Chapter 22
22
J ULY 1915
Inga arrived back in Berlin tired, dispirited, and afraid. She didn’t bother to unpack her suitcase, nor did anyone else. A final break in diplomatic relations was expected shortly, and they would need to leave within twenty-four hours of that happening. Everyone was packed and ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
She saw little of Benedict, who spent the next two days making the rounds at other neutral embassies. Just as the Americans served as intermediaries for the British and the French after their embassies closed, now the Americans needed to line up friendly neutral nations willing to facilitate American relations after their departure.
With all her other clothing packed, Inga wore her best traveling suit, a two-piece tailored skirt and jacket of gabardine twill in deep plum. She’d been wearing it for the past two days, and for the past two days it came to nothing. Each night she slipped out of her suit and wondered if tomorrow would be the day that America got dragged into a war nobody wanted.
On their third day back in Berlin, she once again pulled on the plum traveling suit, but she was tired of living in limbo. The kitchen was fully stocked, including two large jars of brandied cherries Mrs. Gerard gave her for Christmas.
“Let’s bake a cake,” she impulsively said to Mrs. Barnes. “If this is to be our last night at Alton House, let’s make it a glorious one.”
“That’s the spirit!” Mrs. Barnes said. “I’ve been saving a fine smoked ham for Colonel Reyes’s birthday, but who knows if we’ll still be here. Nellie, fetch the cake pans.”
And with that, Inga went into high gear alongside Nellie and Mrs. Barnes to whip up a fine meal. Everyone in the house had endured a miserable few days, worrying about something over which they had no control. Inga couldn’t make the kaiser see reason, but she could decide her own attitude, and for tonight she intended to be joyful.
She covered her suit with one of Nellie’s white aprons, then went about measuring, mixing, and baking. According to Benedict’s encyclopedia, Black Forest cake was a hallmark of Bavarian baking that made heavy use of regional produce. Lots of sour cherries, rich cream, brandy, and plenty of cocoa. Nellie whipped the cream while Inga strained the cherries, then simmered the liquid to reduce it to a heavy syrup.
Soon the kitchen smelled divine. Once the cakes were out of the oven and cooled, Inga began frosting them with swirls of whipped cream while Nellie shaved big curls of chocolate.
The front door slammed, startling her so much she dropped the knife. Somebody was shouting in the entrance hall, and thudding feet made the whole house vibrate.
Were the Germans coming to throw them out? Ransack their house like they’d done at the British Embassy? Footsteps came running down the hall toward them. Inga snatched up the frosting knife, holding it before her. What good would a knife with a rounded tip do?
Benedict strode into the kitchen, disheveled and out of breath. “Inga!” he shouted. “Unpack your bags. The Germans have caved. We’re staying.”
“What?” She gasped in disbelief, and Benedict grinned.
“The kaiser has accepted President Wilson’s demands. We’re not going to war.”
She dropped the knife and flung herself into his arms. He laughed and lifted her into the air, twirling her in a circle as the amazing news sank in. She’d never heard Benedict laugh before. The sound was rich, warm, and wonderful, for they were safe. They were safe!
Benedict set her down but didn’t release her, and before she knew it, he planted a long kiss directly on her mouth. And he didn’t draw back! His kiss lingered as he clasped her to himself, and ... well, it was all rather wonderful.
Wonderful, but he was Benedict ! She drew back to stare at him in astonishment. He seemed as stunned as she was, though hardly remorseful.
“Pardon me,” he said with a dazed smile. “I’m so relieved, and the sight of you ... I mean, it’s natural to kiss someone when you’re this happy, right?”
His humor was contagious, but the kiss still had her rattled. “I’ll bet you didn’t kiss Larry that way.”
Benedict swallowed back a laugh and struggled to regain a hint of his old formality. “You are correct, Miss Klein.” He glanced at both Mrs. Barnes and Nellie. “Please disregard the momentary lapse of judgment. I’m just ... I’m just so relieved.”
Inga couldn’t resist beaming at him. She didn’t mind the kiss. In fact, she rather liked it. Being able to puncture Benedict’s self-restraint and provoke him into a kiss like that was rather thrilling. Embarrassingly so.
“You keep your hands off our girl,” Mrs. Barnes cautioned, but she was smiling too.
That night they dined in the formal dining room. It was a rare opportunity for an unabashed celebration. Candlelight illuminated the table, and they used the best crystal and china. They toasted Colonel Reyes and Benedict in praise of their fortitude while waiting for the Germans to blink. Benedict even led them in a toast to Ambassador Gerard, who was off being wined and dined at the Swiss Embassy.
