Krista's Escape Page 5
“Tell me what they say.” Miss Andrews turned and held out the papers to Krista. “But, if at any time it looks like we will be stopped, hide those about your person. They must not be discovered.” She couldn’t read the words but she had recognised that name and the crest and official stamp.
Krista gasped at the first order on the top page of the documents – and that was what it very clearly was – an order. “There is an order in place to escort Herr Baron von Furstenberg to Munich. He is to take up a position at the head of the German army.” She gulped and tried not to stare at the back of the driver’s head. “Should Herr Baron refuse he is to be shot and his body displayed in the market square as a traitor.”
“Dear God, it is all happening again!” Violet Andrews shuddered.
“Continue!” barked the driver.
“There is a detailed list of people who are believed to have Jewish blood in their ancestry. They are to be removed and replaced by people who support the new German regime.” Krista’s heart broke as she read aloud the names of her neighbours – people who had never hurt anyone in their lives.
“The horror!” Miss Andrews dropped her face into her hands while her shoulders shook.
They motored through the village until they were once more in remote countryside.
Silence reigned as they travelled the miles towards the port of Antwerp. The three passengers were lost in their own thoughts. They looked at the pretty countryside and villages they passed through but didn’t really see them.
“We are nearing the Flemish town of Mecelen,” the driver said that evening, his voice startling the two women who were dozing with their heads leaning against the car widows.
“Thank heavens,” Miss Andrews said over a yawn.
They had stopped earlier in the day at one of the many villages they passed through. Krista had been tasked to refill the empty picnic basket and a flask. They had eaten in the car, stopping only to take care of their bodily needs at the side of the road.
Chapter 6
“Now, young lady …” The driver pinned Krista in place with the force of his glare.
They had arrived in Mercelen and rented a suite of rooms in one of the many hotels around the village square. The suite was made up of two large bedrooms and a sitting room.
Krista was almost asleep standing upright. She wanted only to lie down in one of the rooms and stretch the aches from her body, but it didn’t appear she would get to retire yet.
“I have seen you studying me. You appear to know who I am …” The driver’s voice jerked Krista’s attention back to him. “How?”
Miss Andrews was sitting by the side of a glowing fire – a silent witness.
“Herr Baron –” Krista was too tired to even think of lying, “you have shaved off all your hair. You have made yourself bald, done away with your beard and moustache but I can still see you.”
“What about my figure?” He held out his arms to display his body, still clothed in the unattractive tweed suit.
“I do not know what you have done to appear portly but you stride with confidence around the place and your hands … well, Herr Baron … they are not the bloated hands of a portly individual.” She had stared at those hands as they held a loaded pistol pointed at her.
“Out of the mouths of babes,” Miss Andrews said softly.
“Go to bed.” He pointed to one of the bedrooms. “You will share that room with Miss Andrews. Go, you are almost asleep already.”
“Yes, sir.” She bit back the comment that trembled on her lips. He would be almost asleep too if he’d had to rise as early as she had.
She walked towards the bedroom door, wondering what she would sleep in. She had only the clothes she stood up in.
“The maid has unpacked for me,” Miss Andrews said. “You may choose something of mine to sleep in.”
“Thank you, Miss Andrews,” Krista said over her shoulder.
She entered a bedroom well-lit by the gas lamps the maid had left burning. The large double bed looked very inviting. She was so tired she was almost stumbling. She selected a nightgown from Miss Andrews’ possessions stored in the chest of drawers. With a yawn wide enough to break her jaw she began to undress to the skin. She would have to wear these clothes again tomorrow. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her skirt, something she did habitually, and discovered the handkerchief-wrapped money and the letter from her brother. So much had happened today that she had forgotten all about them.
She removed the items and put them on top of the chest of drawers. She pulled on the nightdress and, with a tired sigh, hung her outer clothing on one of the satin-wrapped hangers in the large wardrobe.
Wearing the borrowed nightdress, she dropped onto the side of the bed to read the letter from Philippe.
Kris,
I do not have much time but you must know. You are not my blood sister. You are no relation to me or mine. I do not say this to hurt you but feel you should know. We are not of the same blood. I don’t know where you come from and only know this much from conversations overheard between my parents.
Kris, somehow the auberge belongs to you. I am not sure how but the auberge is part of the price paid to my parents to raise you as their own.
I am sorry to tell you in this fashion but I could not leave without telling you at least this much.
That is all I have time for. I am leaving. I will not be a part of whatever is happening at the auberge.
Take care of yourself. These are dangerous times.
With affection,
Philippe
PS. I will always consider myself your big brother.
Krista fell back onto the bed, the letter in her hand. What was she to think of that? She was no relation of the Dumas family. She turned her head into the pillow, trying to make sense of what she had just learned. She was not related to the people she had always thought of as her family.
Thank God.
She fell asleep on top of the covers, the letter still clutched in her hand.
“What are we to do with our little stowaway?” Violet Andrews asked.
