Amelia rested in the back seat while Wallis took her turn driving. It was near sunset, the sky red above the brown fields. In the distance, a light here and there from a farmhouse or château twinkled in the cold air. The long length of muddy roads crisscrossed by rivulets of water from patches of melting snow was broken by small groups of refugees in tattered and dirty clothes struggling to push carts and bicycles weighed down with their belongings. They’d come from conquered Poland, walking hundreds of miles to escape the brutal Germans and their ironfisted rule. She had no idea what they’d do once they reached Paris. The city’s charitable organizations were already bursting with refugees.
“We should stop and give them something to eat. They must be hungry and cold,” Amelia suggested.
“We can’t.” Wallis swerved around a peasant man leading a sad-looking and tired donkey. A young woman in a thin coat and mud-covered shoes followed him. “We don’t have any care packages left.”
“We could give them our blankets and donuts.”
“We might need those. The roads are so bad, we could have a flat and be stranded all night and freeze to death.” Wallis jerked the wheel right to avoid a large ditch and Amelia steadied herself against the back seat. “Besides, if you hand out food, they’ll swarm us like pigeons. We might be robbed, or worse. I swear, Amelia, sometimes you are so naive.”
“I’m not naive, I simply hate to see people suffer,” Amelia snapped, irritated by Wallis’s callousness.
Wallis threw her a hard look in the rearview mirror. Amelia instantly regretted making Wallis look like a heartless witch but she couldn’t help it. She was tired from the long day of driving, the long months of waiting for the other shoe to drop, and horrified by the misery surrounding them.
“We’ll bring some extra care packages to hand out next time,” Mrs. Bedaux suggested, the polite compromise easing the tension between the cousins. “It’s the least we can do to help these poor people.”
“That’s a splendid idea,” Wallis agreed with little enthusiasm.
Amelia rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. The hum of the engine lulled her into a light sleep.
“You remember what King Carol said about war and opportunities. Charles’s business is booming. There could be opportunities for you and His Royal Highness too.” Mrs. Bedaux’s low, melodious voice melded into the soothing engine noise.
“I hadn’t thought so until David told me about the Ardennes.” Wallis’s carrying voice, even in a whisper, jolted Amelia into full consciousness but she pretended to be asleep, curious to hear where this was going. She listened in shock as Wallis told Mrs. Bedaux what the Duke had said about the weakness in the Maginot Line, the lack of reserve troops, and how the Germans could come through the forest.
Having heard enough, Amelia sat up and pretended to yawn, stopping Wallis from saying more. “Are we there yet?”
“Not far. Another half hour or so.” Wallis opened and closed her gloved fingers on the steering wheel and focused on the road. Mrs. Bedaux said nothing but stared out the windshield at the tall and leafless trees lining the road.
Amelia didn’t fall asleep again, afraid of what Wallis might say if she did. Amelia appreciated everything Mrs. Bedaux had done for her but there was no ignoring her husband’s Nazi friends. If she were as indiscreet with her husband as the Duke was with Wallis, there was no telling what damage it might do.
Amelia walked into the Chancery and was stunned by the change. She expected the sandbags out front, the taped-up windows, and the double guards; those were everywhere in Paris these days. It was the spacious foyer crammed with desks and chairs filled by Embassy officers helping desperate families get out of France that shocked her. Nothing was normal anymore and it deepened the unease already draping her.
She made her way past the line of people, her Red Cross uniform giving her some status. She wasn’t trying to cut the line but to reach Susan and find Robert.
“Amelia, I don’t suppose you’re here to lend a hand?” Susan half-jokingly asked, somehow managing to not look disheveled in the midst of the controlled chaos. She directed a young couple to the chairs along the wall where numerous other tired and anxious men and women waited.
“I wish I could.” Amelia spied Lisa and many other Embassy friends delivering or fetching papers from the desks. “Is Robert here?”
“It’s the only place he’s been for the last week.” She made a quick phone call and within moments he appeared from the hallway.
