B001GAQ55C_EBOK.prc

by Unknown

  "No, and it ain't getting any warmer. I tell you, Maisie, a chill wind blows through 'ere sometimes, a chill wind "

  Maisie turned to face Enid.

  "Enid, why don't you like it here?"

  Enid stopped brushing, held the brush in her lap, and fingered the scarf. Her shoulders drooped, and when she looked up at Maisie, it was with tears in her eyes.

  "Enid, what is it? Is it James? Or that Arthur?"

  Maisie had guessed that the reason for Enid's absences over the past year resided in rooms on the third floor. Though it might have been Arthur, the young footman who had come to work at the house a month before Maisie. His position had been elevated since then. He had been given the task of ensuring the good health of the Comptons' Lanchester motorcar, keeping it polished, oiled, and spick and span. She thought that he had taken a shine to Enid, too.

  "No, it's not 'im. That one's full of the old bluster, all mouth and trousers, that's Arthur. No, it's not 'im" Enid picked at the hairbrush, taking out long hairs and rolling them between her fingers.

  "Come on, Enid. Something makes you sad"

  The older girl sighed, the familiar defiance ebbing as Maisie's eyes sought her confidence.

  "You know, Maisie, they're all very nice here until you overstep the line. Now you, you'll land on your feet; after all, 'avin' brains is like 'avin' money, even I know that. But me, all I've got is 'oo I am, and 'oo I am i'n't good enough"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Oh, come on, Maisie, you must've heard talk-they love to talk in the kitchen of this place, 'specially that old Mrs. Crawford" Enid put down the brush, pulled back her bedsheets, and climbed into bed. She turned to face Maisie. "I don't know what it is about them eyes of yours, Mais, but I tell you, the way you look at me makes me want to spill my insides out to you"

  Maisie inclined her head for Enid to continue.

  "It's James. Master James. That's why His Lordship is talking about sending him away. To Canada. As far away from the likes of me as they can get 'im. It's a wonder they don't send me off too, to look for another job, but 'er Ladyship isn't a bad old bird, really. At least she can keep an eye on me if I'm 'ere-otherwise, who knows? I might just go to Canada meselfl"

  "Do you love James, Enid?"

  Enid rolled to face the ceiling, and in the half-light, Maisie saw a single tear run from the corner of her eye onto the pillow

  "Love 'im? Gawd, Maisie, what business 'ave I got, going in for all that nonsense?"

  Enid paused, dabbing at her eyes with a corner of the sheet. "Love don't put food on the table, does it?" She looked at her crumpled handkerchief, dabbed her eyes, and nodded. "I suppose I do, love him, that is. I do love James, but-"

  "But what? If you love him, Enid, you can-"

  "Can what, Maisie? Can what? No, theres no `buts' in the matter.

  He's going, and when he's gone, I've got my life to get on with. And in some way or another, I've got to get out of this 'ere job. I've got to get on, like you're getting on. But I've not got your cleverness."

  "Dr. Blanche says that having a mental picture works. He said once that it's good to have a vision of what the future may hold. He says it's important to keep that in mind."

  "Oh, he does, does he? Well, then, I'll start seeing myself all dolled up like a lady, with a nice husband, and a nice house. How about that for a picture?"

  "I'll picture that for you too, Enid!"

  Enid laughed and rolled over. "I tell you, Maisie Dobbs, you're one of a kind! Now then, you just turn off that thinking and imagining mind of yours, and let's get some kip"

