the Baron began to talk to a man he called Karl.”

  “Did you say Karl?” the Marquis asked in rather a strange tone.” Yes,” Simona replied, “but I did not hear his other name.”

  “I know who he is,” the Marquis replied.

  “I thought from what he said,” Simona murmured, “that perhaps he was from the German Embassy in London.”

  “He is,” the Marquis answered, “and his full name is Count Karl Waldensee. Tell me what he said.”

  Simona closed her eyes for a moment.

  She had recalled the conversation so often in her mind, knowing that she must repeat it to the Marquis.

  Now she wanted to remember every word as clearly as possible.

  “The Baron started,” she began, by saying, ‘I am anxious to know how things are going.’ Then Karl replied, ‘not very well I am afraid. As you know, our Emperor is impatient and does not like to be kept waiting’.”

  She opened her eyes for a moment and glanced at the Marquis to see that he was listening intently.”

  Next the Baron said, “she continued, ‘you mean you have no further information about the gun?’”

  The Marquis was stunned. “Did he say ‘about the gun’?”

  “Yes, that is what he said,” Simona confirmed,” and Karl answered, ‘alas, no. How are you faring with that man Watson?’”

  Again she glanced at the Marquis who was looking at her as if he could not believe what he was hearing.

  “I felt sure that the Baron shook his head,” Simona informed him, “although I could not see him. Then he said, ‘he is extremely obstinate. Of course we keep him well guarded in the Panzer Haus in case anyone should try to take him away from us, but
so far it appears no one is particularly interested’.”

  “And how,” the Marquis demanded, “did Karl respond to that statement?”

  “He said,” Simona replied, “‘I am sure nevertheless they must be. After all I understand he was one of the main designers of the gun.’ Then the Baron added, ‘we have tried in every way possible to persuade him to give us a drawing of his work, or even an explanation of how it will perform when it is fired’.”

  “And what did Karl say to that?” the Marquis enquired.

  “Karl said, ‘he will not oblige? He pleads ignorance,’ and the Baron answered, ‘and that as you well know makes it very difficult for us to pin down or translate into anything that is of the slightest use’.”

  Simona paused again and when the Marquis did not speak she carried on,

  “Karl laughed and said, ‘you are right there, and I am finding it very difficult indeed in England to get anyone to talk’.”

  She looked at the Marquis uncertainly.

  He realised that she was perturbed and he could hardly believe that what he was hearing was the truth.

  How was it possible after all his anxiety that this young girl could tell him all he wanted to know?

  As if she felt it embarrassing, Simona looked away from him as she said,”

  The Baron next asked Karl, ‘Have you managed to meet the Marquis of Midhurst?’”

  “And what did Count Karl say to that question?” the Marquis enquired.

  “He said, ‘I have only been introduced to him at a party and I cannot – say I have – got very far in that – direction’.”

  Simona stammered over the words.

  She had left out what Karl had said about the Marquis preferring the opposite sex, which she thought sounded too intimate.

  Almost as if he had recognised what had been said about him, the Marquis asked her, “And what did the Baron say to that?”

  “He said that you were the key to the whole enterprise and he had been told on good authority that the gun was your own conception, and that you had persuaded the Prince of Wales to take a personal interest in its development.”

  The Marquis raised his hand to his forehead.

  “I can hardly believe that you are clever enough,” he said, “to tell me everything I have wanted to know! As you have guessed, this is the reason I have come to Berlin. What else did they say?”