Deep circles beneath his eyes marred his face but he lit up at the sight of her. If the foyer hadn’t been filled with such misery and desperation she might have rushed across it to throw her arms around him. He would’ve run to meet her too, she could feel it in his quick steps.
“I need to speak to you, in private. Do you have time?”
“A few minutes. Susan, I’m out for a brief walk. I’ll be back soon.” He led her out of the Chancery. “Let’s go down to the Seine. I need some fresh air. It’s a madhouse here.”
“It’s a madhouse everywhere.”
“It’ll only get worse if the Germans press on toward France.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. I’m worried about Wallis.” They crossed through the Place de la Concorde, passing posters plastered on buildings proclaiming France and her allies were strong enough to defeat Germany. The faith in the French Army and the Maginot Line rivaled anything found in Notre Dame. After everything she’d heard from the Duke, she prayed that faith wasn’t misplaced. “I don’t know if I’m turning a molehill into a mountain or if I should even tell you about this but I didn’t know who else to talk to and it’s been bothering me for days.”
They reached the walk along the Seine where the booksellers with their green carts crowded with books and prints for sale sat waiting for buyers. There weren’t many people browsing today and most of the stalls were locked up tight.
“What happened?”
“Maybe I’m overreacting and she isn’t saying anything people don’t already know but she’s gotten herself into so much trouble before. That’ll be nothing compared to sharing information during war.”
He jerked to a stop. “Tell me what she said and I’ll tell you if you’re overreacting.”
She studied him, his strong face serious as he waited, but she hesitated. She shouldn’t betray Wallis but she couldn’t risk Wallis doing something that might come to haunt her more than losing the extra-chic title. “Promise you won’t tell anyone at the Embassy about this.”
He laid his hands on her shoulders. “I won’t.”
She rested her hands over his and took a deep, soothing breath. She had to believe she hadn’t misread him or his feelings for her and that she could trust him. “I think Wallis and the Duke are being too free with sensitive information and with the wrong people.”
She told him about the Maginot Line and what the Duke had said about the weakness through the Ardennes, the lack of reserve troops, and Wallis telling Mrs. Bedaux. He listened, his expression tightening with every sentence. She’d been right to be worried. “She didn’t do it on purpose, I’m sure of it. Wallis can be shortsighted but she isn’t a traitor.”
“Not everyone would agree with that. Europe is becoming a very dangerous place and even innocent discussion could be taken the wrong way.”
“Could they be tried for treason?”
“Anything’s possible but I doubt it. The backlash would be terrible and the Duke still has supporters in England.”
“Wallis doesn’t.” She’d seen the correspondence between the Duke and Mr. Churchill and the loyalty of men like Mr. Forwood and Mr. Metcalf. Wallis didn’t have those kinds of allies. “They could hang her.”
“I doubt it’ll come to that.” He pulled her close and she settled against him. “His Majesty’s Government knows the Duke is careless with sensitive information. When he was King, he used to leave government papers lying around Fort Belvedere where anyone could see them, including Herr von Ribbentrop, who was a regular guest. Cabinet members knew it and began holding things back. They wouldn’t have sent him to the Ardennes if they thought he could get into real trouble there.”
He was trying to comfort her but there’d been no mistaking his alarm when she’d told him what she’d overheard. The situation was more serious than he was letting on. She had to warn Wallis to be careful.
Amelia knocked and entered Wallis’s bedroom. “Can we chat?”
“You should be in bed. We have another long day of packing boxes tomorrow.” Wallis licked her finger and turned the page of her book, sitting ramrod straight in bed as always.
“I know.” Amelia twisted her satin robe sash. “But I wanted to talk to you about what His Royal Highness told us about the Maginot Line and the Ardennes. Why did you tell Mrs. Bedaux about it? If she mentions it to her husband, he might pass it on to the wrong sort of people.”
Wallis didn’t look up from her book. “One would think you’d have some faith in her after the faith she’s shown in you.”
“I’m grateful, but . . .”
“You’re accusing her and me of what amounts to treason.”
“I’m trying to protect you from accusations. If the newspapers or Buckingham Palace get wind of this, you could be in for a world of trouble.”
“Who’s going to tell them? You?”
