Jewels (35 page)

“You lied to me! You lied,” he screamed, trembling and sobbing. “You let her die … my baby … my baby….” He was inconsolable as he clung to Joachim and suddenly wouldn’t let Sarah near him. He had loved Lizzie so much, and now he couldn’t bear to lose her.

“Phillip, please …” Sarah could barely gasp the words, as she caught the flailing arms in her own, and held him as he hit her. She took him from Joachim then and carried him gently home, as they both cried. And she held him long into the night as he sobbed agonizingly for “his baby”

It was unbelievable for all of them, Phillip, Emanuelle, Joachim… Sarah…. One moment she had been there… and the next gone. Sarah felt as though she were in a trance for days, as did Phillip. They just kept ambling around, waiting for her to come home, to go upstairs and see her there, to find out that it had been a cruel joke and she was up to some mischief. Sarah was so blind with pain that Joachim didn’t even dare tell her what was going on, and it was four weeks later when he had to tell her that they were leaving.

“What?” She sat staring at him, still wearing the same old black dress she had worn for weeks now. She felt a hundred years old and the dress hung on her like a scarecrow. “You’re what?” She seemed truly not to understand him.

“We’re leaving,” he said gently. “We got our orders this morning. We’re pulling out tomorrow.”

“So soon?” She looked sick when he told her. It was one more loss, one more sorrow.

“It’s been four years.” He smiled sadly at her. “That’s rather a long time to have houseguests, don’t you think?”

She smiled sadly at him too. She couldn’t believe that he was leaving. “What does this mean, Joachim?”

“The Americans are in Saint-L⊚. They’ll be here soon, and then they’ll move on to Paris. You’ll be safe with them. They’ll take good care of you.” At least that relieved him.

“And you?” she asked with a worried frown. “Will you be in danger?”

“I’m being recalled to Berlin, and then we’re moving the hospital to Bonn. Apparently someone is pleased with what I’ve been doing.” What they didn’t know was how little his heart was in it. “I think they’ll keep me there till it’s over. God knows how long that will be. But I’ll come back as soon as I can afterwards.” It was amazing to think that after four years he was leaving, and she knew how much she would truly miss him. He had meant so much to her, and she knew that he always would, but she also knew that she could not promise him the future he wanted. In her heart, her life still belonged to William. Perhaps even more now after Lizzie’s death, it was like losing a part of him, and more than ever, it made her long for William. They had buried her at the back of the property, near the forest where she had always walked with Joachim, and she knew that nothing that ever happened in her life would be as terrible or as painful as losing Lizzie. “I won’t be able to write to you,” he explained, and she nodded her understanding.

“I should be used to that by now. I’ve had five letters in the last four years.” One from Jane, two from William, one from the Duke of Windsor, and another from William’s mother, and none of them had ever brought good news. “I’ll listen for the news.”

“I’ll contact you as soon as I can.” He came closer to her then and held her close to him. “Good God, how I’m going to miss you.” As he said it, she realized how much she would miss him, too, how much lonelier she would be than she was even now. And she looked up at him sadly.

“I will miss you too,” she said truthfully. She let him kiss her then, as Phillip stood watching them from the distance with a strange look of anger.

“Will you let me take a photograph of you before I go?” he asked, and she groaned

“Like this? Good Lord, Joachim, I look awful.” He was going to take the other one with him anyway. The one of her with her husband at Whitfield, when they were all carefree and young, and life hadn’t taken such a toll on them. She was not quite twenty-eight now, but at the moment, she looked somewhat older.

He gave her a small photograph of himself, too, and they spent all of that night talking. He would have liked to spend the night in bed with her, but he never asked, and he knew she wouldn’t. She was that rare breed, a woman of integrity, a human being of extraordinary merit, and a great lady.

She and Phillip stood watching them leave the next day. Phillip clung to him as though to a life raft, but Joachim explained to him that he had to leave them. And Sarah kept wondering if Phillip felt he was losing another link to Lizzie. It was difficult for all of them, and painful and confusing. Only Emanuelle looked pleased as he prepared to leave. The soldiers went first, the trucks half full of their few remaining medical supplies, the supplies that hadn’t been plentiful enough to save Lizzie. And then the ambulances with the patients.

Joachim had gone to her grave with Sarah before he left He had knelt for a moment, and left a small bunch of yellow flowers, and they had both cried, and he had held Sarah for the last time, far from the eyes of his men, who knew anyway. They knew how much he loved her, but they knew, too, as soldiers do in close quarters, that nothing had ever happened between them. And they respected her for it too. She was the spirit of hope and love, and decency, to them. She was always polite and kind, no matter what she thought of their war, or what side they fought on. And they hoped, in their heart of hearts, that their own wives were being as strong as she was. Most of the men who had come to know her would have died to protect her, as would Joachim.

He stood looking down at her, as the last jeep waited for him, and his driver turned the other way discreetly. Joachim pulled Sarah close to him. “I have loved you more than anyone or anything in my life,” he said, lest by the hand of Fate he never saw her again, he wanted her to know that, “more even than my children.” He kissed her gently then, and she clung to him for an instant, wanting to tell him everything she had felt for him, but it was too late now. She couldn’t do it.

She looked into his eyes, and he saw it all there anyway. “Godspeed …” she whispered. “Take care … I do love you ….” She choked on the words, and then he stooped to Phillip, still holding tightly to Sarah’s hand, wanting to say something to him. They all had been through so much together.

“Good-bye, little man.” Joachim choked on the words. “Take good care of your mother.” He kissed the top of his head, and then ruffled his hair, as Phillip held him and then finally let go. And Joachim stood up and looked at Sarah for a long moment. Then he let go of her hand, and got into the jeep, and he stood and waved until they reached the front gate. She saw him as he left in a swirl of dust on the road, and then he was gone, as she stood there sobbing.

