“I’m sorry, Sarah,” her father said quietly. “They don’t mean any harm. Try not to get so upset.”

“I haven’t had an intelligent conversation with anyone but you since we left New York,” she said accusingly, and he smiled. At least she enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers. That was something.

“And who is it you were having such intelligent conversations with while you were hiding on Long Island?”

“At least there, I didn’t expect it.” The silence had been peaceful.

“Well, don’t expect so much now. Take it for what it is. A visit to a new place, an opportunity to meet new people.”

“Even the women are no fun to talk to.”

“I don’t agree with you there,” he said, and his wife raised an eyebrow. He patted her hand apologetically, but she knew he was only teasing.

“All these women are interested in is men, boys,” she said defensively. “I don’t think they’ve ever even heard of politics. And they all think Hitler is their mother’s new cook. How can anyone be so stupid?” Her father laughed outright and shook his head.

“Since when have you been such a political and intellectual snob?”

“Since I’ve kept my own company. Actually, it’s been damn pleasant.”

“Maybe too much so. It’s time you remembered that the world is full of a variety of people, intelligent ones, less-intelligent ones, some downright dumb ones, some amusing ones, some very dull ones. But that is what makes a world. You’ve definitely been on your own for too long, Sarah. I’m happier than ever that you came here.”

“Well, I’m not sure I am,” she growled, but the truth was that she had enjoyed the trip with them. The social aspects had been less than pleasing, but she had enjoyed the trip very much in other ways, and she was happy to be with them. It had brought her closer to her parents again, and in spite of her complaints she seemed happier than she’d been in a long time. And if nothing else, she seemed to have regained her sense of humor.

She balked at going to the country with them the next day, but her father insisted that she had no choice, that the country air would do her good, and he knew the estate where they were going, and said it was well worth seeing. Sarah groaned as she got into the car with them, and complained most of the way down, but she had to admit that the countryside was beautiful, and the weather was unusually hot and sunny for England.

When they arrived, she reluctantly conceded that it was a remarkable place, just as he’d promised. It was a fourteenth-century moated castle, with beautiful grounds and the original farm, which the family had restored completely. The hundred guests they had invited to lunch were welcome to roam everywhere, even to wander down the long baronial halls, where servants waited discreetly to serve them drinks or make them comfortable in one of the many sitting rooms, or outside in the gardens. Sarah thought she had never seen a prettier, or more interesting place, and she was so fascinated by the farm that she stayed forever asking questions, and managed to lose her parents. She stood looking at the thatched roofs of the cottages and huts, with the huge castle looming in the distance. It was an extraordinary sight, and she uttered a small sigh as she looked at it, feeling comfortable and at peace, and completely in the grip of history as she stood there. The people around her seemed almost to disappear; in fact, most of them had by then. They had gone back to the castle for lunch and to stroll through the gardens.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” a voice behind her said. She turned around, startled to see a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes just behind her. He seemed to loom there, looking very tall, but he had a warm smile, and they looked almost like brother and sister. “I always have an extraordinary sense of history when I come here. As though, if you close your eyes for a moment, the serfs and the knights and their ladies will appear in an instant.”

Sarah smiled at what he said, because it was exactly what she’d been feeling. “I was just thinking that. I couldn’t bring myself to go back after I visited the farm, I just wanted to stay and feel exactly what you were just describing.”

“I like it this way. I dread all those awful places that have been manicured to death, and boiled beyond recognition to make them seem modern.” She nodded again, amused by what he said and how he said it, and there was a distinct twinkle in his eye as he spoke to her. He seemed to be amused by everything, and he was pleasant to talk to.

“I’m William Whitfield, captive for the weekend,” he introduced himself. “Belinda and George are cousins of mine, mad as they are. But they’re good people. And you’re American, aren’t you?”

She nodded, and held out her hand, feeling faintly shy, but not very. “Yes, I am. I’m Sarah Thompson.”

“Delighted to meet you. From New York? Or somewhere more exciting, like Detroit or San Francisco?”

She laughed at his vision of exciting, and admitted that he’d been right the first time.

“On the Grand Tour?”

“Right again.” She smiled, and he eyed her carefully with piercing blue eyes that held her firmly.

