Fall of Giants

“You’ll never guess who came in this morning,” Maud went on. “Williams, the housekeeper from Tŷ Gwyn.” Fitz went cold. Maud added cheerfully: “We were talking about her only last night!”

Fitz tried to keep a look of stony indifference on his face. Maud, like most women, was quite good at reading him. He did not want her to suspect the true depth of his involvement with Ethel: it was too embarrassing.

He knew Ethel was in London. She had found a house in Aldgate, and Fitz had instructed Solman to buy it in her name. Fitz feared the embarrassment of meeting Ethel on the street, but it was Maud who had run into her.

Why had she gone to the clinic? He hoped she was all right. “I trust she’s not ill,” he said, trying to make it sound no more than a courteous inquiry.

“Nothing serious,” Maud said.

Fitz knew that pregnant women suffered minor ailments. Bea had had a little bleeding and had been worried, but Professor Rathbone had said it often happened at about three months and usually meant nothing, though she should not overexert herself-not that there was much danger of Bea’s doing that.

Walter said: “I remember Williams-curly hair and a cheeky smile. Who is her husband?”

Maud answered: “A valet who visited Tŷ Gwyn with his master some months ago. His name is Teddy Williams.”

Fitz felt a slight flush. So she was calling her fictional husband Teddy! He wished Maud had not met her. He wanted to forget Ethel. But she would not go away. To conceal his embarrassment he made a show of looking around for a waiter.

He told himself not to be so sensitive. Ethel was a servant girl and he was an earl. Men of high rank had always taken their pleasures where they found them. This kind of thing had been going on for hundreds of years, probably thousands. It was foolish to get sentimental about it.

He changed the subject by repeating, for the benefit of the ladies, Walter’s news about the kaiser.

“I heard that, too,” said Maud. “Goodness, I hope the Austrians will listen,” she added fervently.

Fitz raised an eyebrow at her. “Why so passionate?”

“I don’t want you to be shot at!” she said. “And I don’t want Walter to be our enemy.” There was a catch in her voice. Women were so emotional.

Walter said: “Do you happen to know, Lady Maud, how the kaiser’s suggestion has been received by Asquith and Grey?”

Maud pulled herself together. “Grey says that in combination with his proposal of a four-power conference, it could prevent war.”

“Excellent!” said Walter. “That was what I was hoping for.” He was boyishly eager, and the look on his face reminded Fitz of their school days. Walter had looked like that when he won the Music Prize at Speech Day.

Aunt Herm said: “Did you see that that dreadful Madame Caillaux was found not guilty?”

Fitz was astonished. “Not guilty? But she shot the man! She went to a shop, bought a gun, loaded it, drove to the offices of Le Figaro, asked to see the editor, and shot him dead-how could she not be guilty?”

Aunt Herm replied: “She said: ‘These guns go off by themselves.’ Honestly!”

Maud laughed.

“The jury must have liked her,” said Fitz. He was annoyed with Maud for laughing. Capricious juries were a threat to orderly society. It did not do to take murder lightly. “How very French,” he said with disgust.

“I admire Madame Caillaux,” Maud said.

Fitz grunted disapprovingly. “How can you say that about a murderess?”

“I think more people should shoot newspaper editors,” Maud said gaily. “It might improve the press.”

{VI}

Walter was still full of hope the next day, Thursday, when he went to see Robert.

The kaiser was hesitating on the brink, despite pressure from men such as Otto. The war minister, Erich von Falkenhayn, had demanded a declaration Zustand drohender Kriegsgefahr, a preliminary that would light the fuse for war-but the kaiser had refused, believing that a general conflict might be avoided if the Austrians would halt at Belgrade. And when the Russian tsar had ordered his army to mobilize, Wilhelm had sent a personal telegram begging him to reconsider.

The two monarchs were cousins. The kaiser’s mother and the tsar’s mother-in-law had been sisters, both daughters of Queen Victoria. The kaiser and the tsar communicated in English, and called each other “Nicky” and “Willy.” Tsar Nicholas had been touched by his cousin Willy’s cable, and had countermanded his mobilization order.

If they could both just stand firm, then the future might be bright for Walter and Maud and millions of other people who just wanted to live in peace.

The Austrian embassy was one of the more imposing houses in prestigious Belgrave Square. Walter was shown to Robert’s office. They always shared news. There was no reason not to: their two nations were close allies. “The kaiser seems determined to make his ‘halt at Belgrade’ plan work,” Walter said as he sat down. “Then all remaining issues can be worked out.”

Robert did not share his optimism. “It’s not going to succeed,” he said.

“But why should it not?”

“We’re not willing to halt at Belgrade.”