A matronly woman with gray-streaked brown hair stopped and looked at the newspaper clutched in Amelia’s hands and the tears staining her cheeks.
“It’s awful, isn’t it? I lost my brother in the last war. I might lose my son if Germany starts another one.” The woman pressed a handkerchief to her face and hurried off.
Amelia dried her eyes, selfish for crying over someone who no longer mattered while Europe stood on the brink of war. It would change everything, including the life she was working so hard to build for herself.
She tucked the handkerchief in her purse and walked to 24 Boulevard Suchet. On the narrow lawn between the high iron fence and the square house stood a mess of packing crates, furniture wrapped in blankets, and small boxes. Workmen in coveralls unloaded crates from the three trucks parked outside the fence, arranging them on the grass under the watchful eye of Monsieur Hardeley, the house’s caretaker, and Mr. Carter, the clerk tasked with bringing them safely to France from where they’d been stored in England.
Detto, Pookie, and Prisie ran around sniffing the crates, and Detto lifted his leg on the side of one.
“Don’t you dare, you little gangster,” the Duke scolded Detto while he dug through the hay and newspapers to get at what was inside.
“David, stop making a mess,” Wallis commanded from the front doorway.
“It’s my Garter Banner. Isn’t it marvelous?” He shook out a rolled flag of gold, blue, and royal lions and held it up.
“It’d be more marvelous hanging in St. George’s Chapel, where it belongs. I don’t know why you shipped all this over from England. Where do you think it’s going to go? The house is furnished.”
The Duke kicked at a bit of hay at his feet. “I’m sorry, darling, only it’s been so long since I’ve seen everything.”
“You could’ve lived with it every day if you hadn’t abdicated.” Wallis stalked back into the house, leaving David to pout among his boxes of treasure.
Amelia exchanged a strained glance with Monsieur Hardeley, who quickly shuffled off to see to his other duties.
“Your Royal Highness, have you heard the news about Austria?” Amelia showed the Duke the newspaper.
He read the headline while tugging at the knot in his tie. “Dreadful, but it isn’t all bad. Herr Hitler will whip the Austrian economy into shape the way he did Germany’s. You there, careful with that painting, it’s from the reign of Charles the First.” He leapt toward two men carrying a portrait of a baby into the house.
Amelia went inside to find Wallis. She walked through the marbled foyer and paused at the center table to flip through the Fendi guest book laid out on top. The Duke liked to display it everywhere they lived, and had everyone who visited write their names in it, making sure they saw the other famous and important people who’d signed it before. It made him feel important, as though he was still someone of note, especially since he had no real business or official duties to fill his days. She closed the book and made for the stairs, passing the caryatid candelabras flanking the doorway and the Louis XVI sunburst clock before climbing the curving staircase leading to the second floor and Wallis’s study.
“The Germans invaded Austria,” Amelia announced when she stepped inside.
“I know.” Wallis slid some papers into the top drawer of the antique cashier’s desk with the high, curved sides and locked it with a small key she dropped in her Chanel jacket pocket. “It’s why I wish David hadn’t dragged all his knickknacks here. It’s bad enough he hauls the abdication desk around with us like some old skin. He should break it up for firewood. Everything else would be safer in England, and one less thing for me to worry about if it all goes south, but he never thinks about anything so practical, it’s always left to me to manage.”
“Hopefully, we won’t have to move in a hurry.”
Wallis looked at her as if she didn’t believe it any more than Amelia did. “Your optimism is one of the things I adore about you. I was an optimist once. Life put me off it. Is there any uplifting news in the morning post?”
“Mr. Maugham sent you something.” She handed Wallis the package.
“Another book of his. I could barely make it through the last one.” She tore off the brown paper to reveal a copy of Theatre, then handed it to Amelia. “You read it for me, choose a notable quote, then type it out for me to memorize. It’s an old trick I learned years ago when dealing with authors. Commit to memory a line or two then repeat it back to them with glowing praise. It flatters them every time, and saves me a great deal of boredom.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Amelia didn’t mention she’d read all of Mr. Maugham’s works after meeting the famous author at his New Year’s Eve party in the South of France. They’d sat on the balcony of his villa and enjoyed a rousing conversation about Of Human Bondage. Since returning to Paris, she’d purchased the rest of his novels from the booksellers’ carts along the Seine. She looked forward to talking with him again when they ventured to Château de la Croë this summer. There was no point discussing books with Wallis. Except for detective novels, neither she nor the Duke bothered with reading. He had few interests beyond golf and making Wallis happy.
Mr. Hale knocked and entered. “Your Royal Highness, Herr von Ribbentrop is here to see you.”
“Show him in.” She rose and stood in the middle of the room to greet him.
The German foreign minister didn’t throw the Nazi salute but clicked his boots together and bowed to Wallis then handed her a bottle of champagne. “A housewarming gift, one of the finest my company has to offer.”
