The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [153]
Beulah shook her head unhappily. “Ah don’t like it, Miss Verity,” she said in a loud stage whisper, “ah just don’t like what they’re doin’ to that child. Fillin’ her head with Arnhaldt talk, ‘bout how rich they all are, and telling her she should only speak German now she has a German daddy and is a little German girl. What about you, Miss Verity? You’re her sister, ain’t yuh? So why ain’t they giving you German lessons so you can talk to your German husband? No, there’s sump’n funny goin’ on here. Ah’m tellin’ you, Miss Verity, they’s takin’ that child away from you and me bit by bit. Soon all we’ll have left is a little German fräulein. Don’t ax me why, but that’s the way it’s goin’.”
Missie thought about her words, alone and sleepless in bed that night. It was true, they kept Azaylee deliberately busy, they did keep her away from her, and they were teaching her to speak only German, praising her fluency even when she made mistakes. But why? She considered the possibility that it was because they really loved her, but then she remembered Eddie’s cold Prussian-blue eyes, so like his mother’s, and knew that was not true. It was no good, she thought desperately, it was time matters were straightened out between them. And if it meant it was the end and she had to return to New York and face up to the shame of her broken marriage, then so be it.
The next day was a Saturday and for once, Eddie was home. Deciding there was no time like the present, she dressed in a pretty blue woolen dress, put her hair neatly into a chignon in the hope that it made her look older and more commanding, and hurried downstairs to his study.
She tapped on the door, calling his name, waiting nervously. There was no reply and her heart sank as she realized he might have decided to go out. Now she had made up her mind she wanted action. Calling his name again, she opened the door and peered in. The study was empty but she could smell the pungent Turkish cigarettes he smoked and a book lay open on the desk. Thinking he had probably just gone out for a few minutes, she decided to wait. She had seen Eddie’s study only once before when his mother had taken her on a tour of the house, and she wandered around staring curiously at the objects on his desk. The massive silver lamp, three telephones, an enormous ugly brass ashtray, and silver models of various Arnhaldt guns. She thought disconsolately that everything in Haus Arnhaldt was grand and oversize. Even the books on the shelves were all fat, worthy leather-bound tomes.
She inspected each of the paintings, stopping suddenly at a small landscape. But she was not looking at the painting, she was looking at the open safe that it was meant to conceal. And there staring back at her was a familiar object, an object she had thought she had lost forever: Misha’s brooch, which she had last seen at Cartier in New York.
She clutched her throat as the horrific memories crowded back, hearing Sofia’s warning voice telling her over and over again that it would never be safe to sell the jewels, that the Cheka never slept and never forgot, that sometime, somewhere in the world, someone would be waiting for the Ivanoff gems to surface. And then they would act.
But there was something else that looked vaguely familiar, a legal document with a red seal. She picked it up and read the heading: “Lease of the Ivanoff Rajasthan Mine to Arnhaldt by The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics,” dated January 1, 1918, signed and sealed by Michael Peter Alexander Ivanoff on this date. She stared at it, puzzled. It could not be true; Misha was already dead when this document was signed.
Panicked, she remembered the Arnhaldts’ wooing of Azaylee and realized they must know who she was. But what did they want from her? Were they in league with the Cheka? A million possibilities flooded through her head, each more terrible than the last, as