  Maisie did as she was told, but as she settled into the quiet of the night, she was sorry that the conversation had ended. It was always like that with Enid, as soon as you got a little closer to her, she moved awayYet Maisie knew that at this very moment Enid was thinking of James Compton, hoping that if she held on to a picture of them together, it would come to pass. And Maisie thought of them together, too. Of seeing them on the landing, not long after she had come to work at 15 Ebury Place. She had seen them since, once in Brockwell Park when she was walking with her father. They must have thought that no one would recognize James on the south side of the riverhis sort rarely ventured across the water. Enid was in her Sunday best: her long deep-lavender coat, which she kept hanging in the wardrobe covered in a white sheet and protected by mothballs. Her black woolen skirt poked out underneath, and you could just about see her laced-up boots, polished to a shine. She wore a white blouse with a high neck and a little sprig of lavender pinned to the front of the collar, right where a brooch might have been, if Enid had owned one. She wore black gloves and an old black hat that Maisie had seen her hold over a steaming pot of water in the kitchen, then work with her hands to mold it into shape, before making it look just like new with a band of purple velvet ribbon. Oh, she did look lovely, with her red hair tied in a loose knot so that you could see it beneath her hat. And James, she remembered him laughing when he was with Enid, and just before she managed to steer her father in another direction, so that Enid and James wouldn't see her, she watched as he took the glove off Enid's right hand and lean over to press his lips to her thin knuckles, then turn it over to the palm and kiss it again. And as he stood up, Enid reached up and flicked back his fair hair, which had flopped into his eyes.

  And though she was now snuggled down into the bedclothes and blankets, a hot-water bottle at her feet, Maisie shivered and was frightened. Perhaps she should speak to Dr. Blanche about it, this strange feeling she had at times, as if the future had flashed a picture into her mind, like being at the picture house and seeing only a few seconds' worth of the show

  Joust one week after Enid had taken Maisie into her confidence, James Compton departed on a ship bound for Canada. As a result Enid had become less than affable.

  "I do wish you would turn out that bloomin' light so that I can get some shut-eye. I'm sick of it, I am. 'Alfway through the night and all I can hear is you turnin' those bloomin' pages over and over."

  Maisie looked up from her book, over to the lump that was Enid in the adjoining bed. She could not see Enid's face, for she was curled sideways with her back to Maisie, and the blankets over her head.

  "I'm sorry, Enid, I didn't realize-"

  Suddenly one arm came over the blankets as Enid pulled herself up into a sitting position, her face furiously red. "Well, you wouldn't bloomin' realize, would you, Miss Brainy? Always got yer 'ead in a book round 'ere when everyone else is workin'."

  "But Enid, I pull my weight. No one else has to do my work for me. I can manage my jobs"

  "Oh yes? You can manage your jobs, can you? Well, next time you go over to that mirror to do 'yer 'air, take a look at the sacks of coal under yer eyes.Your idea of pullin' weight is just a bit different from mine. And what with all that other stuff you 'ave to think about, it's a wonder you can get up in the morning. Now then. I'm off t'sleep, and it'd be a good idea if you did the same thing"

  Maisie quickly marked her place in the book Maurice had given her earlier in the week, and extinguished the lamp at her bedside. Pulling the covers up to her shoulders and pressing her hands to her sore, watering eyes, she sought refuge from Enid's words. It seemed to Maisie that since Enid confided in her, she had become standoffish and unpleasant, as if her frustrated aspirations to become a lady had caused an unbearable resentment to grow. Maisie had begun to avoid her when Enid lost her temper at being asked to replenish coal in one of the upstairs rooms, and was reprimanded by Carter. But something must have sparked in Carter, for he called Maisie into the butler's pantry next to the kitchen.

  "Maisie, I am worried about your ability to manage both your routine in the house and the schedule set by Dr. Blanche."

  "Oh, Mr. Carter, I am managing."

  "I want you to know that I will be watching, Maisie. I must obviously support Her Ladyship's wishes, but I must also bring it to her attention if changes should be made"

  "No, you don't have to do that.
I'll manage, sir. I promise"

  "Right you are, Maisie.You may continue with your duties. But do make sure, doubly sure, that your work is complete at the end of the day"

  "Yes, Mr. Carter."

  @Awas with a heavy heart that Maisie visited Frankie Dobbs on the following Sunday. More than at any other time since she had started lessons with Dr. Blanche, Maisie couldn't wait to leave the house and immerse herself in the warmth of the stable and her father's love.

  "There you are. Bit late today, young Maisie, aren't you?"

  "Yes, Dad. I was late getting up, then had to stay to finish some jobs, and missed the bus. I had to wait for the next one"

  "Oh, so you couldn't get up in time on the one day you come to see your poor old dad?"

  "That's not it, honestly, Dad," responded Maisie defensively.

  She took off her hat and coat, folded them and put them on top of her basket, which she left just outside the stable door. She walked over to Persephone and rubbed the soft spot behind her ears.

