Catching the Wind(69)

As she drove south, the realization of what the Terrells and Lady Ricker had done almost overwhelmed her. They had conspired with the Nazis to kill people like Mrs. Douglas’s father. Promoted the hatred and annihilation of an entire race of innocent people. How could they justify what they had done, supporting a man who was slaughtering innocent men, women, and children?

Perhaps they didn’t know the extent of what was happening in Germany during the war.

But perhaps they did.





Chapter 40




Mulberry Lane, April 1943

“They have Olivia,” Lady Ricker whispered, tipping her straw hat closer to her eyes with her gloved hands, perusing the gardens beside him.

Eddie stabbed the hoe into the soil and glanced both ways. Lady Ricker would never come out to the gardens unless it was urgent.

Two lads were planting seed for him nearby. They were from the village, hired for a few months to help him and the two POWs they retained. It was necessary to hire outsiders to maintain their food supply, but they had to be even more cautious with their words outside the house.

“I’ll come to your room to discuss it,” he replied, glancing over at the boys. “This afternoon.”

It would be a double advantage for him. He hadn’t been invited up to her room since Rosalind arrived.

“You can’t,” she whispered. “Lord Ricker is coming from London.”

He took her arm, motioning her away from the curious eyes of the workers. Lady Ricker didn’t put much stock in the lips of the lower class. No one, she thought, would believe the gossip of a farmhand, but Eddie knew well the power of a workingman to light a match of speculation. These days one didn’t need much more to start a wildfire.

As they walked along the stone pathway, he pointed at the pond strewn with lilies as if he were giving her a tour of her land. “Who has Olivia?” he asked.

“The investigators from Scotland Yard.”

He groaned. All it would take was the slightest twist of his wife’s arm, and she would spill everything about their work. And she’d take down Eddie and Lady Ricker with her.

He opened a gate, and they slipped into the secluded woods of the deer park. Only the herd and birds were behind these gates, both too busy rummaging for food to care about them. If anyone asked about their walk, he would say that Lady Ricker wanted an account of her animals.

But he doubted anyone would ask. Most of the staff knew he and her ladyship had a relationship that crossed a line or two. If the truth came out, he guessed none of them would be surprised.

In the seclusion of trees, he turned toward Lady Ricker. The lines fanning out from the woman’s eyes had deepened, her skin a gray pallor in the forest light. “Are you certain they have Olivia?”

She nodded. “A friend phoned this morning.”

He wrung his hands, pacing between the mossy trees. They must come up with a way to stop her from talking. “Perhaps your friend—”

“He’s already taken care of it.”

His nod was firm. Brisk. Olivia had soldiered alongside them for four years, attempting to gather information from Winston Churchill himself before he became prime minister. Then she’d reluctantly agreed to help Lady Ricker. Her work the past few years had proved to be invaluable.

But sometimes soldiers had to be sacrificed for the common good.

He’d never intended to continue on as a married man after Hitler invaded anyway. He’d sacrificed much for the cause as well and was ready to reap all that he had sown without a wife in tow.

Eddie leaned back against the trunk of a tree. “Our work is compromised.”

Lady Ricker nodded. “An investigator is planning to return here in the morning to search for you.”

He ripped off a spindly branch and broke it into pieces. The man had already said, the last time he met with Eddie, that he thought Eddie as guilty as men like Oswald Mosley and William Joyce. It was only the small matter of time and facts, he’d said, before he uncovered the truth.

Lady Ricker reached for his hand, her voice light again. “You needn’t worry, Eddie.”

“What if Olivia already talked?”

“The only significant thing she said was that you’d left Breydon Court. You’re supposed to be working at a farm near Manchester now.”

He pushed away from the tree. “Good girl,” he muttered. Olivia had been faithful until the end. “If I’m supposed to be in Manchester, why is an investigator coming here?”

“Because he had no luck finding you up north, just as he’ll have no luck finding you here.” She paused. “But we still have a problem.”

“There’s always a problem.”

“The investigator is planning to search the Mill House as well. My acquaintance said no one mentioned finding Rosalind, but if she’s still there, I suspect she’ll be glad to talk to him, as long as the spotlight is shining on her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Rosalind before she arrived here?”

“I can’t tell you every detail of my life.”

“That’s more than a detail.” He kicked the dirt. “She’s like one of those delay-action bombs. Heaven help us when she detonates.”

Lady Ricker removed a cigarette from her reticule, her hand shaking ever so slightly when she lit the match. The fug of smoke curled around her neck like a gray stole, and she looked up at him in the familiar way he knew before she asked him about taking on another job.