Danielle Steel - Jewels

“Is there … a smaller house? A cottage? Somewhere where you and your family could reside, while we stay here?” She thought of the stables, but they were too large, and he would want them as barracks for his men as well, and then she thought of the caretaker’s cottage where Emanuelle lived and she had first stayed with William. It was certainly adequate for her, Emanuelle, Phillip, and the new baby.

“Yes, there is,” she said bleakly.

“May I invite you to stay there?” He bowed with Prussian dignity, and his eyes were gentle and apologetic. “I am very sorry to… to ask you to move now—” he glanced at the child that was to be born in August—“but I am afraid we are bringing a great many troops here.”

“I understand.” She tried to sound dignified, like a duchess, but suddenly she felt like a twenty-three-year-old girl, and she was very frightened.

“Do you feel that you would be able to move the necessary things by this evening?” he asked politely, and she nodded. She didn’t have that much there, mostly work clothes, and a few suits and dresses, and William didn’t have much there either. They had worked so hard, they hadn’t brought all their things over yet from England.

She couldn’t believe what she was doing as she packed their clothes, and a few other personal things as well. She didn’t have time to rescue her jewelry from under the floorboards, but she knew it was safe there. She put her clothes and William’s and the baby’s into valises, and Emanuelle helped her pack up all the kitchen things, and some food, and soap, and all their sheets and towels. It was more work than she thought, and the baby cried all day, as though he sensed that something terrible had happened. It was almost six o’clock when Emanuelle took the last load of things to the cottage, her own things were already there, and Sarah stood in her bedroom for the last time, the room where Phillip had been born, and their second child had been conceived, the room she had shared with William. It seemed a sacrilege to give it to them now, but she had no choice, and as she stood in the room, looking around hopelessly, one of the soldiers arrived, one she hadn’t seen, and urged her out of the room at gunpoint.

“Schnell!” he told her. Quickly! She went down the stairs with as much dignity as she could, but there were tears rolling down her cheeks, and at the bottom of the stairs, the soldier poked her belly with the point of his rifle, and there was a sudden roar, the voice of a man who could strike fear in a moment. The soldier jumped a mile and stepped backwards like lightning, as the commandant approached them. It was the same man who had spoken to her in excellent English that morning. And now he raged at his soldier in a voice that was so icy and so controlled that the man visibly trembled, and then he turned and bowed apologetically to Sarah before running from the building. The commandant looked at her unhappily, deeply upset by what had just happened. And in spite of her efforts to appear nonplussed, he could see that she was shaking.

“My apologies for the incredibly bad manners of my sergeant, Your Grace. It won’t happen again. May I drive you to your home?” I am in my home, she wanted to tell him, but she was grateful to him, too, for controlling the sergeant. He could easily have shot her in the stomach for the fun of it, and the thought of that made her dizzy.

“Thank you,” she said coolly. It was a long walk, and she was exhausted. The baby had been kicking all day, obviously sensing her anger and her terror. She had cried as she packed her things, and she felt completely drained as they got into the jeep, and he started the engine as a few of the men watched him. He wanted to set a tone for them that they would follow to the letter. And he had already explained that. They were not to touch the local girls, shoot anyone’s pets for fun, or venture into the town while drunk. They were to control themselves at all times, or face his fury, and possibly a trip back to Berlin to be shipped elsewhere. And the men had promised him they’d obey him.

“I am Commandant Joachim von Mannheim,” he said quietly. “And we are very grateful for the use of your home. I am very sorry for the imposition, and the unhappiness it must cause you.” They drove down the grande allée , and he glanced at her. “War is a very difficult thing.” His own family had lost a great deal in the first one. And then he surprised her by asking about the baby. “When is your child expected?” he asked quietly. He seemed oddly human, despite the uniform he wore, but she wouldn’t let herself forget who he was, or who he fought for. She reminded herself again that she was the Duchess of Whitfield and owed it to them to be polite, but nothing more.

“Not for another two months,” she answered brusquely, wondering why he had asked her. Maybe they were going to send her somewhere. That was a truly terrifying thought, and more than ever she wished she had gone to Whitfield. But who would ever have thought that France would fall, that they would give themselves to the Germans?

“We should have doctors here by then,” he reassured her. “We are going to use your home for wounded soldiers. A hospital of sorts. And your stables will do very well for my men. The food at the farm is plentiful. I’m afraid”—he smiled apologetically at her as they reached the cottage, where Emanuelle was waiting for her with Phillip in her arms—“for us, it’s an ideal situation.”

“How fortunate for you,” Sarah said tartly. It was hardly ideal for them. Losing their home to the Germans.

“It is, indeed.” He watched her get out of the car and take Phillip from Emanuelle. “Good evening, Your Grace”.

“Good evening, Commandant,” she said, but she did not thank him for the ride, and she didn’t say another word as she walked into the cottage that was her home now.

Chapter 13

HE occupation of France depressed everyone, and the occupation of the Château de la Meuze was incredibly painful for Sarah. Within days, there were German soldiers everywhere, the stables were full of them, three and four to a room, and even in the horse stalls. There were close to two hundred men there, although she and William had only planned it for forty or fifty of their own people. The conditions there were rugged for them as well. But they took over the farm, too, and housed more men there, while making the farmer’s wife sleep in a shed. She was an old woman, but she was taking it well. The farmer and their two sons were in the army.

And just as the commandant had said, the château itself became a hospital for wounded men, a kind of convalescent home, with wards in each room, and a few of the smaller rooms reserved for high-ranking officers who had been wounded. The commandant lived at the château, in one of the smaller rooms. Sarah had seen a few female nurses there, but most of the attendants seemed to be orderlies and male nurses, and she had heard that there were two doctors, but she had never seen them.

She had very little to do with any of them. She kept to herself, and stayed with Emanuelle and the baby at the cottage. She chafed to get back to her own work again, and worried at the damage they would do during their occupation. But there was nothing she could do now. She went for long walks with Emanuelle, and chatted with the farmer’s wife whenever she could get to the farm, to make sure that she was well. She seemed in good spirits, and said they had been decent to her. They took everything she grew, but they hadn’t touched her. So far, they seemed to be behaving. But it was Emanuelle who worried Sarah. She was a pretty girl, and she was young, she had just turned eighteen that spring, and it was dangerous for her to be living in such close proximity to three hundred German soldiers. More than once, Sarah had told her to go back to the hotel, but Emanuelle always insisted that she didn’t want to leave her. In some ways, they had become good friends, and yet there was always a chasm of respect between them. And Emanuelle had taken to heart her promise to William, not to leave the duchess or Lord Phillip.