His Majesty's Hope(78)
The men sat in silence, passing the flask back and forth, watching the boys play.
Herr Oberg’s dining room had more mounted antlers than art, and even the few oil paintings framed in gold were of hunting scenes. Glass eyes stared down at the guests assembled below, high-ranking Nazis and their wives. Rows of servants lined the walls.
Maggie, dressed in the gown she’d worn to the Fire and Ice Ball and wearing the late Frau Oberg’s jewels, was sitting at the foot of the long table where the guests included, Maggie noted with a frisson of fear, Dr. Goebbels and his wife. During all of her time in Germany, she’d never been more afraid. Her knees were shaking under the table, and she grasped her hands tightly so they wouldn’t tremble.
Still, no one seemed to expect much from her, certainly not coherent conversation, and for once she was grateful. She pushed roast pork around her plate, trying to smile and laugh at the appropriate times. There was a small commotion at the head of the table as Herr Oberg stood to propose a toast. “To Judenrein!” he proclaimed, lifting his glass of champagne.
The rest raised their glasses in response. “To Judenrein!” they intoned.
Maggie, too, raised her glass. She forced herself to say the words, which she knew meant “Jew-free.” She set her face in a smile and took a sip.
“And yet,” Goebbels said, “according to Himmler there are still more than four thousand Jews left in Berlin, and many of them are in hiding. We have a long way until we will perfect the Reich.”
Herr Oberg, flushed with wine, was in a jovial mood. “Like rats, we will flush them out!”
Goebbels nodded. “Those ghettos in Poland are getting crowded, I hear. And winter is coming.… That would take care of quite a few, I think.”
“I’d thought Britain would have surrendered by now,” Oberg grumbled.
“We all did. But Britain’s still fighting. And with her navy still on patrol, we can’t afford to take any of our ships out of commission to use for transportation. We’d counted on using Britain’s fleet.” Goebbels sighed. “If we only knew where to put several million Jews, there would not be so many after all.” Then, “Nach Russland abkarren … am Bestan wäre es, diese überhaupt.”
It took Maggie a moment to translate. The rest of the Berlin Jews should be carted off to Russia, but best of all would be to kill them.
Her stomach knotted as they once again clinked glasses and laughed.
“Your work is also vitally important, Herr Oberg,” Goebbels remarked as the dishes were cleared.
“Thank you, sir,” Oberg replied, flushing with pleasure.
“You’ve dealt with plenty of Mischlinge in your line of work, yes?”
“Of course,” Oberg replied. “And we are ever becoming more efficient.”
“Efficient, yes.” Goebbels turned to Maggie, his dark eyes piercing hers. “Fräulein Hoffman, you seem to be making the social rounds these days. First I see you at Clara Hess’s party, now at Herr Oberg’s table. Tell me—is Gottlieb Lehrer’s loss Herr Oberg’s gain?”
That brought roars of laughter from the men and some uncomfortable looks from the women.
Maggie knew she had to tread carefully. “It’s lovely to see you and your beautiful wife again, Dr. Goebbels,” she answered. “I work for Herr Oberg now, as a companion to his daughter. He most graciously asked me to take part in this dinner party.”
Goebbels’s eyes narrowed. “Last time we spoke, you were with young Lehrer, and going to interview for a secretarial position with Göring.”
Maggie made her lips twist into a smile. “Neither seemed to work out, sir,” she replied.
“And then you vanished into thin air!”
Maggie dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, to hide the shaking of her hands. “Hardly, sir. I’m certainly enjoying my time with Fröulein Oberg and the wonderful lake air.”
“Do you happen to be in touch with Frau Hess?” Goebbels asked, as the servants began to carry in Birnentorte, a chocolate and pear cake. “She seems to be quite taken with you.”
Maggie nearly dropped her napkin. “N-no, sir.”
He waited for the plate to be set down in front of him before saying, “She’s been trying to find you.”
“R-really,” Maggie managed.
“Yes.” Goebbels smiled. “You should send her a note when you have a chance. I think she’d appreciate that.” He motioned to one of the servants to take his empty glass away. “I’ll probably see her later tonight—I’ll give her your regards and let her know where you’re staying.”