The mess sergeant and his men who had descended on de Ville Place from the officers’ club at Bagatelle brought ample supplies of food and wine. They simply took over, carrying tables and chairs from the house, covering them with the white linen tablecloths they had brought with them, working very fast. The mess sergeant was polite but made it clear to Helen that as the field marshal was due at any time, he would appreciate it if she did not get in the way.
She went up to her bedroom, searched through the wardrobe and found a summer dress in pale green organdy from happier days. As she was pulling it over her head, there was a tap on the door and Sarah came in.
“Getting ready to play hostess?”
“I don’t have much choice, do I?” Helen told her. “Even if he was the real thing.”
She brushed back her hair and fitted ivory side combs. Sarah said, “You look very nice.”
“And so do you.” Sarah was wearing a dark coat and tiny black hat, the hair swept up.
“We do our best. I’ll be glad when it’s all over.”
“Not long now, love.” Helen put her arms around her and held her for a moment, then turned and smoothed her dress.
9.R9,
“You haven’t changed your mind, you and Sean? You won’t come with us?”
“Good heavens no. Can you imagine what would happen to de Ville Place if I wasn’t here? Nothing for Ralph to come home to, and remember that Sean, as he keeps telling us, is a neutral.” She applied a little lipstick. “I certainly have nothing to worry about. You and Standartenfuhrer Vogel were uninvited guests here. Anyway, there’s always Guido in the background to back me up.”
“You’re really quite a remarkable woman,” Sarah said.
“All women are remarkable, my darling. They have to be to get by. It’s a man’s world.” She moved to the window. “Yes, I thought so. They’re here.” She turned, smiled. “Don’t forget that down there among all those officers you and I are formally polite. French only.”
“I’ll remember.”
“Good. Into battle then. I’ll go first. Give me a few minutes,” and she went out.
When Sarah went into the Great Hall she found Guido, Bruno Feldt and three other young naval officers, all hovering uncertainly around the front door, peering outside. “Ah, Mademoiselle Latour,” Guido said in French. “You look ravishing as usual. The field marshal has just arrived.”
They moved out onto the steps. Baum was being introduced to Helen by Necker, and Sarah saw Harry standing at the back of the group of officers. Someone took the field marshal’s leather coat, baton and gloves. He turned back to Helen, smoothing his tunic, and spoke in English.
“This is most kind of you, Frau de Ville. A gross imposition, but I felt I wanted to see for myself one of your famous Jersey manor houses. De Ville Place comes highly recommended.”
“Quite modest compared to some, Herr Field Marshal. St. Ouen’s Manor, for example, is much more spectacular.”
“But this is delightful. Truly delightful. The gardens, the flowers and palm trees and the sea down there. What a fantastic color.” He offered her his arm gallantly. “And now, if you would do me the honor. A little lobster? Some champagne? Perhaps we can forget the war for a while?”
“Difficult, Herr Field Marshal, but I’ll try.” She took his arm and they walked across the grass to the tables.
The afternoon started off well. Guido Orsini asked permission to take photos which the Field Marshal graciously agreed to, posing with the assembled officers, Martineau standing next to him. The whole affair was obviously a huge success.
Necker, on his fourth glass of champagne, was standing by the drinks table with Hofer and Martineau. “I think he’s enjoying himself.”
Hofer nodded. “Most definitely. A marvelous place and a most charming hostess.”
“However reluctant,” Martineau commented acidly. “But too well bred to show it. The English upper classes are always the same.”
“Perhaps,” Necker said coldly. “And understandably so. Her husband, after all, is a major in the British Army.”
“And therefore an enemy of the Reich, but then I hardly need remind you of that.”