Stevens noticed that Niven and Fleming were getting to their feet. He looked to the door, saw who it was, and also stood.
Stevens well knew the history of Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Stanfield, whose tunic bore the insignia of the Imperial General Staff and whose identity card read “Captain the Duchess Stanfield.” Whitbey House was her ancestral home.
She had been assigned as liaison officer between the Imperial General Staff and OSS Whitbey House Station. Wild Bill Donovan had been the first to say that that meant she had been sent to spy on the OSS. When Dick Canidy arrived to run the station, he had immediately crossed swords with her—and ended their first meeting by telling Her Grace that she acted as if she had a corncob up her ass.
It had taken some time to get past that friction, but the Duchess had succeeded in convincing everyone that they were indeed fighting on the same side.
“Charity,” the Duchess began, then glanced at the others. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the new faces. “Ian! How delightful to see you! And David and Peter! Now, isn’t this a frightening surprise!”
“Please, Liz,” Niven moaned. “Do you have to shout, too?”
The Duchess looked from Niven to Fleming to Charity, her eyes asking What’s that all about?
“It’s nothing personal, Liz,” Charity said, grinning. “Someone last night had a few tea-many mar-toonies.”
The Duchess smiled and looked at Niven. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, David,” she said warmly. “You always seem to land on your feet.”
Fleming went around the table and lightly kissed the Duchess Stanfield on each cheek. Niven, exhibiting great effort, followed suit.
“I’m trying to recall the last time we all were together,” the Duchess said. “Wasn’t it in the bar at Claridge’s right after Christmas?”
“It was,” Ian Fleming said. “And while I cannot speak for David, I was more or less behaving myself.” He waited for Niven to make the expected face, which Niven did, then went on: “And I’m afraid to ask, but I suppose still no word on the Duke?”
The Duchess shook her head and softly answered, “I’m afraid not. It’s been quite some time now since his plane went down. It would appear hopeless. But one never knows for sure when someone is missing, do they? So, I keep my spirits up best I can.”
Charity Hoche and Ed Stevens exchanged glances, and Charity was certain they were thinking the same thought: The whereabouts of Ann Chambers. We have to move on that, too. How, we’re not sure. But we must.
Ed Stevens cleared his throat and said, “You’re just in time, Liz.” He turned to Montagu. “Lieutentant Commander Ewen Montagu, may I present Captain the Duchess Stanfield?”
Montagu stepped forward and offered his hand. “I have heard much about you, Duchess. It is an honor. And your home in magnificent.”
“Liz, please,” she said. “And thank you. I’m grateful Whitbey House is being found to be useful.”
Stevens said, “Have you eaten, Liz?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Well, then,” Stevens went on, glancing at the table, “everyone would appear to be finished, and I think we can get into the plans of the operation.”
Montagu nodded with enthusiasm.
“I should excuse myself?” the Duchess said, looking at Stevens, then at Fleming and Niven and Charity and, finally, Montagu.
Montagu looked ambivalent but was not about to speak before those who were superior.
“I believe that considering where we are,” Fleming said, “this is one instance in which having more minds at work far outweighs any concern of too many people knowing about a certain secret operation.”
“Agreed,” Stevens put in.
“I know I’d like to have another female’s perspective, particularly when we get into the writing of the love letters,” Charity said.
The Duchess’s face was questioning.
“Now there’s no way I’m leaving,” she said. “I’m intrigued!”
“Well, then, that settles it,” Montagu said. “Welcome to Operation Mincemeat, Liz.”
She raised an eyebrow at hearing that.