“Why did you let him go?” Phillip looked up at her angrily as she cried

“We had no choice, Phillip.” The politics of the situation were far too complicated to explain to a child his age. “He’s a fine man, even if he is a German, and he has to go home now.”

“Do you love him?”

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yes, I do. He’s been a good friend to us, Phillip.”

“Do you love him better than my daddy?”

This time she did not hesitate, even for an instant. “Of course not.”

“I do.”

“No, you do not,” she said firmly. “You don’t remember your daddy anymore, but he’s a wonderful man.” Her voice drifted off then as she thought of William.

“Is he dead?”

“I don’t think he is,” she said carefully, not wanting to mislead him, but wanting to share her own faith with him that one day they might find William. “If we’re very lucky, he’ll come home to us one day.”

“Will Joachim?” he asked sadly.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly, as they walked back to the house, hand in hand, in silence.

Chapter 16

HEN
the Americans arrived on August seventeenth, Sarah and Phillip and Emanuelle were watching when they came. They had heard news of their coming for weeks, and Sarah was eager to see them. They drove up the road to the château in a convoy of jeeps, just as the Germans had four years before. It was a crazy sense of déjà vu, but they didn’t point guns at her, and she understood everything they said, and they gave a cheer when they discovered she was American. She still thought of Joachim every day, but she could only assume that he had reached Berlin safely. And Phillip still talked about him constantly. Only Emanuelle never mentioned the Germans.

The commanding officer of the American troops was Colonel Foxworth, from Texas, and he was very pleasant, and apologized profusely for putting his men in her stables. But the rest of them pitched tents, and used the caretaker’s cottage she had so recently vacated, and even the local hotel. They didn’t put her out of her house again, so soon after she’d moved back into it with Emanuelle and Phillip.

“We’re used to it by now.” She smiled about the men in their stables. And he assured her that they would do as little damage as possible. He had good control of his men, and they were friendly, but they kept their distance. They flirted a little with Emanuelle, but she had no great interest in them, and they always brought candy to Phillip.

They all heard the church bells toll when the Americans liberated Paris in August. It was August twenty-fifth, and France was free at last. The Germans had been driven out of France, and her day of shame had ended.

“Is it all over now?” Sarah asked Colonel Foxworth incredulously.

“Almost. As soon as we get to Berlin, it will be. But it’s over here at least. You can go back to England now if you want to.” She wasn’t sure what to do, but she thought she should at least go to Whitfield and see William’s mother. Sarah hadn’t left France since war had been declared five years before. It was amazing.

The day before Phillip’s birthday, Sarah and Phillip left for England, leaving Emanuelle at the château to watch over it. She was a responsible girl and she had paid her price for the war too. Her brother Henri had been killed in the Ardennes the previous winter. But he had been a hero in the Resistance.

Colonel Foxworth and his counterpart in Paris had made arrangements for Sarah and Phillip on a military flight going to London, and there had been a great deal of hush-hush talk, telling the air force to expect the Duchess of Whitfield and her son, Lord Phillip.

The Americans provided a jeep to Paris for her, and they circumvented the town as they headed for the airport. They arrived with only moments to spare, and she swept Phillip into her arms, running for the plane, carrying their one small suitcase with the other. And as she reached the plane, a soldier stepped forward and stopped her.

“I’m sorry, madam. You can’t get on this plane. This is a military flight …
militaire
…” he said in French, thinking she didn’t understand him.
“Non
…
non
…
”
He wagged a finger at her and she shouted at him above the din from the engines.

“They’re expecting me! We are
expected!”

“This flight is only for military personnel,” he shouted back, “And some old—” And then he realized who she was, and blushed to the roots of his hair, as he reached out to take Phillip from her. “I thought … I’m really sorry, ma’am … Your, er … Majesty …” It had dawned on him too late that she was the promised duchess.

“Never mind.” She smiled, and stepped into the plane behind him. He had been expecting some old crone, and it had never dawned on him that the Duchess of Whitfield would be a young woman with a little boy. He was still apologizing when he left them.

The flight to London didn’t take very long, it took them less than an hour to cross the channel. And on the way over, several soldiers spoke to her admiringly for having weathered the Occupation. It seemed odd to Sarah as she listened to them, and remembered how relatively peaceful her life had been, during her four years in the cottage, protected by Joachim. When they arrived in London, an enormous Rolls-Royce was waiting for them. She was to go directly to the Air Ministry for a meeting with Sir Arthur Harris, the commander in chief of Bomber Command, and the King’s private secretary, Sir Alan Lascelles, who was there by order of the King, and also to represent the secret intelligence service. They had flags and little insignia to give to Phillip, and all the secretaries kept calling him Your Lordship. It was a good deal more ceremony and respect than he was used to, but Sarah noticed with a smile that Phillip definitely seemed to like it.

“Why don’t people at home call me that?” he whispered to his mother.

“Like whom?” She was amused by the question.

“Oh … Emanuelle … the soldiers …”

“I’ll be sure to remind them,” she teased, but he didn’t hear the humor in her voice and he was pleased that she agreed with him.

Several of the secretaries and two aides kept Phillip busy for her. When she went into the meeting, she found herself with Sir Arthur and Sir Alan. They were extremely kind to her, and what they wanted to tell her was what she already knew, that for two and a half years there had been no word of William.

She hesitated, trying to compose herself, and to get up the courage to ask a question. She took a deep breath and then looked at them. “Do you think it’s possible he’s still alive?” she asked softly.