“How thoughtful of you.” Wallis admired the bottle then handed it to Amelia. “That’s all, Mrs. Montague.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Amelia curtseyed then left, noting Wallis hadn’t asked her or Mr. Hale to fetch the Duke to help her welcome their guest.
Amelia went downstairs to the small room near the back of the house. From her desk, she had a fine view of the garden. The perfectly manicured boxwood trees and the red roses didn’t distract her today. Theodore’s accusations did. She tried to focus on the back wages owed to yet another fired maid but she couldn’t concentrate on anything except the slim chance Theodore might be right. He’d recognized Jackson for the snake he’d been while she’d been too infatuated and naive to notice. That he might see some fatal flaw in Wallis that Amelia missed made her chest constrict as much as the new letter from her Boston attorney.
Chapter Thirteen
April 1938
“The prosecution is asking me to voluntarily return to the United States to answer questions for the suit about Jackson’s involvement in looting that trust. I told them everything I knew at Jackson’s trial, and it wasn’t much back then. Jackson never discussed business with me. I can’t afford passage home or the time away from work and I don’t want to ask Wallis for the money.”
“Does she know about this?” Robert read the letter from across the Café Capucines table, the remains of a croissant littering his plate.
He’d made time to meet her this morning after she’d called him yesterday in desperate need of his levelheaded advice. Ever since she’d returned from the South of France, they’d enjoyed croissants and coffee together every couple of weeks, careful not to cross the line between friendship and affection. She wasn’t ready to risk her heart or her position in France, and thankfully, he hadn’t pressed for more. Even if she’d wanted to start something, her schedule and his didn’t allow for much free time, so they met when they could to share stories of their pasts or their experiences in Europe and what little they could reveal about their jobs.
“She knows what Jackson did and my lack of money, it’s part of why she hired me, but she doesn’t know about the outstanding legal fees or this new suit. What’ll she think when she finds out I’m in debt up to my eyeballs and involved in a major lawsuit?”
“Do you think she’ll fire you?”
“She knows what it’s like to have legal troubles, especially after her divorce, but between the three maids she’s sacked and her foul mood lately, I don’t want to chance it.” She shouldn’t doubt Wallis, but after the run-in with Theodore, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t concerned. Wallis did have a tendency to burn as many bridges as she built but it wasn’t always her fault. Mrs. Gordon had spread vile lies about her and forced her to abandon the life she’d tried to build in D.C. Amelia didn’t know what had happened between Wallis and Mother but knowing Mother, she was sure Wallis had been right to walk away from her. Amelia should trust in Wallis and tell her about the suit and her debts but she couldn’t. Even confiding in Robert felt like a terrible risk but she had no choice. She couldn’t afford to lose her job and leave Europe. “Is there anyone you know who can help?”
“Mr. Carlton in the Embassy legal department might be able to do something. Can I show this to him?”
“Please, but it has to be soon. Word came down from Buck House for the Windsors to make themselves scarce during the King and Queen’s Paris visit, so off to the South of France we go.”
“I’ll do what I can, but I think you should come clean with your cousin in case there’s nothing Mr. Carlton can do. Better she finds out from you instead of someone else or when it’s a crisis and you have to spring it on her.” He flashed the charming smile she’d come to enjoy over the past few weeks. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it will all turn out better than you expect.”
“When you say it like that, I can almost believe it.”
Breakfast didn’t sit well with Amelia while she and Wallis inspected the baroque tables the antiques dealer had sent over for her selection.
“This one’s too large for the foyer. This one’s too small.” Wallis touched the tops of the tables and Amelia made a note to add them to the list of the ones going back. Wallis stopped in front of a gilded table with a marble top. “This is perfect. How much are they asking?”
Amelia checked the list. “Five thousand francs.”
“Offer them three thousand.”
Wallis and the Duke bought so many things for Boulevard Suchet and Château de la Croë, the antiques dealers weren’t likely to refuse and risk losing one of their most lucrative and notable clients.
“Let’s look at the side tables. I hope this lot is better than the last. I’m decorating the house like Versailles, not a New Orleans bordello.”
“Before we do, there’s something I need to discuss with you.” Amelia opened and closed her fingers on her notepad. As much as Amelia didn’t want to bring it up, this might be as good a time as any before the stress of moving to Château de la Croë began. “It’s about my business in America. I know Aunt Bessie told you some of it.”
“She said you were in need of a paying position, and was kind enough to remind me I was once young and without a husband or income. It’s awful, and naturally I wanted to help. Is there something more?”
“There is.” Amelia took a deep breath and told her about the outstanding legal fees, the new court case, and the letter requesting her appearance for a deposition. With every word, she waited for Wallis to erupt in rage and banish her from the house. She’d almost prefer that to the composed woman listening to her as if she were explaining the carpenters’ fees.
