When Stars Light the Sky (The Women of Midtown #2)

Chapter 40

40

The Infanta Isabella ’s arrival in Cuba was met with tremendous fanfare. A flotilla of boats escorted the ship their final mile into the American naval base. Dozens of American flags snapped in the brisk harbor winds as the naval band played patriotic songs. Benedict stood beside Colonel Reyes on deck as the Gerards walked down the gangplank to be greeted with applause, photographers’ flashbulbs, and an armful of roses for Mrs. Gerard. It was a hero’s welcome as reporters shouted questions and civilians pushed forward, seeking the ambassador’s autograph.

It was to be the pattern for the next several days. The following evening, they arrived in Key West to be greeted by more reporters and more roses for Mrs. Gerard. Then they boarded a train to take them to Washington, stopping every few hours for another ceremony at another city. It was a triumphal procession as they made their way back to the capital. At each stop the Gerards disembarked to allow the ambassador a chance to make a brief speech to the assembled reporters, government officials, and soldiers.

Men in uniform filled the crowds, eyes eager as they listened to the ambassador recount their ominous months in Germany. They stopped in Jacksonville, Savannah, and Charleston. In Richmond, Benedict stood beside Inga on the platform as the governor greeted the ambassador and Mrs. Gerard with another splendid bouquet.

“Will she ever get tired of roses?” Benedict whispered to Inga, who smothered a laugh.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said. “Nobody has ever given me roses.”

Benedict silently kicked himself. Why had he never given this woman roses? If there was time, he’d dash off the train to buy a bouquet. Yet the stationmaster was already securing the train for departure for the final leg of their journey to Washington, D.C., where he would remain while Inga continued on to New York City. She hadn’t changed her mind about that, and it was increasingly unlikely that she would.

He shared a bench with Inga in the crowded passenger car, and to his surprise, Mr. Gerard came down the aisle toward them.

“I’ve just had a telegram from the White House,” he said. “Benedict, you and I will meet with President Wilson for a private dinner tonight. Inga, I need you to accompany my wife on a visit to the German Embassy.”

Benedict stood, for this was highly unusual. “What’s happening?”

“The German ambassador’s wife is close to having a nervous breakdown. She continues to be brutalized by the press, and we need to smooth her feathers before she returns to Germany. Jeanne Luckemeyer has been a good friend to Mary. Of course, she’s Countess Bernstorff now. It hasn’t been easy for either her or the count. They’re mistrusted in Germany and mistrusted here. Inga, you’re always a jolly good sport. Perhaps you can help Mary cheer up Countess Bernstorff?”

Inga agreed. Of course she agreed—she had a heart of pure gold. She was probably disappointed not to be heading on to New York immediately, but Benedict silently rejoiced. Inga’s delay in Washington gave him that much longer to win her over.

Inga tried not to gape like a tourist as the carriage took them past the Washington Monument and the U.S. Capitol. The iconic buildings triggered a lump in her throat. How proud she was to be an American, and what an irony that her greatest service to her adopted country had been carried out in Berlin.

Her last act of service on behalf of the Gerards would be to help calm the German ambassador’s wife, the former Jeanne Luckemeyer, now Countess Bernstorff. The carriage turned onto Massachusetts Avenue, which was dense with embassies from all around the world. The German Embassy was in a surprisingly modest three-story brick building with a turret and a mansard roof.

The ambassador’s apartments were on the second floor, which was sumptuously decorated, though the countess’s bedroom was a disaster. Wardrobes hung open, and clothing was draped everywhere. The countess was a pretty woman with a heart-shaped face and masses of dark hair mounded atop her head. She burst into tears the moment she saw Mrs. Gerard.

“Oh, Mary,” she wept, clinging to her old friend. “Could you ever have imagined back in our school days that we would find ourselves in such a pickle?”

Mary returned the weeping woman’s embrace. “There, there,” she soothed. “Surely it hasn’t been that bad?”

“They hate me in Germany, and I dread going back, but we can’t stay here anymore. Everywhere I go, people hate me.”

“But you’re a countess,” Inga said, to which the other woman stifled a bitter laugh.

“They think I’m a jumped-up Yankee who isn’t worthy to be married to a man like Johann. I’ve followed him all over the world, hosted his dinners, raised his children, all while living like a nomad. I’ve survived Russian ice storms and nearly died of heatstroke in Egypt, but I’ll never be good enough for those awful snobs in Berlin.”

“Do you know where Johann will be posted next?” Mary asked.

The countess took a fortifying breath as her eyes darkened. “We’re off to the Ottoman Empire, in a junior role, and it’s going to be terribly lonely there. Where are you going next?”

Mary shook her head. “I’m not as brave as you. We’re finished and are going back to New York. James will write his memoirs and then return to his law practice. The life of a diplomat’s wife was not for me.”

The countess blotted her tears. “I envy you,” she whispered.

It was time for Inga to do what she’d been sent here for. Cheer the countess up so she wouldn’t return to Germany with a sour impression of Americans. She scrambled for something to say that wasn’t a lie, but it was clear this woman loathed her husband’s career.