“I confess to having been skeptical of Ambassador Gerard’s confrontational tone in dealing with the Germans,” he admitted. “I’m not sure we could have won this concession without his blunt and pointed delivery. Miss Klein, I know you had legitimate worries about the scrapbook; however, it may have helped dispel the fairy tales the Germans have been telling themselves.” Benedict raised his glass. “To Miss Klein. We are in your debt.”
Her cheeks heated in stunned pleasure as everyone toasted her. Then Colonel Reyes stood with a toast for Benedict. And the giddy toasting went on and on. McFee the chauffeur praised Mrs. Barnes for managing to keep the kitchen running and stocked as food shortages began pinching the grocers in Berlin.
Larry chimed in, reaching across the table to pat Inga’s hand. “And now you can get your annulment. You can go back to legally being Miss Klein again.”
Oh, yes! The ticking time bomb had been defused, and it felt marvelous, but she needed to properly acknowledge Benedict’s heroism. She tapped a fork against her glass until she had everyone’s attention.
“Benedict, I know you didn’t want to marry me, but I will be forever grateful. Soon we will have the world’s friendliest annulment, and I wish you nothing but the best.”
“Hear, hear,” Colonel Reyes said, and everyone else joined in.
And yet ... Benedict didn’t look as pleased as she would have thought. He gave a brief nod of acknowledgment, though he didn’t raise his glass, and he didn’t smile.
Well, Benedict probably couldn’t help it. It must have been exhausting for him to smile all evening, so she sent him a radiant grin to compensate. She was grateful to Benedict, and he had been valiant in stepping up to rescue her. She put her worries about Benedict’s strange reaction to the side when Mrs. Barnes wheeled the Black Forest cake out to delighted murmurs. Somebody popped another cork.
Typically, the people in Alton House refrained from imbibing, but they’d all been teetering on a knife’s edge since the day the Lusitania sank, and relief had made them giddy. Millions of men had just been spared. All across America, there were farmers at their plows, young men studying in college, fathers tucking their children into bed. Those men would be allowed to carry on their normal lives because of what happened today, and that was worth celebrating.
It was almost midnight before dinner broke up, but Benedict had important business to settle before he could head upstairs.
“Inga, a word, please.”
Her foot paused on the bottom step of the staircase. “Can it wait until tomorrow? I’m exhausted.”
“I’m afraid not.” The conversation was going to be dreadful. He’d gone out on a limb for Inga, and now she needed to return the favor. He hated asking this of her, yet it had to be done.
She assumed a pleasant expression and joined him at the base of the stairs. In the kitchen, pans clattered as Mrs. Barnes cleaned up the last of the evening’s feast.
“Let’s step outside,” he suggested. The only thing that could make this conversation even more embarrassing was if Mrs. Barnes overheard it.
Outside, the heat of the evening had begun to cool. He’d hoped to sit on the front porch to talk with Inga, but next door the Bulgarians were having a lively outdoor party. Mandolin music and male laughter floated on the evening air. If he could hear them, they could hear him.
“Let’s keep walking,” he said, offering his arm. They probably looked like an ordinary husband and wife on a nice evening stroll. Their marriage was a sham, yet he still liked the feel of her beside him. Streetlamps illuminated the lush greenery of the tree-lined avenue. A fountain at the end of the street had plenty of seating around the wide rim of its circular wall.
“Benedict, I want you to know that I meant what I said this evening,” Inga began. “You didn’t have to help me out, and I’ll be forever grateful.”
Lord above this was awful. “You may want to hold off on the gratitude,” he said. “We’re not going to be able to get an annulment yet.”
“Of course we can,” she said, her voice as light as if debating whether to go to the theater or the opera. “I know I still need to become an American citizen, but the emergency is over, and I’ll have plenty of time.”
They arrived at the public fountain, babbling at the end of the street. He braced his foot on the rim and focused on the water dribbling from the tall spout.
“Inga, you and I have held ourselves out to be a married couple in front of the German court and several embassies. That was fine provided we left Germany and returned to America, but we can’t easily annul the marriage now that we are intending to stay. Not without significant damage to my standing in the diplomatic community.”
“Oh,” she said.
“A diplomat’s reputation for honesty is an essential element of his work. I must be seen as one hundred percent trustworthy. Participating in a fraudulent marriage would undermine that.”
“What if I ... simply returned to New York?”
He was afraid she was going to ask that. Now he had to get into an even thornier topic. “It would cause people to talk,” he said. “If you simply disappear after we just got married, it will reflect poorly on me.” He cleared his throat and parsed his words with care. “My first marriage was less than a shining success.”
