Gift from the Sea (19 page)

She gathered her strength to continue through the pressure of Stefan’s hand grasping hers. She did not know when he had reached out to her, taken her hand and held on, but she realized that for everyone in the room there was no scandal in the act.

Jeanne took up the story, explaining her husband’s role in the resistance and her own decision to continue his work with Frederick’s help. She gave the details of the comedy of errors that included the famous blue scarf and umbrella, and when she was finished, the crackle of the burning logs and the ticking of the grandfather clock were the only sounds in the room.

“I don’t know what comes now,” Maggie said. “That is surely in the hands of you and others, but Stefan has always placed his trust in his faith, Reverend. It has carried him this far, and I believe that whatever happens next is for some purpose of God’s that we may never fully understand.”

The women of the church looked to the minister for direction. But Reverend McAllister’s boyish features were in turmoil, his mouth working even as his eyes cast wildly about the room as if looking for some sign to guide his next steps.

“Stefan Witte is in your custody, Reverend,” Lucie said, coming to his aid. “Whatever happens next, he is of no danger to this community. You have only to decide if you believe him. Ask yourself, if this were one of our native sons telling this story, would we not do whatever was necessary to see that he had the opportunity to deliver his news to the appropriate authorities?”

Reverend McAllister bowed his head for a long moment.

“Stefan has lost everything to come here,” Maggie reminded him. “His family is gone and he has abandoned his country. He can never go home again, Reverend. Think of it—what he knows was important enough to risk everything.”

The minister raised his head and walked over to Stefan. “I have never witnessed such courage, such a pure act of faith,” he said huskily. “May God bless you. But if you have deceived these good people and placed them in peril
of losing their reputation, their livelihood, and indeed the only home they’ve known, then only God can forgive you.”

The phone in the lobby jangled.

“It might be the ambassador,” Jeanne cried and ran to answer the telephone, with Frederick close behind.

“The duchess has been trying to reach her friend, the former U.S. ambassador to Austria-Hungary, all evening,” Mama explained. “The ambassador has powerful connections in Washington and if we can persuade him to see Stefan, to hear what he has to say, perhaps this will all not have been in vain after all.”

“It has not been in vain,” Stefan assured her. “For I have met you and your husband. I have known your kindness, witnessed your courage in the face of certain censure from your friends and neighbors. And I have had the rare gift of Maggie’s care and comfort for these precious days. I thank you and bless you, Mrs. Hunter. You and your husband and the Chadwicks.”

Mama blinked back tears as she turned to Mrs. Pritchard. “Eleanor, I believe you and the ladies here came to pray? Shall we get on with it?”

Eleanor Pritchard bristled as she always did whenever Lucie Hunter dared speak to her with such authority. After all, Mrs. Pritchard was a member of one of the oldest families on Nantucket, while Lucie Hunter was an Irish immigrant who had been little more than a servant to Gabriel’s parents before she’d managed to mesmerize Gabriel into marrying her.

She glared at Lucie and the stony gaze of disapproval told Maggie that the emotional tale of Stefan’s journey had not had a lasting effect on her. “Our prayers might better be offered on behalf of your daughter, Lucie, or have you
completely abandoned your parental authority where she is concerned?” She turned to Maggie while continuing to address Lucie. “You are aware that she thinks she is in love with this man.”

“Maggie is no longer a girl. She is a woman capable of making her own decisions and choices. In this case I believe she has made the right choice, but make no mistake that her father and I would stand by her under any circumstances.”

Mrs. Pritchard’s mouth worked as if she were chewing something bitter, and she turned her attention to Jeanne, who had just hung up the telephone and returned to the circle gathered around Stefan. “Your Grace,” Eleanor exclaimed, “surely you…”

Jeanne ignored the woman and went straight to Stefan. “The ambassador is sending his secretary first thing tomorrow accompanied by a military detail. If the secretary believes you, then he’ll take you to meet with the ambassador and perhaps on to Washington.” She glanced at the others. “Until then, we are all under house arrest, but things could be ever so much worse.”

