“What’ll Cookie say if she sees pictures of you waving like an opera singer? She’ll say you’re acting common or the crowd was paid to be here and you fell for the ruse.”
Wallis whipped around. “They aren’t paid.”
Amelia wasn’t so sure about that. “I know, but Cookie will say they are if pictures of you waving like that make the papers. Remember, you’re as dignified a consort as she is, and much more fashionable.”
Wallis looked back and forth between Amelia and her admirers, wanting to revel in their praise but afraid to look the fool. “You’re right. I can’t embarrass David, this trip is too important to him and our future, and I’m not about to give that Fat Scottish Cook another reason to sneer at me.”
With one last dignified wave, Wallis backed into the room and pulled the balcony doors closed, pausing to listen to the muffled cheers before facing Amelia. “What’s on the agenda for this afternoon?”
“A tour of the R. Stock & Company machine works and then a special concert by the factory workers’ orchestra.”
“Heaven forbid.” Wallis picked up the bouquet of white roses the woman at the station had given her and admired the delicate blooms. She plucked the bouquet from Dr. Ley out of the vase on the sideboard and dropped it in the trash and arranged the white buds in the crystal. “And tonight?”
“Nothing, but tea with Herr Goebbels and Herr Goerlitzer.”
His Royal Highness stepped into the room, as jovial as he’d been on his wedding day. “It’s time to leave for the Gruenewald factory. Are you coming, darling?”
“No, I’m too tired after the train ride. I’ll stay here and rest.”
“Good. I’ll see you this evening.” He pecked her on the cheek and, with Mr. Attfield at his side, left with the Germans.
The Duke was barely gone five minutes before Herr Rudolph, the butler assigned to assist the Windsors during their stay, announced, “Herr von Ribbentrop to see you, Your Royal Highness.”
Wallis’s exhaustion from the long morning instantly vanished. “Show him in.”
Herr von Ribbentrop entered dressed in full Nazi uniform with gleaming black boots and a black jacket. He swept off his cap and made a deep bow to Wallis. “Your Royal Highness.”
He straightened and handed her a bouquet of red carnations.
“How kind of you to think of me.” Wallis admired them with more delight than the diamond brooch the Duke had given her last night.
“You’re always in my thoughts. I’d be honored if you’d accompany me to the Palace of Sanssouci. I know how much you adore eighteenth-century decor.”
“I’d be delighted. I need inspiration for when I finally have a home of my own to decorate.”
Amelia bit back the urge to remind Wallis that with the eyes of the world on her, she should be more discreet about who she spent time with. However, with His Royal Highness escorted around by Nazi officials, Wallis going out in public with Herr von Ribbentrop shouldn’t raise too many more eyebrows than were already lifted because of this trip. It was not something Amelia would do, but little of what Wallis did was anything Amelia would ever do.
Wallis must have felt her subtle judgment because she handed Amelia the carnations. “Put these in a vase then return to your duties.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Amelia took the flowers to Wallis’s bedroom, irked at being dismissed like a servant, but after all, that’s what she was, and not as deferential a one as Mrs. Bedaux had advised. She was trying, but Wallis made it difficult sometimes.
With the Duke and Wallis gone, and the frenzy of sorting luggage and settling their entourage over, Amelia decided to step out and see Berlin. She had some free time before the tea and this might be her only chance to poke around the city. She settled her peaked hat over her hair, tucked her purse under her arm, and made for the door.
“Where are you going, Frau Montague?” Herr Rudolph asked in a respectful but firm tone.
“To do some sightseeing.”
“I don’t advise traveling without an official guide.”
“I’ll stick to the main areas, I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine.” She moved for the door and he stepped between it and her.
“Allow me to ask Frau Koch if she can accompany you.” He barked something in German and Frau Koch, the maid, stepped out of the adjoining room. The two of them began a lively discussion in German, the gist of which was neither of them wanted Amelia to leave. She should just go and let them try and stop her, but she wouldn’t put it past them to try. She wasn’t about to get into a tussle with the German staff.
Frau Koch picked up the telephone and made a call in German. A moment later, Mr. Forwood entered the room.
