The Lavender Garden (15 page)

“Yes, I understand.”

“Now, you will hurry to prepare yourself, and as soon as possible you must join the party in the drawing room. In the meantime, I shall tell Édouard what we’ve discussed when he comes to collect his younger sister, whose name is Sophia, and escort her downstairs. Please, do not fail us this evening. It’s imperative those gathered here tonight suspect nothing. Otherwise”—Sarah sighed again as she rose from the chaise longue—“all is lost for the de la Martinièreses.”

“I promise to do my best,” Connie managed.

“We will all have to pray that you do.”

•  •  •

Twenty minutes later, Connie stood in front of the closed drawing-room door. As Sarah had suggested, she sent up a prayer, opened the door, and walked in.

“Constance!” Immediately, Édouard moved away from the crowd in the room and kissed her warmly on both cheeks. “Are you sufficiently
recovered from the rigors of your journey? You certainly look as though you are,” Édouard added admiringly.

“I am.” Connie knew that her physical appearance at least was the best it had ever been. Sarah had done an excellent job with her hair, then applied makeup, before helping Connie into an exquisite evening dress—made, Connie noticed, by Monsieur Dior. Borrowed diamonds at her ears and her throat completed her disguise.

“Come, let me introduce you to my friends.” Édouard offered Connie his arm, and as she walked toward the men, a sea of uniforms she’d been trained to identify were directly in her vision.

“Hans, may I introduce you to my dear cousin Constance Chapelle, who has graced us with her lovely presence for a short stay in Paris. Constance, may I present Kommandant Hans Leidinger.”

Constance felt the eyes of the enormous man, dressed in what she knew was the uniform of a high-ranking Abwehr—a German officer in military intelligence—appraise her.

“Fräulein Chapelle, I am pleased to meet another charming member of Édouard’s family.”

“Colonel Falk von Wehndorf.” Édouard had moved on to the next man, the latter in the uniform of the dreaded Gestapo.

Von Wehndorf was the picture-perfect blond Aryan male. He glanced up and down her body with undisguised interest. Instead of shaking Connie’s proffered hand, he took it to his mouth and kissed it. His pale blue eyes bored into hers for an instant, before he said in perfect French, “Fräulein Chapelle, where has your cousin Édouard been hiding you away?”

The words, innocently spoken, triggered immediate panic in Connie.

“Colonel von Wehndorf . . .”

“Please, we’re all friends here, call me Falk—if I may call you Constance?”

“Of course.” Connie gave what she hoped was her most enchanting smile. “He has not been hiding me, I merely live down in the south and find the journey to Paris arduous.”

“Where in the south does your family live?”

But Édouard was already introducing her to the next man, who was clad in the uniform of the SS—the German State Police.

“Excuse me.” Connie lowered her eyes from Falk and turned her attention to Kommandant Choltitz.

“
À bientôt
, Fräulein Constance,” she heard Falk say softly behind her.

A glass of champagne was thrust into her hand by Édouard as she met another three German officers and a high-ranking official from the French Milice. She was then introduced to two Frenchmen, one a lawyer and the other a professor, whose wife, Lilian, was the only other woman present. Nerves jangling, Connie took a hefty gulp of her champagne and prayed Édouard would have the foresight to place her at the table next to the safety of her fellow countrymen.

“
Mesdames et messieurs
, please, pass through to the dining room. I will go to collect my sister,” said Édouard, leading the way to the drawing-room door.

Sandwiching herself as subtly as she could between the French professor and his wife, Connie walked through to the dining room. Sarah indicated her place at the table. She sat down, relieved to see the professor was on one side of her and the lawyer, standing behind a chair, on the other. Then Sarah moved swiftly toward the lawyer, just as he was about to take his seat. She whispered something in his ear, and the lawyer moved off immediately to the other side of the table. Connie found Falk von Wehndorf, the German Gestapo officer, suddenly next to her.

“Fräulein Constance, I hope it will not offend you that I asked to be next to you for dinner tonight,” he said with a smile. “It’s not often I have the pleasure of such a beautiful woman as a table companion. Now, we must have more champagne.” Falk signaled to Sarah, who hurried forward with the bottle as Édouard entered the dining room.

