Chapter 16
16
Inga braced herself for a busy day at the embassy, yet she was still taken aback by the crush of Americans anxious to get a passport. Why had they waited so long? She would have given her eyeteeth to get a passport back in August if it had been possible, but these people obviously felt confident in President Wilson’s assurances that he would keep them out of the war. They were mostly artists and musicians and performers, the carefree sort who always believed the worst would never happen.
Once upon a time, Inga had been carefree too. How long ago that all seemed now.
An early spring downpour darkened the day even further. Rain spattered against the windows, adding to the claustrophobic sensation of being trapped. At least there was plenty of work to keep busy. She sent telegrams, filed paperwork, and cranked the mimeograph machine so much her arm began to ache. She took shorthand at meetings between Mr. Gerard and low-level German diplomats sent to negotiate with him.
With each meeting Inga saw the transformation in Mr. Gerard. The man she always believed to be the soul of good cheer now scowled, demanded, and shouted. The Germans returned fire, and the room crackled with antagonism. After almost a year of enjoying being his stenographer, Inga tried not to cringe as she recorded the angry negotiations. It was a relief when Mr. Gerard stood and ordered the German undersecretary of the foreign office out of his office.
Inga left to type up the notes, but Mary Gerard intercepted her before she could reach her office.
“Inga, come quickly, there’s something we need to discuss.”
She eagerly abandoned notes of the hostile meeting to follow Mary through the reception room jammed with passport seekers, down the hall, and into the kitchen. Mrs. Barnes and Nellie were making sandwiches to hand out to people waiting for passports. Mary asked them to step outside for a few minutes, and Inga braced herself. This surely wasn’t going to be good, even though Mary tried to compose herself before turning to face her.
“Inga, my dear, you know we all hate the thought of leaving you behind.”
Her stomach churned as a rumble of thunder sounded from outside. “You mustn’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out.”
“But that’s just it! Some of the gentlemen at the embassy have thought of a solution. I’ve heard through the grapevine that Benedict is trying to find someone willing to marry you so that you can be granted diplomatic protection and sail home with us. I gather he was thinking someone from the Navy might be willing. Personally, I don’t see any reason why he can’t marry you.”
Inga rocked back. Marry Benedict? It would be funny if she wasn’t so horrified. “I-I’m not ready to marry anyone,” she stammered.
Mr. Gerard wandered into the kitchen and helped himself to a sandwich. He obviously overheard the tail end of the conversation and already knew about the subject because he joined in with ease. “Marriage would be an easy solution, and since I’m still technically a judge in the state of New York, I could perform the ceremony. Tonight if you wish.”
Mary frowned. “She wouldn’t want to get married tonight, my dear. She needs more time to become accustomed to the idea. Sharing a bed and all...”
Inga sagged, appalled they should be discussing this so openly. She didn’t want to marry Benedict at all, let alone share a bedroom with him. The prospect would give her nightmares for weeks. “Please, this is foolish,” she said, eager to change the subject, but it was too late.
Mr. Gerard beckoned someone forward. “Benedict! Just the man we were discussing.”
Benedict strode into the kitchen, obviously having been caught in the downpour because he was soaked. He held his fedora hat over the sink to drain rainwater from its brim. Then he used a towel to blot the damp from his shoulders. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“Nothing,” Inga rushed to say, but Mr. Gerard cut her off.
“My wife reports that you’ve been sniffing around in search of someone to marry poor Inga. Why don’t you do it? She’s a fine woman, and we think you’d be a better match for her than anyone from the Marines.”
Could a person die from mortification? She battled the compulsion to flee as dread settled over Benedict’s face.
“Never,” he choked out, then turned his appalled gaze on her. “Inga, please don’t misunderstand. I think you are a fine young lady, but I would never marry you even if the stars fell from the sky.”
“Marry?” another voice shrieked out from the hallway. Oh, good heavens, Nellie and Mrs. Barnes were on their way back, followed by Andrew and Larry. All of them hurried inside when the rain kicked up, and all of them had overheard their conversation.
Nellie thought it hysterical. “Inga and Benedict? Can you imagine!” She clamped her hand over her mouth to smother a giggle. Andrew and Larry looked like they were struggling not to laugh too.
This was beyond enough. Inga scrambled for the fraying ends of her dignity and finally found her tongue. “Thank you all for joining in the hilarity. Benedict, I don’t want to marry you. I have no idea how this even became a topic of conversation.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Mr. Gerard said. “If the two of you could manage to choke out the vows, I can declare you married, and we can all leave the country together. I’ve already booked a train for Switzerland in the likelihood we’ll need to make a speedy exit. The two of you can get along for a few weeks, can’t you? You can apply for an annulment once we get to New York.”
“On what grounds?” Andrew asked.
“Non-consummation,” Inga blurted out. The thought of lying down next to Benedict, pretending to like him? No, just no.
Benedict looked annoyed. “Inga, I’m not going to marry you at all.”
“Who asked you?” She bristled. “Apparently you’ve been running around offering me up on a platter.”
“I was trying to do you a favor ,” he bit out.
“Well, please stop!” It was excruciatingly hot in the crowded, cramped kitchen as everyone looked at her in varying stages of pity. “I am going to be perfectly fine and don’t need anyone sacrificing themselves on the altar of matrimony on my behalf.”
Panic began to escalate. She needed to get out of here before things got any worse. She angled sideways to escape down the hallway, but the reception room was loud and crowded. Where to go?
A hand suddenly clamped around her elbow, propelling her toward the line of private offices.
“To my office,” Benedict said. There was no point in resisting because this ridiculous idea needed to be dismissed in short order. It needed to be silenced, with a stake driven through it.
Keys rattled as Benedict unlocked the door to his private office. The room was uncharacteristically sloppy, with half-filled boxes and open file cabinet drawers he had been packing, another sign that war was imminent.
He closed the door, but she still kept her voice low. “Benedict,” she whispered furiously, “I did not ask to marry you.”
He shoved the keys in his pocket and began pacing before the window, not meeting her gaze. “I know, I know. This whole thing is my fault, and I apologize. I mentioned your troubles at the Swiss Embassy last night and, well, here we are.”
She sagged. Could this get any worse? “Does everyone from the neutral embassies know about this?”
“No! I asked if any of them could give you a job after we leave.”
Hope took root, and she met his gaze. “And?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. All of them are balancing on a knife’s edge at the moment, and they don’t want to rock the boat by employing a German.”
That meant she was going to be trapped in Berlin. She leaned against the cool wood paneling of the wall, willing her heartbeat to calm. All around her, evidence of Benedict’s half-packed office underscored the fact that he was leaving along with everyone else, and she’d be left here alone.
“Don’t worry. We won’t simply abandon you,” Benedict said. “We’ll make arrangements to send you somewhere safe after we leave.”
“Can’t I stay at Alton House? I can look after the building and keep it safe. I can feed Larry’s goldfish because I’m afraid he’s spoiled it terribly.”
Benedict’s face softened in pained compassion, and she had to look away. She hated it when he was nice to her.
“Inga, it would be best for you to leave Berlin. Too many people know you’re here, and you’ll be open to the charge of treason because of your work at the embassy. Where would you like to go?”
With you! To America! Anywhere so long as I won’t be alone. She couldn’t say any of that. Instead, she answered with the best cheer she could dredge up. “I’m sure anywhere will be fine.”
She had never been a good liar, and all she saw now was pity in Benedict’s eyes.