“Let me guess. With your parents?”

“Yes.”

“How awful. And they’re boring you to tears going to museums and churches by day, and at night introducing you to all their friends’ sons, most of whom drool, and a few of whom can almost speak English. Am I right again?” He was clearly enjoying the portrait he painted.

Sarah laughed openly, unable to deny it. “You’ve been watching us, I assume. Or someone’s been telling you what we’ve been doing.”

“I can’t think of anything worse, except perhaps a honeymoon with someone truly dreadful.” But as he said the words, her eyes clouded over, and she almost seemed to take a little distance from him, and he was instantly aware of it as he watched her.

“Sorry, that was tasteless.” He, seemed very open and very direct, and she felt incredibly comfortable with him.

“Not really.” She wanted to tell him that she was just sensitive, but, of course, she didn’t. “Do you live in London?” She felt a responsibility to change the subject to put him at ease again, although very little seemed to disturb him.

“I do live in London,” he confessed. “When I’m not in Gloucestershire, mending old fences. But it’s nothing like this, I can promise you. Actually, it never was, and I don’t have Belinda and George’s imagination. They’ve spent years bringing this place up to scratch. I’ve spent years just keeping mine from turning into a pile of rubble. And it has anyway. Dreadful place, if you can imagine it. Full of drafts, and cobwebs, and terrifying sounds. My poor mother still lives there.” He made everything seem amusing as he spoke of it, and they began to move slowly away from the farm as they chatted. “I suppose we should go back up for lunch, not that anyone will ever notice if we don’t. With that mob underfoot, Belinda wouldn’t even notice if we went back to London. I imagine your parents would, however. I rather think they’d come after me with a shotgun.”

She laughed at him again, knowing that her parents would have been more likely to use the shotgun to bring him nearer. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m not exactly the image parents are looking for, for their innocent young daughters. Bit old for that, I’m afraid, but in relatively good health for an old man, comparatively speaking.” He was eyeing her carefully, stunned by how beautiful she was, and yet intrigued by something he saw in her eyes as well, something intelligent and sad, and very cautious. “Would it be terribly rude to ask how old you are?”

She suddenly found herself wanting to say “thirty,” and couldn’t imagine why she would lie to him, so she didn’t. “I’ll be twenty-two next month.”

He was less impressed than she wanted him to be as he smiled down at her, and helped her over a rock fence with a powerful hand that felt smooth in her own for the instant that she held it. “A mere baby. I’m thirty-five. I’m afraid your parents would be incredibly depressed if you came home with me as your token European.” He was teasing her, but they were both having fun, and she really liked him. He would have made a good friend, and she liked the fact that she could joke with him, even though she didn’t know him.

“The nice thing about you, though, is that you don’t drool, I would bet that you can tell time, and you do speak English.”

“I’ll admit, my virtues are too many to number. Where do people get those dreadful relatives they bring out for other people’s children? I could never understand it. I have met young women in my lifetime, all of them related to seemingly normal people, yet most of whom must be institutionalized by now, poor dears. And everyone I knew was convinced that I was simply aching to meet them. Quite extraordinary, isn’t it?”

Sarah could hardly stop laughing as she remembered the boys she had just met all over Europe. She described the one in Deauville to him, and the two in Biarritz … the boys in Cannes, and Monte Carlo … and they were friends by the time they crossed the moat and reentered the castle.

“Do you suppose they’ve left any lunch for us at all? I’m absolutely starving,” he admitted to her. He was a very big man, and it was easy to believe he was hungry.

“We should have taken some of the apples down at the farm, I was dying to, but the farmer didn’t offer them, and I was afraid to take them.”

“You should have said something,” William said helpfully. “I’d have stolen them for you.”

They found the lunch table well laden with roasts and chickens and vegetables and an enormous salad. And they heaped a healthy lunch onto two plates and William led her into a little arbor. She didn’t hesitate to follow him for a moment. It seemed entirely natural to be alone with him, and to listen to his stories. Eventually, they began talking politics, and Sarah was fascinated to hear that he had just been to Munich. He said that the tension could be felt acutely there, although not as much as in Berlin, and he hadn’t been there since the year before. But all of Germany seemed to be revving up for a major confrontation.