The smile faded as she considered her destination. William had given her a photograph of the man she was meeting and told her briefly what to say when she met him. Beyond that, she was essentially in the dark. All she knew was that she would meet Karl Gerst at Café de Toussier on Rue du Bain aux Plantes and he would pass her a packet that she was to bring back to William. It all seemed very straight-forward, and even though William had warned that it was dangerous business, Evelyn really couldn’t see what could possibly go wrong. After all, they were in France. It wasn’t as if she was driving into Germany.
She glanced at the speedometer and downshifted to take a particularly sharp bend in the road. If the truth were to be known, she was just happy to be doing something worthwhile. She was thoroughly enjoying her month in Paris with her cousins, but finding out that Robbie had gone and joined the RAF had thrown her for a bit of a loop. He was preparing to do his part if Europe did erupt into another war. While he was making plans and learning to fly in defense of his country, she was going to dinner parties and the theatre in Paris, drinking far too much wine, and enjoying a very carefree existence. It seemed a trifle shallow when she considered that her father was traveling to Vienna and Prague on a diplomatic trip and her brother was flying fighter planes.
There had been some talk of her attending the Sorbonne and studying journalism or economics with a view to do something more constructive with her life. Her mother had objected strenuously on the grounds that there was no reason for her to go out to work. Their family was financially stable and there was no worry of anything changing on that front. Aside from the inherited wealth on both her parents’ sides, her father owned several very lucrative sheep farms in Lancashire, which he kept a close eye on. Neither she nor Robbie had to work.
Yet they both wanted to work. Robbie had been ready to take over overseeing the farms when he’d obviously decided that flying was his passion. Evelyn frowned and shifted gears again, increasing speed as she drove along a straight stretch of road. She had been aimlessly learning every language she could, mastering dialects and accents, but none of that was really very useful in a practical sense. Perhaps she should give more serious thought to journalism, if they somehow managed to avoid another war. If they didn’t, then she supposed she would have to help with the women’s institute at home. There was no possibility that she could be a nurse. Evelyn shuddered at the thought. She had never got along well with the sight of blood. No, there was no possibility of nursing at all.
It all boiled down to the simple fact that she was restless. She had been for over a year now. When they returned from Hong Kong two years ago, she had left behind her Wing Chun and the only true sense of freedom that she had ever really known. In that school, she wasn’t expected to be a lady. There were no social standards that had to be met and adhered to, and no gender expectations. In that school, Sifu only cared about two things: discipline, and teaching his art to students who showed aptitude and wanted to learn. And she had done both, excelling beyond even his older students.
When she returned to England, Evelyn returned to the rigid societal restrictions that came with her status. For the first year, she was happy to be back home with the familiar foods and countryside, and the shift back to a normal way of life didn’t seem so bad. The past year, however, had seen her chaffing more and more under the confinement of what was expected from her. Her lot, it seemed, was to look pretty at parties and discuss fashion, boyfriends, and the house she would keep when she was finally lucky enough to snare herself a husband. Any other topic of conversation was humored in the drawing rooms of Lancashire and looked askance at in the parlors of London. Women of a certain class, it seemed, were not expected to show interest in politics, let alone discuss it with any sort of intelligence. At least, not in public. What was done in private was a different thing altogether. Evelyn had quickly learned that she was not a minority, but her peers had learned to save their intelligent conversations for their inner circles only. It was a double standard that she quickly adjusted to, and became very adept at employing.
Suppressing a sigh, Evelyn sped along the road towards Strasbourg and Karl Gerst. At least in France, it was much more free and interesting. The French had a completely different outlook on life. They believed it was to be enjoyed to the fullest, in whatever manner best suited the individual. And right now, it best suited her to drive into a city separated from Germany by the Rhine River and meet with a strange man at an outdoor café.
Her lips curved briefly and she tossed her head, inhaling the heavy scent of the countryside. Her mother would have a heart attack if she knew, and she wasn’t sure her father wouldn’t be a little shocked himself. She didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, Evelyn felt alive again; and she wasn’t about to let that feeling go.
Evelyn parked the Bugatti and switched off the engine, reaching for her slender shoulder