That was perhaps the understatement of the century. “What happened between me and my first wife caused something of a scandal back in 1906 when I was posted in Rome. Memories are long. A second failed marriage would doom my career. If you disappear now, it will bring back talk of her.”
“Claudia?” Inga asked.
“Yes, Claudia.” The girl he had fallen in love with when he was eighteen. The girl he’d hoped to be the answer to his lonely, rootless life. Everyone warned him that eighteen was too young to marry, and he should have listened to them.
Inga lowered herself onto the rim of the fountain, looking pale and worried. He sat beside her, staring at the paving stones beneath his feet. “I met Claudia my first week at Oxford, and we married six months later.” He then told her how he believed they were in love and that the early few years of marriage were easy, joyful even.
The trouble had started after they left England for Benedict’s first diplomatic post as a deputy assistant in Istanbul. Claudia hated it. There weren’t many other wives for her to socialize with, and she pressured Benedict to get a better posting somewhere in Europe or America.
“I managed to get a posting to the American Embassy in Rome. Claudia started a ... well, a relationship with an Italian baron. Baron Agosti.” It was difficult to hide his contempt for the penniless noble who had never done an honest day’s labor in his life, but the baron was a charming man, and he had a title after all. He was also infatuated with Claudia. The baron’s adoration was heady stuff, and Claudia fell under his spell. She’d asked for a divorce, which Benedict refused. Baron Agosti wasn’t the first man she’d strayed with, and yet she always came back.
Not this time, however. After Benedict refused to grant Claudia a divorce, the lovers ran off together, traveling all over Switzerland and not even bothering to hide their affair. They accepted invitations at country estates owned by the baron’s extended family. They dined in public and shared a room in cozy Alpine resorts.
And all the while Benedict carried out his duties at the embassy, negotiating trade deals and trying to ignore the whispers. The American ambassador suggested Benedict take a leave of absence until he could get his house in order. It was mortifying, but he’d already been in the process of tracking Claudia down in hopes of salvaging both his marriage and his career.
It ended up not being necessary. A fierce, late-spring storm swept down from the north, blanketing half the continent beneath snow and ice. Claudia and her lover had been on a train snaking around a dangerous pass in the Alps when the train derailed. The train plunged over the side, killing thirty-two people, including Claudia and Baron Agosti.
Benedict went to Switzerland to retrieve her body and accompanied it back home to Oxford. The blizzard that killed his wife still held the continent in its grip, and the chill penetrated straight into his soul as the train chugged onward. Never had he felt like a bigger failure than when he met Claudia’s parents at the railway platform, waiting for porters to bring her casket out. If he’d have been a better husband, their daughter would still be alive.
“Danger to my career died with Claudia,” he said. “People from the diplomatic community offered genuine condolences when she died, even though they knew it was hardly a match made in heaven. To this day I overhear whispers and catch curious glances. I probably would have been promoted to an ambassadorship by now if it hadn’t been for Claudia.”
And he desperately wanted to be an ambassador. He had the temperament for it and was ready for the challenge. He could be a peacemaker. It felt as though his entire life had led to this point where the world was on the brink, giving him the chance to use his wisdom, intellect, and tenacity to save it.
He met her eyes for the first time. “Inga, my career cannot survive the scandal of another runaway wife.”
She swallowed hard, her face pale in the moonlight. “How long do we have to pretend?”
“Until we’re no longer posted to Germany.”
Inga drew a big, watery gulp. Then another. She covered her mouth with a hand, but the despair in her eyes was heartrending. Was being married to him that horrible?
“Inga, are you all right? You don’t look good.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, turning her entire body away from him. Great, shuddery breaths racked her frame. Never had he felt so helpless as he waited for the avalanche of grief to subside. It appeared every woman he’d been attracted to in his entire life found marriage to him revolting.
“I’m sorry,” she finally choked out. “I thought we could be through with all this.”
Another jab from a stiletto. She didn’t mean to hurt him, yet she had. “It won’t be so bad,” he said. “We don’t have to pretend inside Alton House.”
She sniffled and nodded. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry for being such a baby. It’s just been a challenging time. I’m happy for the peace, but I’m ready to go back home. I miss New York.” She swiped her nose with a handkerchief, then laughed lightly. “Look at me, worrying about being homesick when the rest of the world has it so much harder than me. I’ll be okay.”
She stood and started back home without him. He had never felt lonelier in his life than now as he watched her walk away.