“If need be, I’ll go to Washington with you,” Maggie assured Stefan.

Mrs. Pritchard fairly exploded before anyone else could say a word. “You are an unmarried woman, Margaret Rose Hunter. Surely you can appreciate that traveling with a man—especially this man—is most unseemly.”

“Oh, Eleanor, dear, how caring of you, but should matters come to that, our Maggie will be well chaperoned,” Jeanne said with a laugh. “Aside from myself and the duke’s nephew, there will be an entire military guard.”

“Your Grace, you have spent much time in Europe, where such situations are handled more…freely, by all
reports. Here in America a woman simply does not travel with a man of eligible age unless they are married.”

“Then perhaps they should marry before we leave,” Jeanne replied. “We could make it a double wedding, with Frederick and myself as the other couple. For surely, my dear, if you disapprove of Maggie’s behavior, the fact that Frederick and I have been traveling together for several months now must seem an absolute scandal.”

Mrs. Pritchard blushed scarlet. Again her mouth was working, this time seeking words that would have her stand her ground without offending the duchess.

“This is hardly the time or place to discuss weddings,” Lucie reminded them.

“It will be light in a few hours,” Frederick said when the silence became uncomfortable as the church women glanced warily to the minister for guidance. “And the day promises to be one that will demand the highest level of faith and strength each of us can muster. May I suggest we each pass these last few hours in prayer and silent communion?”

“Yes. Very good,” Reverend McAllister replied. “Perhaps the ladies might make use of your library to rest, Mrs. Hunter?”

“Of course. Sarah, please make them comfortable.”

It was obvious to Maggie that the church women—Mrs. Pritchard in particular—were reluctant to risk missing any further action that might take place in the sitting room. Nevertheless they obediently followed Sarah across the hall. Reverend McAllister took the chair closest to Stefan and leaned forward, his hands folded in prayer, his head bowed, as he murmured verses from scripture.

Mama persuaded Jeanne to go with her to prepare for the arrival of the ambassador’s secretary. And Frederick sat
down at the piano and began playing a Chopin sonata, the music further dispelling the tension that had filled the room just minutes earlier. Maggie sat on the floor, her head resting on the sofa inches from Stefan’s hand. After a moment she felt his hand resting lightly on her hair. It felt like a blessing, and she closed her eyes and let the minister’s words and the music lull her to sleep.

But her respite was short-lived. By midmorning, having traveled overnight by military transport, the secretary arrived and with him what seemed to Maggie an entire regiment of soldiers. Four soldiers immediately surrounded Stefan, who was now up and moving forward to greet the ambassador at Jeanne’s insistence.

“Oh, gentlemen, do be at ease,” Jeanne insisted, favoring the young men with one of her most radiant smiles. But the soldiers continued to close in on Stefan and seemed prepared to physically take hold of him. Their senior officer muttered a command and they backed away.

The small man dressed in civilian clothing stepped forward. “I am the ambassador’s personal secretary, Percy Walls,” he announced, and Maggie saw that he was in no mood for socializing, having barely acknowledged Jeanne’s assurance that she and the ambassador were dear old friends. He focused his attention on Stefan. “Tell me two things about Germany to demonstrate that whatever information you have is genuine and that the ambassador will not be wasting his time hearing what you have to say,” he demanded, ignoring the hand Stefan had extended.

Stefan straightened as he might have if he’d been faced with his own commanding officer. “Last year’s crops failed owing to drought, and this was followed by excessive rain,” he reported. “By Christmas the citizens of Berlin
were completely without bread or potatoes and the same was true of other towns across the country.”

Maggie watched Percy Walls closely and saw a flicker of admiration cross his eyes before he turned away. “That’s hardly secret information,” he challenged. “There are published reports of the shortages.”

“The ministers of agriculture ordered reports to the public altered to say that the situation was ‘average.’ However, a majority of the experts had advised that it was an alarming shortage at best and dire at worst,” Stefan added, his voice clipped and precise as it would be were he testifying at a trial.

“What else?” the secretary asked as he moved to the window and pretended an interest in the view of the sea.