  "I was just a bit late, that's all, Dad"

  "You doin' too much of that readin'?"

  "No, Dad. No, I'm not"

  "So how about your week then, Love? What've you been doing?"

  "Oh, we had a to-do in the kitchen this week. Mrs. Crawford was experimenting with pouring brandy over the cooked meat and then adding a flame to it. Some new French idea that Lady Compton had asked Carter about. The whole kitchen nearly caught alight. You should have seen it, Dad. It was hilarious!"

  Frankie Dobbs stopped work and looked at Maisie.

  "What is it, Dad?" The smile seemed to evaporate from her face.

  "'Ilarious, was it? I like that. 'ilarious. Can't use ordinary words anymore. Got to use big ones now, 'aven't you?"

  .,But Dad ... I thought ... "

  "That's the trouble with you. Too much of that thinking. I dunno ...."

  Frankie turned his back on Maisie, the set of his shoulders revealing a seldom-seen anger. "I dunno. I thought this was all very well and all, you gettin' an education. Now I dunno. Next thing you know, you won't want to talk to the likes of me"

  "Now that's silly, Dad"

  "Silly, am I?" Frankie looked up again, his eyes blazing.

  "I didn't mean it like that. What I meant was .. " Maisie was exhausted. She let her arm drop to her side. Persephone nuzzled her to continue the ear rubbing, but there was no response. Father and daughter stood in stony silence.

  How had this happened? How was it that one minute it seemed that everyone was on her side, and the next everyone was against her? What had she done wrong? Maisie went over to an upended box in the corner and slumped down. Her furrowed brow belied her youth as she tried to come to terms with the discord between her beloved father and herself.

  "I'm sorry, Dad."

  "I'm sorry, too. Sorry that I ever talked to that Mr. Carter in the first place."

  "You did right, Dad. I would never have had this opportunity. .. "

  Frankie was also tired. Tired of worrying about Maisie, tired of fearing that she would move into circles above her station and never come back. Tired of feeling not good enough for his daughter. "I know, love. I know. Let's 'ave an end to the words. Just make sure you come back and see your old dad of a Sunday."

  Maisie leaned over to Frankie, who had upended another wooden box to sit next to her, put her arms around his neck, and sobbed.

  "Come on, love. Let's put the words behind us"

  "I miss you, Dad"

  "And I miss you, Love."

  Father and daughter held on to each other a moment longer, before Frankie announced that they should be getting along to the park if they were to enjoy the best of the day. They worked together to finish jobs in the stable and, leaving Persephone to her day of rest, went to the park for a walk and to eat the sandwiches that Mrs. Crawford had made for Maisie.

  As she traveled back to Belgravia that evening, Maisie couldn't help but remember Frankie's outburst, and wondered how she would ever balance her responsibilities. As if that were not enough, Enid's tongue was as sharp as a knife again when Maisie entered the room they shared on the top floor of the house.

  "It's a wonder you can bring yourself to see that costermonger father of yours. Isn't he a bit lower class for you now, Maisie?"

  Maisie was stunned and hurt by Enid's words. Slights against herself she could handle, but those against her father she would not tolerate. "My father, Enid, is one of the best"

  "Hmmph. Thought he wouldn't be good enough, what with you bein' 'er Ladyship's pet"

  "Enid, I'm not anyone's pet or favorite. I'm still here, and working hard."

  Enid was lying on her back on the bed, pillows plumped up behind her head. She was reading an old copy of The Lady magazine while speaking to Maisie.

  "Hmmph. Maisie Dobbs, all you've done is give 'er Ladyship a cause. They like causes, do these 'ere toffs. Makes 'er feel like she's doin' something for the lower classes. Right old do-gooder she is, too. And as for that funny old geezer, Blanche, I'd worry about 'im if I was you. D'you really think you can become a lady with all this book lark?"

  "I've told you before, Enid-I don't want to be a lady."

  Maisie folded her day clothes and put them away in the heavy chest of drawers, then took up her hairbrush and began to unbraid her glossy black hair.

  "Then you're as stupid as you are silly lookin'."

  Maisie swung around to look directly at Enid.

  "What is wrong with you? I can't do a thing right!"