“I admire you,” she said. The countess looked to Inga in surprise as if noticing her presence for the first time.

“I’ve been working as a secretary for the Gerards for the past two years,” Inga continued. “I’ve seen how difficult your duties are. The wives have no power to direct the course of the war or create alliances. All they can do is watch from the outside and try to support the men who make the decisions. It’s a special kind of stress most people don’t appreciate, but a good wife is worth more than rubies. Isn’t that what is said in the book of Proverbs?”

Mary gave the countess a playful nudge. “Get Johann to buy you a nice ruby necklace,” she said, and the countess managed a watery laugh.

Inga scanned the room of this highly educated, worldly woman who loathed her fate as a diplomat’s wife. Even Mary was coming to loathe it. As much as she might wish it otherwise, Inga already knew down to the marrow of her bones that this was not the right course for her either.

It was time to give Benedict a definitive answer. The longer she remained in Washington, the crueler it would be to put it off. Each time they locked gazes she could sense his anticipation, the hope he could barely conceal. They both wanted this strange marriage to work, but Inga was the only one who understood it was impossible.

Inga’s chance to speak with Benedict came at breakfast the morning after their arrival in Washington. The hotel’s dining room had an Egyptian flair, with pillars, palm trees, and stylized hieroglyphics painted on the walls. He was eating alone at a corner table as she approached.

He gestured to the other chair, but she shook her head because this wouldn’t take long. Then she got a look at his breakfast and couldn’t resist a smile.

“Did they make you cold oats?”

His eyes twinkled. “I tipped them outrageously.”

They shared a laugh, but then she sobered quickly, setting his mother’s wedding ring on the tablecloth beside his plate.

Benedict froze. After a moment he took a long sip of coffee. His face remained expressionless even after he carefully set the cup back onto its saucer without making a sound. “Your decision is final?”

“It is. I’m leaving on a train for New York tonight.”

Once again he gestured for her to sit, and it would be impolite to refuse. There were legalities to finalize. She took a seat, keeping her hands beneath the table lest he see how they trembled.

“I will ask the ambassador to begin the annulment proceedings,” he said, his voice kind. “Do you have a place to stay in New York?”

She nodded. “My friend Delia has a large apartment at the Martha Washington. She’ll let me stay with her until I can find a place of my own. Benedict, I’m so sorry.”

He slipped his mother’s ring into a jacket pocket and smiled weakly. “It’s okay. I never should have expected more, and I respect your decision.”

She still couldn’t look at him, but the tenor of his voice was as warm and comforting as a cashmere blanket. She stared at his bowl of cold oats and abruptly stood. She had to leave before she started to bawl and embarrass them both.

Benedict escorted Inga to the train station to see her safely on her way to New York. An early March storm was brewing, the cold air buffeting them with tiny specks of falling sleet. The distant clang heralded the arrival of the train and the end of his marriage to Inga.

He tipped a porter to wheel her trunk to the baggage car. “Thank you, sir,” the porter said before pushing the cart across the wooden boardwalk. Benedict was about to put his wallet away when a sudden thought occurred to him.

“Do you have enough American money?” he asked Inga. They’d only been in the States two days, and she might not have changed her currency.

“Yes, Mr. Gerard provided me with an advance on my paycheck.”

She might run short once she got to New York. A woman with her skills could probably secure employment quickly, but nothing was certain. He took a few large bills from his wallet and extended them to her.

“Benedict, keep your money. I’m fine.”

He folded the bills and tucked them into her coat pocket with a gentle smile. “No arguing, Miss Klein. Take this as well.”

She studied the small card with a series of addresses and a Morse code call sign. “What’s this?”

“My next diplomatic assignment,” he said, barely able to contain his smile. “My orders came through this afternoon. I’m going to be the next ambassador to Japan.”

Inga’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Benedict, congratulations!” She leapt into his arms, and he hugged her back, both of them laughing. This was probably the last hug they would ever share, and he made the most of it.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said against his shoulder.

“I leave in three weeks,” he said, still holding her tight.

The appointment to Japan was a huge promotion. An ambassadorship was the pinnacle of any diplomat’s career, and Japan was a more prominent country than he had any right to expect. He finally disentangled himself to look down at Inga.

“Should you ever change your mind about us, you can send a message to the embassy in Tokyo.”

She winced. “I’m not ever going to—”

He put a finger on her lips. “I know your feelings, but I want you to have that code. If you ever need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

The train rolled into the station, gears clanking and steam hissing as it settled on the tracks. Given that they’d be handling the annulment from his overseas post, this was probably the last time they would see each other. He cupped her face between his palms and gazed down at her, trying to memorize every facet of her beautiful face.

“Good luck, Inga.”

Her eyes got bluer when filled with tears, but she tried to smile. “You too, Benedict.”

He waited on the pavilion as her train pulled away. There had been a time when she annoyed him to no end. Now he suspected he would go through the rest of his life wishing he could recapture every hour of those halcyon days.