Maggie saw a ghost of a smile cross Stefan’s lips. “There is much else to be told, sir, but you must understand that I need certain assurances.”

“And you must understand that I have no authority to offer such assurances,” Walls replied. “When we are done here, you will be in the custody of these soldiers. I will take your information and have it authenticated, if possible. After that…” He shrugged and Maggie thought she might actually physically attack the pompous little man.

“You can’t do that,” Maggie blurted before anyone else could speak.

“Maggie, dear, please,” Jeanne pleaded.

“No. Stefan has risked everything to bring our government this information. You can’t expect him to trust that you’ll do as you say.”

“Maggie!”

Walls looked down at her from over the tops of his glasses. “Young woman, I do not know your part in this,
but I should be very careful if I were you not to end up identified as an accomplice.”

“I am his accomplice,” Maggie said, and it was as if all the air had been sucked from the room as everyone fell silent and stared at her with disbelief.

“You are confessing to being a traitor?” The secretary spoke slowly as if he wanted to be sure she understood every word. The soldiers seemed to close in without taking a step.

“Absolutely not,” Maggie began. “I am saying that…”

“Come now,” Frederick interrupted, stepping to Walls’s side and clapping him lightly on the back. “It has been a long and exhausting night, sir. No one has slept and understandably emotions are running high. I give you my word that this man’s information could be invaluable.”

“You know what he has to offer then?”

Frederick swallowed. “Not exactly,” he admitted.

Tell him, Maggie thought, casting glances from Frederick to Jeanne and back again. Tell him that you are with the resistance, that you know Stefan to be exactly what he says he is. Tell him.

“Now, Mr. Walls,” Jeanne said, her voice oozing sweetness as she took the man’s arm and led him a little away from the others. She spoke to him in such low tones that no one else could make out a word of what she said. Not that Mrs. Pritchard didn’t try.

“Speak up, your Grace,” she said when the secrecy became unbearable. “We are all at sixes and sevens here with this matter.”

Jeanne escorted the secretary back to the center of the room, where he once again ignored everyone but Stefan.

“The duchess has suggested what might be a workable plan. Write out the information you have, seal the envelope
so there can be no question of tampering and I will carry it to Washington myself.”

Maggie was confused. Nothing had changed. She looked imploringly at Jeanne, who actually winked at her and held up one finger as if to say,
Wait for the rest.

“In the meantime,” Walls continued, still addressing Stefan, “you—and the rest of you—will remain here under house arrest and under the constant guard of Captain Swann’s force.”

“Thank you, sir,” Stefan said and pushed himself to a standing position to once again offer the secretary his hand. This time Percy Walls accepted it.

“No tricks,” he warned. “It is my understanding that you have used up all of the goodwill these people have freely offered and then some.”

“Yes, sir,” Stefan replied. “You have my word.”

A snort from the corner of the room stated more clearly than any words what Mrs. Pritchard thought of that.

“Ma’am?” Captain Swann stepped forward and addressed Lucie. “I wonder if I might have a look around the premises. My men and I will need to set up a campsite and choose the best accommodations for keeping watch over our prisoner.”

Sean stepped forward. “I’ll show you around, Captain.”

When they were gone, Lucie pulled out the chair next to her small secretary and lowered the writing surface. “Sit here, Stefan.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Stefan assured her as he handed the envelope to Percy. “The information is here, sir.”

Maggie glanced around the room. The scene before her was like some stage setting. There was Stefan, standing by her mother’s desk, calmly waiting for the captain to complete
his tour and decide where to hold him. Sean was explaining the various entrances and exits to the inn, while Mama and Sarah had headed for the kitchen to prepare food for the soldiers. The aforementioned soldiers had stationed themselves around the entrance to the parlor and the front door, obviously prepared to go into immediate action should Stefan decide to make a break for it. Jeanne and Frederick were cornered with the secretary around the telephone at the end of the hall as he called Washington to give his report. And then there was the minister and the women of the church, who seemed unsure of what their new roles might be.