The two were seated at a table pulled close to the window, overlooking the town square. They had ordered room service. They had enjoyed their meal and were sitting enjoying coffee and cognac while watching the world go by.
“We will have to take her with us.” Gerhardt von Furstenberg ran a hand over his bald pate. It was strange to be without hair but he’d been willing to make the sacrifice. He knew his days were numbered. It was only a matter of time before they came for him as they had for so many of his friends. Even so, the young girl had seen through his disguise. He would have to be more careful – more lives than his depended on him escaping.
“We certainly cannot leave her to the tender mercies of La Flandre.” Violet was incensed. “How could Dumas offer her to that ignorant bully?”
“Calm yourself, my dear. It did not happen.”
“Only through the merest chance. How on earth did you ever believe that leaving her with the Dumas family was a good idea?”
“What was I to do?” Gerhardt picked up his glass of cognac, grabbed the bottle from the table in his free hand and gestured towards the fire. “Come, let us sit in more comfort.”
“You surely could have found a more caring family.” Violet followed him to the fireplace, not willing to let the subject drop. She had wondered for years how the situation with the Dumas and Krista had come about.
“Lord, all of that seems so long ago, yet sometimes it feels like only yesterday.” Gerhardt put the cognac bottle on the floor by his armchair and sat back with a sigh, He looked into the amber depths of his glass, swirling the liquid around as he remembered. “My poor brother, to have survived the war and then to be killed so tragically. If it had been anyone else I would have laughed – killed by a cow.” He shook his head and fought the pain the memory of his brother brought. His brother and his lover died when he crashed his car into a cow on a country lane in the dark.
She, Constance and their friends in the Women’s Royal Naval Service had come through so much mayhem and madness together. Constance’s death at that time and in such a way seemed doubly tragic. Violet had been in England at the time, one of many women desperately trying to keep the Women’s Royal Naval Service afloat. The dedicated women of the WRNS under the skilled leadership of Dame Katharine Furse had formed an efficient, tightknit, formidable force during WWI. When war ended the shock of being patted on the head, thanked for their contribution and sent back to the kitchen had left them all reeling. It had been a horrible time. Constance had agreed to serve as secretary to a member of the British foreign office. She had been in Berlin during the difficult years of returning peace to Europe.
“Yes, indeed, it was a miracle the babe survived.” The placement of a small baby had been the least of his worries at that time. His brother’s death had changed his world. He had been forced to accept the responsibility of the schloss, its estates and its people. He was never meant to be Baron von Furstenberg. His brother had filled that role admirably until he met Constance Grace. The actions of the pair of lovers were still sending ripples out into the world.
“So, the Dumas.” Violet wasn’t going to give up now that she had him talking. She had never felt free to question him before.
“It was a desperately difficult time, Violet,” Gerhardt said. “I had lost a much-loved older brother. A brother who had abandoned all of his responsibilities for love.” He bit it out through his teeth. “I was placed in a position that taxed my every nerve. I had my brother’s widow and young daughters to consider. My brother had been the heir. The Golden Boy. I was the spare and I enjoyed that position. I never wanted to be Baron von Furstenberg.”
“You have made a darn fine fist of it from what I have seen and heard.” Violet had never really considered the effect of that terrible accident on this man.
“Thank you.” Gerhardt bowed his head slightly in her direction. “I felt, for many years, that I was running in place.”
The estate and indeed the world had been trying to recover from a world war. The estate and its people had been hanging on to their way of life by the skin of their teeth. Every decision he’d had to make seemed of world-shaking importance at that time. Now, the moment he felt as if he could relax and enjoy the way of life he’d struggled to create, whispers of war rose up again.
“You had your wife and sons to consider too.” Violet wondered how much support this man had received.
“I left the running of the schloss and the family to my wife. I had to concentrate on the vineyard and our investments. There were a great many mouths to feed.” That had been a mistake but he was only one man. He could not be everywhere and do everything. “My brother and I married in haste at the outbreak of war. It was, perhaps, not the best decision either of us ever made.” He would not disparage his wife. He had made vows to the woman. He’d been shocked by her almost obscene glee at becoming Baroness – her eldest son was now the heir. She lorded it over everyone in a most unattractive fashion.
“Your wife would not accept the care of your brother’s child?” Violet wondered how she would feel in the same situation – but surely there were nannies at the schloss?
“I did not ask.” Gerhardt shuddered at the very thought. His family would have destroyed the poor thing.
“So, the Dumas family?”
“It seemed by far the best idea at the time. They were struggling to pay the lease on the auberge. The war had been difficult for everyone.” He sighed deeply. “The wife had just lost a babe and was having a hard time recovering, according to Monsieur Dumas.” He looked across the fire at his companion. “She had the milk the baby needed. What was I to do?”
“If I had known in time, I might well have taken the baby myself,” Violet said.
“You were still fighting passionately trying to keep the WRNS together.” Gerhardt knew of this only because his brother had shared his admiration of these women and his lover Constance with him. “Even had I known of your existence I would never have asked you to drop everything to run to my aid.”