On his arm was a beautiful young woman: Sophia, Connie remembered, Édouard’s sister. Tiny, almost doll-like in her perfection, Sophia was wearing a midnight-blue evening dress that accentuated the creaminess of her unblemished skin and piercing turquoise eyes. Her blond hair was coiled into a chignon, her swanlike neck adorned with a necklace of blue sapphires.

As Édouard guided her to the table, Connie noticed Sophia’s arms reach out and search for the chair, her delicate fingers tracing the wooden back of it. Sitting down, she smiled at the assembled company.

“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to welcome all of you here again to our home.”

She spoke in a low, musical voice, with the impeccable French of the aristocracy.

Many of the assembled company muttered an affectionate greeting to her in return.

“And, Cousin Constance . . . Édouard tells me you have finally arrived safely with us.” Sophia’s turquoise eyes did not turn toward Connie as she said this.

“Yes, and I’m glad to see you looking so well,” Connie answered blandly.

Sophia’s blank gaze turned in the direction of Connie’s voice and she offered Connie a dazzling smile. “And we will have much to catch up on, I’m sure.”

Connie watched as Sophia’s neighbor engaged her in conversation. Yet still her eyes did not focus on his face as she talked to him.

With a sudden jolt, Connie realized that Sophia de la Martinières was blind.

Connie saw Édouard’s eyes flick toward her and Falk von Wehndorf, registering the alteration of the table plan. Édouard himself sat on the opposite side of the table to Constance, surrounded by the Germans.

“First, a toast. This dinner is held in honor of the thirty-fifth birthday of our guest and friend Falk von Wehndorf.” The table held their glasses in readiness. “To you, Falk.”

“To Falk!” came the chorus of voices.

Falk gave a mock bow. “And to our host, Comte Édouard de la Martinières, for throwing this party. And it seems,” Falk said, glancing sideways at Connie, “that he has also provided me with an unexpected birthday present. To Fräulein Constance, who joins us tonight from the south for this occasion.”

Connie held her nerve as every eye at the table fell upon her. Never had she imagined that her arrival in Paris would be toasted by a group of Nazi officers. She took a sip of champagne, knowing she must keep her wits about her and drink no more. She was grateful as Sarah began to serve the first course and the attention in the room slipped away from her.

•  •  •

In the future, when Connie looked back to her first evening in Occupied Paris, she was convinced that someone had been watching over her. The professor on her left lectured at the Sorbonne, and so she was able, in front of the persistent attention of Falk, to give a true and honest account of her time there. The conversation gave credence to her cover, and she noticed Édouard’s approving eyes upon her as she managed to circumnavigate questions from Falk and use her charm to divert him with smiles and glances.

At the end of the evening, as the German officers were leaving, Falk again took her hand and kissed it. “Fräulein, I have enjoyed your company very much this evening. I have learned that not only are you beautiful, but clever.” He nodded approvingly. “And I like clever women. How long are you in Paris?”

“I’ve taken no decision,” she answered honestly.

“Constance will be staying with us for as long as she pleases.” Édouard came to the rescue as he ushered the men to the door and said good night himself.

“Then I hope it will be my pleasure to see you again. And very soon.
Heil Hitler!
” With a last glance at her from his pale blue eyes, Falk followed the other men out the front door. It shut behind them and Édouard himself locked and bolted it.

Standing in the hall, her ordeal over, Connie felt all the energy drain from her body. Her legs turned to jelly and she staggered suddenly. Édouard was there to catch her and put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

“Come, Constance,” he said as he steered her toward the back of the house, “you must be exhausted. We’ll take a brandy before bed.” He signaled to Sarah, who was hovering in the corridor. “Please bring a tray into the sitting room.”

Connie sat down gratefully on the sofa, so tired she felt catatonic. Édouard surveyed her for a while as Sarah brought in the tray of brandy. Once his glass had been filled and Sarah had left the room, he lifted it toward her. “Congratulations, Constance. You were magnificent tonight.” She saw him smile properly for the first time, his handsome face suddenly alive.

“Thank you,” she said weakly as she garnered the energy to lift the brandy glass to her lips.

“Perhaps all there is to say is”—Édouard smiled again—“welcome to our family.”

