Love Wins In Berlin

CHAPTER ONE - 1890-1

CHAPTER ONE - 1890Simona moved around the house fascinated by everything she saw. It had been a great adventure for her to travel to Germany to stay with her school friend Karoline von Honentaal.

When she was seventeen her mother and father had thought she should complete her education at a finishing school.

They were told that undoubtedly the best in Europe was in Florence. The girls learned a thorough appreciation of old master paintings.

They were also taught interior decoration, which their parents believed would stand them in good stead when they were married.

Simona was extremely intelligent. She had been educated by a variety of governesses and tutors, but especially as she always acknowledged, by her father.

Lord Belgrave was well known as a most able politician and an outstanding member of the House of Lords. His speeches on the current European situation invariably received attention.

He had been bitterly disappointed not to have produced a son and heir.

He therefore concentrated on making sure that his daughter was as well educated as a son would have been.

In the country Simona rode her father’s finest and fastest horses and, against her mother’s protests, had learnt to shoot.

“I cannot think,” Lady Belgrave said “, why you should want to kill anything. In my opinion, although no man would agree with me, it is cruel and unnecessary.”

“I have no intention, Mama, of shooting birds or even rabbits,” Simona argued. “But Papa thinks that if I am to travel about the world, as he hopes I will, I should be able to protect myself.”

Lady Belgrave held up her hands.

“If your father is going to turn you into a traveller and an explorer, as he was when he was a young man, then I give up all hope of your ever settling down with a charming husband and a large family.”

Simona laughed.

“There is plenty of time for that, Mama, and I do want to see something of the world first.”

It was of course her father who insisted that they spent their holidays in various parts of France.

One year they had visited Spain.

And then the question of a finishing school arose. It was of course Lord Belgrave who found out from his friends in the House of Lords about the school in Florence. All the aristocrats in Europe, he was told, sent their daughters there.

“I consider in this day and age,” he told his wife, “that English children should have a cosmopolitan education. After all we govern a large part of the world with our Empire, and I think it important that we should get to know and understand our European neighbours.”

“I agree with you,” Lady Belgrave replied, “but you often forget, Edward dear, that Simona is not yet eighteen. When she is, she must have a Season in London and be presented to the Queen.”

“I do remember,” Lord Belgrave said, “but I think it would be an excellent opportunity for her to spend the last year of her education in Florence. You know as well as I do that it is one of the most beautiful cities in the world.”

Lady Belgrave had been obliged to agree with him.

As usual her husband had his own way and Simona was sent to Florence.

It was in Florence that she became friends with Karoline, a very attractive German girl whose family lived in Berlin.

It was because they were such good friends that Simona soon picked up the German language and Karoline similarly improved her English.

Lady Belgrave planned to open their London house in April for the Season.

Karoline who was leaving school in March at the same time as Simona, asked her to come home with her first for a visit.

“I would love to accept,” Simona sighed. “And I am sure Papa will think it an excellent chance of improving my German.”

“It is pretty good already,” Karoline smiled.

“I am sure Papa will wish it to be perfect,” Simona replied, “and that is going to be my strongest argument for accepting your invitation.”

She managed to get her own way.

Lady Belgrave merely complained that it would be a terrible rush when she returned to prepare all her clothes for her debut.

Simona however was far more interested in visiting Germany than in bothering so far ahead about her appearance. When she returned she would concentrate on what to wear at the innumerable balls her mother was expecting her to attend in London.

Karoline had told her so much about Germany, but Simona had not expected Berlin to be so large or indeed so impressive.

The houses as they drove through the wide streets all seemed large enough to be palaces.

Baron von Honentaal’s was no exception.

From her father and mother, and also from the school in Florence, Simona had learned a great deal about furniture. She was therefore fascinated by the contents of the Baron’s house.

Inside it seemed to her to be like a fairy palace.

Never had she imagined anyone could have in their home so much elaborate gold ornamentation. She was to learn that rococo was something that all Germans appreciated.

On the night that she and Karoline arrived, there was a large dinner party for friends who were visiting Berlin unexpectedly.

The next day, because Karoline was home from school, they were invited for luncheon with some of her relations.

Their house just was as large, if not even larger, than the Baron’s.

Simona found it difficult to concentrate on the conversation.

She was surrounded by pictures which she knew were as fine as any she had seen in an art gallery. The furniture not only glittered, but had, she was sure, a history that was more fascinating than any novel she had read.

During the first two days of her visit she hardly found time to think.

She was introduced to person after person. They all seemed to have something distinguished about them, which Karoline related to her later.

This afternoon, for the first time, Simona found herself alone. She was, for once, not rushing from one huge house to another, or driving down the wide avenues in an elegant carriage drawn by outstandingly well-bred horses.

