Lloyd said: “Lady Maud was my late mother’s best friend.” He sounded a little less uptight. “I last saw her when Mam took me to Berlin in 1933. At that time Maud was a journalist, writing articles that annoyed Hitler.”

Fitz said: “I haven’t seen my sister or spoken to her since 1919. I was angry with her for marrying without my permission, and marrying a German, too; and I stayed angry for almost fifty years.” His discolored old face showed profound sadness. “Now it’s too late for me to forgive her. What a fool I was.” He looked directly at Lloyd. “A fool about that, and other things.”

Lloyd gave a brief, silent nod of acknowledgment.

Dave caught his mother’s eye. He felt that something important had just happened, and her expression confirmed it. Fitz’s regret was so deep it could hardly be spoken, but he had come as near as he could to apologizing.

It was hard to imagine that this feeble old man had once been swept by tidal waves of passion. But Fitz had loved Ethel, and Dave knew that Ethel had felt the same, for he had heard her say it. Fitz had rejected their child and now, after a lifetime of denial, he was looking back and comprehending how much he had lost. It was unbearably sad.

“I’ll go with you,” Dave said impulsively.

“What?”

“To the funeral. I’ll go to Berlin with you.” Dave was not sure why he wanted to do this, except he sensed it might have a healing effect.

“You’re very kind, young Dave,” said Fitz.

Daisy said: “That would be a wonderful thing to do, Dave.”

Dave glanced at his father, nervous that Lloyd would disapprove; but there were surprising tears in Lloyd’s eyes.

Next day Dave and Fitz flew to Berlin. They stayed overnight at a hotel on the west side.

“Do you mind if I call you Fitz?” Dave said over dinner. “We always called Bernie Leckwith ‘Grandpa,’ even though we knew he was my father’s stepfather. And as a child I never met you. So it feels, like, too late to change.”

“I’m in no position to dictate to you,” said Fitz. “And anyway, I really don’t mind.”

They talked about politics. “We Conservatives were right about Communism,” said Fitz. “We said it wouldn’t work, and it doesn’t. But we were wrong about social democracy. When Ethel said we should give everyone free education and free health care and unemployment insurance, I told her she was living in a dream world. But now look: everything she campaigned for has come to pass, and yet England is still England.”

Fitz had a charming ability to admit his mistakes, Dave thought. Clearly the earl had not always been this way: his quarrels with his family had lasted decades. Perhaps it was a quality that came with old age.

The following morning a black Mercedes with a driver, ordered by Dave’s secretary, Jenny Pritchard, was waiting to take them across the border and into the East.