“Is there a problem?” He glanced back and forth between Amelia and Herr Rudolph.
“I want to walk around Berlin, but they say I can’t.”
“It’s not advisable.” Herr Rudolph pled his case in German to Mr. Forwood, who spoke the language as fluently as he did French and English.
When they were finished, Mr. Forwood pulled Amelia aside, out of their hearing. “I think you should stay here.”
“Why? What are they afraid I’m going to do? See something I’m not allowed to see?”
He flashed a look that said that was exactly what they were afraid she might do. The truth dawned on Amelia. They weren’t here to see the real Germany, but a pretty picture postcard with none of the ugly things she’d glimpsed during the car ride here. Amelia glanced over his shoulder at the butler and maid watching and trying to listen. They spoke fluent English. She hoped they didn’t speak French. “They’re spying on us, aren’t they?”
He nodded, then answered in French, “They probably think you’re a spy too. This isn’t Paris. Things are different here and I can’t vouch for your safety if you veer from our itinerary.”
He was right. She’d read newspaper stories about American gentlemen being mistaken for Germans and punched when they didn’t give a proper Nazi salute. She didn’t want to be pigheaded and get herself in real trouble.
“I’ll stay. I have things to do anyway,” she replied in English loud enough for the maid and butler to hear. They exchanged relieved looks then returned to their work.
“Thank you. I’ll try and arrange an outing for you.”
Amelia removed her hat and set her purse on the table, then thought better of leaving it where anyone, including Herr Rudolph, could riffle through it. She set up her portable typewriter on the desk near the window. The view from the hotel was all of Berlin she was going to see.
“It’s exactly like it was when I was here in 1918.” The Duke slapped his knee in excitement at the picturesque views of farms, fields, and rolling, tree-covered hills on either side of the Autobahn. “Of course, we didn’t have this magnificent road then, but everything else is the same. I had so much fun with Uncle Willie and Aunt Augusta. This brings it all back.”
“This road is one of the finest in the world. Feel how smooth it is.” Dr. Ley positioned his squat body between the two rows of seats. He raised his hands to show how steady he was then wobbled and quickly grasped the backs of the seats.
“He’d be a great deal steadier if he weren’t constantly drunk,” Wallis whispered to Amelia, who choked down a laugh. Dr. Ley often took discreet sips from the bottle of schnapps he kept in his uniform pocket whenever he thought no one was looking.
“His Royal Highness should be careful where he lights his cigarette. It might ignite the fumes surrounding our host,” Amelia whispered back, and Wallis’s face lit up in amusement.
The two of them sat together near the back of the large and luxurious Mercedes bus ferrying them to a military school on the Pomeranian border. The Duke sat at the front and reveled in the view of the German countryside. Amelia didn’t care what she saw so long as it wasn’t the same four walls of the Hotel Kaiserhof. She’d barely been outside since their arrival, buried under a constant stream of press inquiries, callers, deliveries, and cables. Despite Mr. Forwood’s assurance, no sightseeing had been arranged for her but more work had piled up. She suspected someone was making sure she had extra tasks to keep her busy and off the streets of Berlin. She’d diligently done what was asked of her until Herr Hermann Goering had insisted she change the Windsors’ Leipzig hotel reservation because the hotel owners were Jewish. Amelia had politely declined, turning the onerous task over to Mr. Forwood.
“We have all the modern conveniences on board.” Herr Goering, a barrel-chested man with dark, slicked-back hair, pointed to the telephone on a small shelf beside him. “Wireless telephone, we can call anyone from anywhere.”
“Marvelous.” The Duke was thrilled by the custom Mercedes bus with its large windows, small kitchen, and the two waiters in white coats and black trousers who served canapés and drinks. A radio played a selection of music from Wagner’s operas.
The flatness of the Autobahn soon gave way to the rolling hills of the Crossensee as the bus climbed up a winding mountain road.
“There it is, Ordensburg.” Dr. Ley pointed out the window at the stoic fortress of angles and hard stone perched on the side of the hill. It was an austere and chilling place with long, low buildings broken by a single, ominous tower.