‘Now I have the chance to explore,’ she told herself. She was alone because Karoline had arranged an appointment with the dentist and the Baroness had accompanied her.

“I am sure you will find something to do,” Karoline had said before she left, “and I will be as quick as I can.”

“I want to look at your wonderful pictures,” Simona had answered, “and I feel I shall not go even halfway round the house before it is dark.”

The Baroness laughed.

“I am glad you appreciate art,” she replied. “My husband is very proud of his possessions, but I often think Karoline takes them too much for granted.”

Simona thought the Baron had good reason to be proud. She had never seen such a collection of fine paintings all in elaborate gilt frames.

In some rooms the walls seemed a little over-crowded. Yet it was excusable, considering that every picture was a gem in its own right.

When she turned her attention to the furniture, she found it hard to realise that anyone could possess so many carved gilt tables and cabinets.

Some of the pieces she had already learnt from Karoline had come from France and Russia. There was a set of very fine King Charles II chairs from England in the dining room.

She moved from room to room, wishing her father was with her. She was quite certain he could have told her a story about every artist and every sculptor.

‘I am sure that the Baron keeps a catalogue of everything in his house,’ Simona thought, ‘and I will take a copy back to Papa and he will be very impressed at what I am looking at now.’

As she walked down a wide passage on the ground floor, she was conscious as she did so that she was walking on an exquisitely made Persian carpet.

At the end of it was Baron von Honentaal’s study.

Although Karoline had taken her quickly round a number of the rooms, she had merely pointed to the door of the study, saying,”

That is Papa’s Sanctuary where he receives all the important people who come to visit him. He is angry if I intrude on him when he is busy.”

Simona knew that the Baron was out at that particular moment. She thought that this was her opportunity to peep, if nothing more, into the Sanctuary.

She opened the door and found the room was rather as she had expected.

Very large and impressive, the Sanctuary boasted both pictures and furniture that appeared to be even more spectacular than she had already been appreciating.

The pictures, particularly by Rubens and Rembrandt, made her draw in her breath.

Then at the far end of the room she saw something quite extraordinary that she had never seen before.

She thought at first it was a very large cabinet. It was in red lacquer picked out with a profusion of gold carvings.

She looked at it again, fascinated because it was so unusual.

She thought that it might be a Sedan chair, used in the East, undoubtedly by a Royal personage on special occasions.

As she grew closer, she realised it was indeed a Sedan chair and more unusual than she could ever have imagined.

The small windows were of gold mesh, through which someone inside could see out, but not be seen.

She could not resist putting out her hand and opening the door. Inside was one low seat and nothing else.

‘I am sure this Sedan chair has a fabulous history to tell,’ Simona said to herself.

Then unexpectedly she heard voices.

As she turned to listen, she realised it was two men speaking in German and they seemed to be coming down the passage towards her.

She felt embarrassed at being found in the Baron’s Sanctuary.

Without thinking and acting on an impulse, she slipped inside the Sedan chair and closed the door behind her.

Even as she did so she heard the Baron’s voice say,

“Come in, Karl. It was lucky I caught you before you left.”

“I tried to see you yesterday,” the man called Karl answered. “But I was told that you were called to the Palace. I was busy with a number of other appointments, so I did not get the chance of coming to see you last night.”

“We have a short time together now before you must catch your train,” the Baron said, “and I am very anxious to know how matters are progressing.”

Karl grunted.

“Not very well I am afraid. As you well know, our Emperor is always impatient and dislikes being kept waiting.”

“You mean you have no further information about the gun?” the Baron asked.

“Alas, no,” Karl replied. “How are you faring with that man Watson?”

The Baron shook his head.

“He is extremely obstinate. We have him of course well guarded in the Panzer Haus in case anyone should try to wrest him away from us. But so far it appears no one seems particularly interested.”

“I am sure nevertheless someone must be,” Karl insisted. “After all I understand he was one of the main designers of the gun.”

“We have tried,” the Baron responded, “to persuade him to give us a drawing of his work, or even an explanation of how it will perform when it is in action.”

“And he will not oblige?” Karl questioned.

“He pleads ignorance,” the Baron replied, “and that as you well know, is very difficult to pin down or translate into anything that is of the slightest use to us.”

Karl gave a short laugh.

“You are right there and I am finding it very difficult indeed in England to persuade anyone to talk about the gun.”

“Have you managed to meet the Marquis of Midhurst?” the Baron enquired.

“I have only been introduced to him at a party,” Karl said. “I understand he is very fastidious about making friends and in any case prefers the opposite s*x. So I cannot claim that I have achieved very much in that direction.”

“But you must be aware,” the Baron said in a low voice, “that the Marquis is the key to the whole operation. I am told on good authority that the gun was his own conception in the first place, and he has persuaded the Prince of Wales to take a personal interest in its development.”