They both chuckled at his remark. And as the dreadful tension of the evening released itself, they laughed until they wept at the coup they had pulled off.

“Ah, Constance, you cannot know the shock when you appeared on the doorstep. I thought all was lost. A house full of high-ranking Milice, Gestapo, and Abwehr officers, and a lost SOE agent appears here in full view of them all to see me!”

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw their uniforms in the drawing room.” Connie shook her head in horror at the memory.

“We’ll talk tomorrow about how this happened,” said Édouard. “But for now, I can only extend my grateful thanks to you for rising to the challenge and giving a spectacular performance. Of course, God was on our side tonight in many things. Your background made it easy for everyone to believe you’re a member of our family.”

“On the SOE training course”—Connie giggled—“I was warned time and again that I spoke French in a way that would mark me out as bourgeoise. It would not be suitable for my cover as a schoolteacher from Paris. They said I betrayed too many airs and graces, and I did all I could to remove them.”

“Well, your background came to our rescue tonight. And it seems you have an admirer.” Édouard’s face became suddenly taut. “He’s one of the few Nazis I know who comes from an aristocratic family himself. But don’t be lulled into a false sense of security by him. Falk von Wehndorf is one of the most lethal and deadly men of all those currently running Paris. He’s merciless when it comes to exposing the traitors to the Nazi cause. It was he who was mainly responsible for rounding up many of the members of the network you came here to join.”

A shiver ran down Connie’s spine. “I see,” she said grimly. “He’s certainly well educated and seems to love France.”

“He appreciates the history, culture, and elegance of our country, but covets it for himself and his motherland. That makes him even more dangerous. He also, as we both saw tonight”—Édouard raised his eyebrows—“appreciates our women. And if he desires you . . . well, we’ll talk of the future tomorrow.” Édouard put his glass down, stood up, and walked over to her, patting her shoulder. “All you need
to know for tonight is that you’re safe in Paris with us and can sleep peacefully and well in that knowledge.” Édouard offered his elbow. “Shall we retire?”

“Yes.” Connie stifled a yawn as she stood. They walked along the corridor and upstairs to the landing.

“Good night, Cousin Constance.” Édouard smiled.

“Good night, Édouard.”

Having divested herself of her jewelry and clothes, Connie climbed into the large, comfortable bed. A wave of exhaustion washed over her and she fell deeply and gratefully asleep.

•  •  •

She awoke with a jump the following morning, disoriented for a moment as she looked around the room. Remembering where she was, Connie lay back on the soft pillows with a sigh. Checking the time on her watch, she saw that it was past ten o’clock. She put her hand to her mouth in dismay. Never in her life had she slept in this late. Climbing out of bed, she opened her suitcase and donned the plain blouse and skirt that had been deemed suitable by F Section as part of her schoolteacher wardrobe. Tidying her hair hastily in the mirror, she went downstairs to find Édouard or Sophia.

“The comte is in his library, madame,” said Sarah, catching her along the hall. “He said for you to join him there when you awoke. Can I bring you some breakfast on a tray?”

“Just coffee would be wonderful, thank you,” said Connie, her stomach still full from the sumptuous dinner of the night before. Ration coupons were obviously not a requirement in this house. She followed Sarah to a door, knocked, and entered.

Édouard was sitting in a comfortable leather chair in the library, which was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. He looked up from his newspaper as she came in.

“Good morning, Constance, please take a seat.” He indicated a chair on the other side of the fireplace.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting down. “What a wonderful collection of books you have in here.” She glanced admiringly at the shelves.

“Inherited from my father, but my passion too. I intend to extend it, if I can. So many thousands of books have been burned across Europe
by the Nazis, this collection is even more precious than it was.” Édouard gave a deep sigh and roused himself. Connie could see he looked drained and serious this morning, with none of the ebullience of last night. Studying him in daylight and seeing the fine lines on his face, she guessed he must be in his midthirties.

“So, Constance, I would like you to tell me in detail the circumstances which led up to you knocking at my front door last night.”

Connie explained how the courier she was meant to meet at Montparnasse station had not materialized and how she had gone to the address that Stefan had given her on the Rue de Rennes.