come to naught, and the woman would forget. She had no reason to pursue Beata. She was just trying to be friendly. She had been a sweet girl, and desperately in love with the chauffeur. They had gotten married not long before Beata left, and Mina was pregnant at the time. Beata knew Mina must have been surprised to see her, since her father had said he would tell the entire household she was dead. In fact, she was very much alive. Perhaps that was why Mina was so determined to acknowledge her. But in these frightening times, Beata could not afford to be identified as a Wittgenstein, even at the risk of being rude to their former maid.
Beata was surprised to find that she was shaking violently in the cab. It had been one of those unnerving chance encounters that meant nothing, but hearing her call Beata's maiden name across the bank was risky business. It was a name she could no longer afford to admit ever having had. Hopefully, Mina would simply let it go. There was nothing Beata could do about it. It had been a frightening moment, but it was over. And Beata had not admitted her identity to her. She had remained outwardly calm throughout, even if shaking inside. Hopefully it would be the last she'd see of her. On her way to Gerard and Veronique's
The Daubignys had been lucky to keep the property intact, despite the war. Fortunately, Gerard had had the foresight years before to take German citizenship, as had Veronique, although Beata knew from conversations with him that he deplored what Hitler was doing to the Jews. He said it made him sick. He didn't question her as to why she wanted to leave money with him. He thought it was more anxious eccentricity than due to anything else. She was an unhappy, lonely woman on her own with a child. It was understandable that she was nervous. With a war on, and all of Europe up in arms over the fate of the Jews, these were frightening times for everyone, and the entire world seemed unstable. He suspected that what she was worried about was that the banks would fail. It was the only explanation for the amount she gave him that afternoon. She had given him an envelope with the equivalent of twenty thousand dollars in it, which she said would tide the girls over for a while, if anything happened to her, until they could get the rest. He assured her he would take good care of it, and put it in the safe. He sat down and had tea with her then, since Veronique was out.
The stables were still beautiful, she saw when she went in, although he said he had far fewer horses than he had when Antoine was alive. He had never found anyone to compare to him, to run the horse farm for him. Antoine had been gone by then for fourteen years. They reminisced for a time, and after a while, he called a cab for her to take her back to the city.
Daphne was already at home when she got back, and she was excited about a new boy she'd met in school. His father was in the army in Austria, and she said he was very handsome, with a twinkle in her eye, which made her mother laugh. The two of them had a quiet dinner that night. Daphne said she wanted to visit Amadea soon. They hadn't seen her in months. She was going to be taking her temporary vows again for the fourth time. She accepted Amadea being a Carmelite now as a matter of course. It was harder for Beata, who still hoped that one day she would change her mind. She had two more years before she took her final vows. It was the spring of 1941.
It was the following week that Beata went to the bank to take some money out for minor purchases. She wanted to buy some fabric for a few summer dresses for Daphne, and it was easier doing business in cash than writing checks, although there were fewer places to buy fabrics these days. All the stores she had patronized previously for those purposes had been run by Jews and were long since closed. She was thinking about what she needed when the bank teller handed her back her check, instead of cash.
“I'm sorry, madame,” he said coldly, “this check cannot be cashed.” There was obviously some mistake.
“I beg your pardon? Of course it can. I have more than adequate funds in that account to cover the check.” She smiled at him, and asked him to look it up again.
He handed the check back to her without checking anything. He knew he had read the notation correctly the first time. There was no mistaking those. The manager had made the notation himself, and the teller had no intention of challenging it. “Your account has been closed.”
“That's ridiculous. Of course it hasn't.” She was annoyed by their mistake, and about to ask for the bank manager, when she saw something in the young man's eyes. “By whom?”
“The Third Reich,” he said briskly, as she stared at him, opened her mouth, and closed it again. She put the check back in her handbag and turned around and walked out as quickly as she could. She knew exactly what that meant. Someone had reported her. All she could think of was Mina, her parents' former maid. She was the only one who knew. Or perhaps they had heard her call out “Miss Wittgenstein” and checked it out. However it had happened, they had closed her account, undoubtedly because someone knew that she was Jewish, and had been born a Jew. There was no other reason to close her account. Only Mina knew, although Beata had admitted nothing to her.
Beata walked quickly away from the bank, hailed a taxi on the street, and five minutes later she was home. She had no idea what to do, if she should wait to see what happened, or if they should leave immediately. And if they did, where would they go? She thought of the Daubignys, but she didn't want to endanger them either, no matter how sympathetic he said he was to the Jews. It was one thing to feel sorry for them, and another matter entirely to hide them. But maybe they could stay there for one night and he could advise her what to do. She had no passport, and she knew that she and Daphne would never be able to cross the borders. Besides which, she now had no money, except for what she had left with him previously, which she didn't want to use. The girls might need it later. Beata tried to fight waves of panic, as she took out two suitcases and began packing. She put her jewelry and some clothes for herself into one of them. And then she went into Daphne's room, and was throwing things into the suitcase when Daphne came home from school. The moment she saw her mother's face, she knew that something terrible had happened.
“Mama, what are you doing?” she asked, looking frightened. She had never seen her mother look like that. There was raw terror on her face. Beata had always feared this day would come, and now it had.
“We're leaving. Give me anything you want that will fit in this one case.” Her hands were shaking while she packed.
“Why? What happened? Mama… please…” Without even knowing why, Daphne started to cry. Her mother turned to look at her then, and the compounded griefs of twenty-five years showed in her eyes.
“I was born Jewish. I converted to marry your father. No one knew. I've kept it a secret for all these years. I didn't mean to, but once they started going after the Jews, I had to. I saw a woman at the bank last week who knew me when I was young. She called out my maiden name across the bank lobby. When I went back today, they had closed my account. We have to leave now. I think they're going to arrest us…”
“Oh, Mama… they can't…” Daphne's eyes filled instantly with panic and shock.
“They will. Hurry. Pack. I want to leave this afternoon.” There was desperation in her voice as Daphne tried to take it all in. It was a lot to swallow at one gulp.
“Where will we go?” She wiped her eyes, trying to be brave.
“I don't know. I haven't figured that out. Maybe we can stay with the Daubignys for one night, if they let us. After that we will have to work it out.” They could be on the run for years. But better that than caught.
“What about the convent? Can we go there?” Daphne's eyes were wide as she started putting random items into her suitcase. None of it made any sense. It was too much to absorb for a girl of sixteen, or anyone. They were about to leave their home, possibly for good. It was the only home Daphne had ever known. They had lived there since she was two.
“I don't want to risk Amadea or the nuns,” Beata said tersely.
“Does she know? About you, I mean.”
“I told her after Kristallnacht. They took my family then, and I thought she should know.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I thought you were too young. You were only thirteen.” As she said the words, there was a knock on the door. The two women looked at each other in terror, and Beata looked her daughter in the eyes with unexpected strength. “I love you. Remember that. That's all that matters. Whatever happens, we have each other.” She wanted to tell her to hide, but wasn't sure if that was the right thing. There was a frantic knocking on the door again, as Daphne stood there and cried. This was the worst day of her life.
Beata tried to regain her composure and walked to the front door. When she opened it, there were two soldiers and an SS officer standing there. It was all that she had feared. Now she wanted to tell Daphne to hide, but it was too late. She was standing in the bedroom doorway watching them.
“You're under arrest,” he said in a terrifying voice. “Both of you,” he said, glancing at Daphne. “As Jews. Your