  "Let me tell you what's wrong with me, young Maisie. What's wrong with me is that I might not be able to do the learning from books that you can, but mark my words, I'll be out of here before you, 'er Ladyship or not."

  "But I'm not stopping you-"

  In frustration Enid flounced to her feet, pulled back the bedclothes, and threw herself into bed. Without saying goodnight, she turned her back on Maisie, as had become her habit.

  Maisie said nothing more, but climbed into her heavy brass bed to lie upon the hard horsehair mattress between cold white muslin sheets. Without attempting to read her book or work on the assignment Maurice Blanche had given her, she turned out the light.

  Jealousy. Now she was beginning to understand jealousy. Together with the exchanges of the past few weeks, and the heated conversation with her father, Maisie was also beginning to feel fully the challenge of following her dream. And she was disturbed, not for the first time, by Enid's words about Lady Rowan. Was she just a temporary diversion for Lady Rowan, a sop to her conscience so she could feel as if she was doing something for society? Maisie couldn't believe this, for time and time again she had seen genuine interest and concern on her employer's face.

  (0-, Maisie. Let me see your work. How are you progressing with Jung?"

  Maisie walked into the library for her meeting with Maurice Blanche and stood before him.

  "Sit down, sit down. Let us begin. We have much work to do"

  Maisie silently placed her books in front of him.

  "What is it, Maisie?"

  "I don't think, Dr. Blanche, that I can have lessons with you anymore."

  Maurice Blanche said nothing but nodded his head and studied Maisie's countenance. Silence seeped into the space between them, and Maurice immediately noticed the single tear that emerged from Maisie's right eye and drizzled down her face.

  "Ah, yes, the challenge of position and place, I think"

  Maisie sniffed and met Blanche's look. She nodded.

  "Yes. It has been long overdue. We have been fortunate thus far, have we not, Maisie?"

  Once again Maisie nodded She expected to be dismissed, as she would in turn dismiss her ambitions and the dream she had nurtured since first planning to visit the Comptons' library at three o'clock in the morning so long ago.

  Instead Maurice took up the book he had assigned at their last meeting, along with her notes, and the lessons she had completed in the subjects of English, mathematics, and geography.


  Looking through her work, Maurice inclined his head here, and raised his eyebrows there. Maisie said nothing, but inspected her hands and pulled at a loose thread in her white pinafore.

  "Maisie. Please complete these two final chapters while I speak with Lady Rowan."

  Once again Maisie was left, if only for a short time, to wonder at her fate, and whether all would be well. As Maurice Blanche left the room, Maisie took up the book and turned to the chapters he had indicated. But try as she might, she could not read past the first paragraph of her assignment and retain what she had read. Instead she put her right hand to her mouth and with her teeth worried a hangnail on her little finger. By the time Maurice Blanche returned with Lady Rowan and Carter, Maisie had to plunge her right hand into her pinafore pocket so that the blood now oozing from the cuticle would not be seen.

  Clearly much discussion had taken place in the interim. It fell to Carter, as head of the domestic staff, to stand at Lady Rowan's side as she told Maisie of a plan that had been incubating and had just hatched, inspired by her genuine need. It was a plan that would in turn help Maisie. And not a moment too soon.

  "Maisie, the Dowager Lady Compton lives in the dower house at Chelstone Manor, in Kent. My mother-in-law is in command of her faculties but has some difficulty in movement, and she does sleep long hours now that she is of advanced age. Her personal maid gave notice some weeks ago, due to impending marriage."

  Lady Rowan glanced at Maurice Blanche and at Carter before continuing. "Maisie, I would like to offer you the position"

  Maisie said nothing, but looked intently at Lady Rowan, then at Carter, who simply nodded, then raised an eyebrow, and focused his gaze quickly on her hand in the pinafore pocket.

  Maisie stood up straighter, twisted a handkerchief around the sore finger, and brought her hand to her side.

  "The Dowager Lady Compton has only a small staff," said Lady Rowan, "as befits her needs. Aside from her personal maid and a nurse, household staff do not live at the dower house but at the manor. When we are in residence, as you know, Carter and Mrs. Crawford travel to Chelstone to join the staff. However, Mrs. Johnson, the housekeeper, is in sole charge of the household at Chelstone while we are in London"