Page 2 of The Number of Love
“Very good.” Hall moved away a step, then pivoted back again. “I have an appointment first thing this morning with Lady Hambro and a new recruit. If by chance they arrive before the secretaries, could you direct them to my office?”
“Of course.” Margot smiled at her superior and then kept it in place as her colleagues followed him out—Culbreth apparently aimed at the stairs, de Grey turning the opposite direction, toward Room 53, which Dilly Knox had claimed as his domain. Among the first cryptographers to be recruited to Room 40, Knox had already been firmly established here when Margot arrived. Though absent-minded about practical things, he had a head for mathematics. Margot had liked him from the start.
Silence fell. Crystalline, perfect, and soon gone as the pneumatic tubes delivered another passel of papers with athunk. Pulling in a long breath, Margot took a moment to wish they’d finished the codebreaking an hour earlier. She would have let herself into Knox’s chambers and made use of the bath he’d had installed. The very thought of gallons of warm water surrounding her was enough to make her shoulders sag. The flat she shared with her mother had aprivate bath, but the room was always frigid, and there was never sufficient hot water.
She fished the papers out of the tube and sent the holder back down to the basement, where a team was constantly at work typing up the intercepted telegrams from Germany and sending them wherever in the intelligence department they needed to go. A glance at the latest collection told her that if she sat down to get started on it, she’d still be at it come noon.
Tossing them instead onto another desk, Margot stood, stretching as she did so, and wandered to the window. She was more accustomed to this view than any other in London—the familiar rooflines of Whitehall’s buildings, the street that led to Charing Cross Hospital with its banner demandingSilence for the Wounded. A twenty-minute walk would lead her to her flat, and another twenty would take her to where her brother Lukas lived with his wife and their little daughter. A short tube ride and she’d be in Hammersmith, where said wife’s extended family always welcomed her, any time of day or night.
She leaned into the window frame and touched the tips of her fingers to the glass, still cool from the night. Sometimes it was hard to remember that this hadn’t always been her world. Even harder to contemplate was that it wouldn’talwaysbe her world.
Not once this war was over. The war she spent her entire focus on trying to end.
She let her fingers fall from the glass. Ithadto end. The Central Powers must be stopped. And with the United States now fighting on the side of the Allies, with their fresh soldiers and virtually limitless resources, surely it would happen soon. The war would be over. And then...
And then...
What? Maman would want to go back to Belgium. The longer they were here, the more wistful she became about the house in Brussels that was no doubt currently occupied by some faceless German officer. Lukas and Willa had already decided to split their time between London, Brussels, and whatever cities wanted to host the two renowned violinists on tour.
But Margot? She drew in a long breath and held it while her mind churned out a prayer.Nine, eighteen, twenty-seven, thirty-six, forty-five, fifty-four ...What would be left for her in Belgium? There was her childhood friend Claudette—assuming they would even still like each other, after living such different lives since the De Wildes sought refuge in England. Would a university welcome her there? As a student—or as a professor, eventually? Or would the world expect her to be a typical girl, too busy thinking about needlepoint and knitting and finding a husband to care about academic degrees?
The numbers came to a screeching halt in her head, as they always did when she contemplated a future like that. No, domestic “bliss” would be torture. She’d be a dunce of a housewife. What she needed was something intellectually stimulating with which to fill her days after the war was over. Something in academia, most likely. In mathematics.
Here. In London, if they would let her stay after the war was over. Here, where she’d first tasted the freedom of being who she was.
Muffled voices came from the hallway. One male, one female. Margot tilted her head to better hear them. Lady Hambro and DID? No, it wasn’t Hall’s voice that said, “Justknock, Dot.”
Nor, for that matter, was the head of the secretaries calledDot. And she certainly never sounded as uncertain as the voice that replied, “But the sign says to ring the bell....”
Margot’s lips twitched up. Yes, each and every door along this hallway had a sign that said NOADMITTANCE. RINGBELL. But not a single door actuallyhada bell. One of their little jokes, meant to dissuade anyone who didn’t belong from interrupting them.
But it was probably Hall’s appointment. Margot strode to the door and pulled it open, noting that it made the girl jump. The man did nothing but turn to look at her.
Siblings, she’d bet. They shared rich brown hair and striking silver-blue eyes ringed by dark lashes. The man, probably mid-twenties, had a knot on his nose that all but shouted that he’d exchanged a few fisticuffs in his day. He wore a naval uniform. Thegirl, probably around nineteen, took a step back and cast her eyes down at the floor.
Given that she’d been up for twenty-four hours, the smile Margot managed to summon was small. “Are you here to see DID and Lady Hambro?”
The girl seemed to be trying to vanish into the polished wood floor. Her brother cleared his throat and nudged her forward. “Yes, she is. Miss Dorothea Elton. Applying for the position of secretary.”
Three years ago, Maman had been the only secretary in the department, and she’d been hired more as a means of getting Margot here than because the then-boss wanted anyone from the outside coming in. Now there were nearly twenty other females employed by Room 40. They were full of giggling and gossip and tips for keeping one’s dress fashionable even with the shortages.
Margot found the lot of them baffling—and new hires nearly intolerable. New ones always thought she was one of them, to be chatted with.
She despised chatting as much as she despised knitting.
She nodded to the man—Lieutenant Elton, if her guess on their relationship was correct and her glance at his uniform accurate. After stepping out into the hallway, she motioned the two to follow her to Admiral Hall’s office. “Lady Hambro is not in yet, but the admiral asked me to show you to him.” That news delivered, she set off at a brisk pace. Once she delivered them to Hall, she’d go downstairs. Maman should be here any moment. If they didn’t pass in the halls, Margot would wait at the front door for her.
“Oh ... well ... thank you. I mean...” Miss Elton’s voice shook. Nerves, no doubt. Though she’d better get a handle on them, or she’d never survive the interview.
For that matter, who had recommended this girl? The secretaries’ names were all submitted by other Room 40 staff, and then they were vetted and interviewed by Lady Hambro. Perhaps someone here knew the brother, the lieutenant. It was as likely as anything.
And none of Margot’s concern. Having reached the admiral’s door, she rapped her knuckles on it twice. After Hall’s “Enter” sounded, she opened it and motioned Miss Elton in.
The admiral offered a smile, but he aimed it at Margot rather than the new recruit. “Thank you, my dear.”
“Certainly.” Duty done, Margot spun away.
And nearly collided with Lieutenant Elton, who was, inexplicably, right behind her rather than where he’d been a moment before, two steps to the left. She sucked in a breath and sidestepped him. “Excuse me.”