“Fat lot of good our efforts and determination did for anyone.” Violet didn’t like to think of the desperate times after the war when the ministry disbanded the WRNS. They had begged to be allowed to remain the tightknit force they had been. They had offered to work for nothing. All to no avail. They were no longer needed. Thrown away – discarded.
“They will need the WRNS again now,” Gerhardt said. “Have you thought of that?”
“It has been so long … too long perhaps. We kept in touch after we were disbanded but so many of the girls went on to do other things.” They had formed many associations to keep the spirit of the Wrens, as they were popularly known, alive. She still received her copy of the monthly magazine The Wren. “It would be a mammoth undertaking to form a corp of skilled women again. I don’t know if I have the heart to become involved. Not without Constance. She was such a formidable commander.”
“You have her daughter sleeping in the next room.” Gerhardt refilled their empty glasses. “She seems to be a bright young thing. She saw through my disguise quick enough. She might well prove to be an asset to you in the coming days. She is fluent in three languages. I insisted she be educated to a high standard for a female of that class. That is not to be sniffed at, my dear.”
“She is too young.” Violet bit back a laugh. She had been younger than Krista when she’d presented herself to the first headquarters of the WRNS in Central Buildings Westminster. They hadn’t even had a name then. But with older brothers and a father in the navy she had – like so many other young women – been desperate to do her bit. “She knows nothing of the world.”
“You will have some time to train her up, I believe.”
“Will you not take her with you? She is your niece after all.”
“My dear Violet, there is a price on my head. A kill order – I will not serve Hitler in any way, shape or form. That child,” he jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom, “has been at the very heart of espionage without ever knowing it. She must be protected until she can be educated in the ways of intrigue. She will not survive for long otherwise.”
“Beaumont?” Violet had seen his reaction to that name. She knew the man slightly and had always thought him an insignificant little paper-pusher. She should have remembered that such a man made the best kind of spy.
“Not only Beaumont but the auberge itself is under suspicion.” Gerhardt, as soon as they arrived at Mecelen had sought out a man who had been warning of the coming war for years. He had taken the time to pass along a message giving details of what had been discovered this day. He hoped it reached the right people but he had done all that he could.
“I am struggling to believe that Europe once more faces war.” Violet wondered if she had the strength to don the mantle of power she had worn in the last war again. “Britain is not ready to face the might of the German army.”
“Violet,” Gerhardt gulped the last of the cognac in his glass, “if you had seen what I have seen. No one is ready to face the monster that is about to be unleashed on the world. The Russians are still saying they will fight from horseback for heaven’s sake. The leaders of other nations think that talking about peace will help. Hitler will not be stopped in his march to power. We must all band together to stop him or the world will not be a place I want to live. He must be stopped!” He beat a clenched fist on the arm of his chair. “I need your contacts, Violet. You must introduce me to men who will listen to reason. I have seen the factories churning out tanks. I have shivered in horror at the actions of young men of good family. My own sons wear brown shirts, for God’s sake! I have failed to talk sense into their young heads. They march around shouting Heil Hitler with the rest of them. It is a nightmare. We two must convince the people who have the ears of those in power. Britain must begin to gather its forces or all will
be lost.”
Chapter 7
Krista was the first to wake the next morning. She had a moment of terror as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The room she was in was far more luxurious than her own little attic bedroom. She was underneath the bedclothes. How had that happened? There was a long well-stuffed bolster pillow running along one side of her body. She raised her head up slightly and almost gasped aloud at the sight of Miss Andrews sleeping on the other side of the bolster.
She slipped from the bed, trying not to wake the other woman. She dressed swiftly in the clothes she’d removed the previous night. She folded her borrowed nightdress and put it on top of the chest of drawers. She took her handkerchief-wrapped money and letter from the top of the dresser and returned them to her skirt pockets.
In the sitting room she sought paper and something to write with. She found what she needed in a leather folder on top of one of the tables. In English she wrote that she had gone to seek something to eat and would return before they would miss her. She left the note lying on top of the folder and, with her heart thumping loudly, made her way out into the corridor in search of a bathroom.
She stifled a cry of delight when she saw a sign for a bathroom on one of the doors in the wide hallway. She was in dire need of the facilities. She locked the door at her back and swiftly took care of her bodily needs.
There was a well-stocked wicker basket of traveller’s emergency supplies on the sink unit in the room. Krista had need of everything the basket contained but did not want to disturb the perfection of the arrangement with its bows and pretty rolls of towelling. She dropped to her knees and, with fingers mentally crossed that it was not locked, opened the cupboard doors underneath the unit. As she had thought – replacement supplies were kept close to hand. She took a toothbrush, a small tin of powdered toothpaste, a small square of soft sweet-smelling soap and a complimentary comb. She would take these items with her. She took one of the towelling facecloths from a stack and stood to take care of her needs.