Fall of Giants

“I can enlighten you-Winston has been telling everyone. If there is a war, Ballin said that if Britain will stay out of it, Germany will promise to leave France intact afterward, taking no extra territory-by contrast with last time, when they helped themselves to Alsace and Lorraine.”

“Ah,” said Walter with satisfaction. “Thank you. I’ve been trying to find that out for days.”

“Your embassy doesn’t know?”

“This message was intended to bypass normal diplomatic channels, obviously.”

Maud was intrigued. It seemed like a hopeful formula for keeping Britain out of any European war. Perhaps Fitz and Walter would not have to shoot at one another, after all. She said: “How did Winston respond?”

“Noncommittally,” said Fitz. “He reported the conversation to the cabinet, but it was not discussed.”

Maud was about to ask indignantly why not when Robert von Ulrich appeared, looking aghast, as if he had just learned of the death of a loved one. “What on earth is the matter with Robert?” Maud said as he bowed to Bea.

He turned to speak to everyone in the room. “Austria has declared war on Serbia,” he announced.

For a moment Maud felt as if the world had stopped. No one moved and no one spoke. She stared at Robert’s mouth under that curled mustache and willed him to unsay the words. Then the clock on the mantelpiece struck, and a buzz of consternation rose from the men and women in the room.

Tears welled up in Maud’s eyes. Walter offered her a neatly folded white linen handkerchief. She said to Robert: “You will have to fight.”

“I certainly will,” Robert said. He said it briskly, as if stating the obvious, but he looked scared.

Fitz stood up. “I’d better get back to the Lords and find out what’s going on.”

Several others took their leave. In the general hubbub, Walter spoke quietly to Maud. “Albert Ballin’s proposal has suddenly become ten times more important.”

Maud thought so too. “Is there anything we can do?”

“I need to know what the British government really thinks of it.”

“I’ll try to find out.” She was glad of a chance to do something.

“I have to get back to the embassy.”

Maud watched Walter go, wishing she could kiss him good-bye. Most of the guests went at the same time, and Maud slipped upstairs to her room.

She took off her dress and lay down. The thought of Walter going to war made her weep helplessly. After a while she cried herself to sleep.

When she woke up it was time to go out. She was invited to Lady Glenconner’s musical soiree. She was tempted to stay home, then it struck her that there might be a government minister or two at the Glenconners’ house. She might learn something useful to Walter. She got up and dressed.

She and Aunt Herm took Fitz’s carriage through Hyde Park to Queen Anne’s Gate, where the Glenconners lived. Among the guests was Maud’s friend Johnny Remarc, a War Office minister; but, more importantly, Sir Edward Grey was there. She made up her mind to speak to him about Albert Ballin.

The music began before she had a chance, and she sat down to listen. Campbell McInnes was singing selections from Handel-a German composer who had lived most of his life in London, Maud thought wryly.

She watched Sir Edward covertly during the recital. She did not like him much: he belonged to a political group called the Liberal Imperialists, more traditional and conservative than most of the party. However, she felt a pang of sympathy for him. He was never very jolly, but tonight his cadaverous face looked ashen, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders-which he did, of course.

McInnes sang well, and Maud thought with regret how much Walter would have enjoyed this, had he not been too busy to come.

As soon as the music finished, she buttonholed the foreign secretary. “Mr. Churchill tells me he gave you an interesting message from Albert Ballin,” she said. She saw Grey’s face stiffen, but she plowed on. “If we stay out of any European war, the Germans promise not to grab any French territory.”

“Something like that,” Grey said coldly.

Clearly she had raised a distasteful topic. Etiquette demanded that she abandon it instantly. But this was not just a diplomatic maneuver: it was about whether Fitz and Walter would have to go to war. She pressed on. “I understood that our main concern was that the balance of power in Europe should not be disturbed, and I imagined that Herr Ballin’s proposal might satisfy us. Was I wrong?”

“You most certainly were,” he said. “It is an infamous proposal.” He was almost emotional.

Maud was downcast. How could he dismiss it? It offered a glimpse of hope! She said: “Will you explain, to a mere woman who does not grasp these matters as quickly as you, why you say that so definitely?”

“To do as Ballin suggested would be to pave the way for France to be invaded by Germany. We would be complicit. It would be a squalid betrayal of a friend.”