To Die but Once (Maisie Dobbs #14)(97)
“What will happen to him, Robbie? What will happen to Walter?”
“Eventually? He’ll be hanged. Very, very slowly.”
Maisie shook her head. “But—”
MacFarlane held up his hand to silence her. “Timothy Partridge. Wounded. Gordon Sanderson, a boy of sixteen doing his best for his country. Dead. Francis Able, Caldwell’s former assistant. Dead. And Sandy MacFarlane, eighteen years of age. My nephew. Dead,” said MacFarlane. “If you’d been caught in Munich, you would have faced a firing squad. Need we say more? I’ll be in touch.”
Maisie spent some eleven days at Chelstone. During that time Priscilla and Douglas made the decision to move into a tied cottage that had become vacant on one of the manor’s farms. The former tenant had died several months earlier, and the cottage had lain vacant, so Lord Julian suggested that the family could take up residence while Tim convalesced, though until essential work had been completed on the cottage, they would be staying with Maisie.
Tom had returned to Northumberland, having spent much of his compassionate leave at his brother’s bedside, his uniform working a magic on the matron, who failed to reprimand him when he overstayed visiting hours. Now, on a day when the sun was shining, Maisie and Priscilla had thrown a blanket down on the Dower House lawn, and were lazing in mid-afternoon warmth. Only the occasional cumulus cloud passing across the blue sky cast a shadow before moving on.
“Surprisingly, I am not at all in a hurry to return home to London full-time,” said Priscilla. “Yes, there is the issue of Tarquin finishing the school year, but I have found an excellent tutor locally—a former teacher at Tonbridge School—and Tarquin’s studies will be directed by him until he starts again in September, when he will most likely go to Tonbridge anyway. The man only lives in Plaxtol, so my son can rumble off to see him on that old bike he found in your shed. And if Tarq doesn’t like that school after he starts, then we’ll find him another. My younger two have rather rebelled against the yoke of discipline.”
“That’s got one of you sorted out. And Douglas seems quite content working in the library, though we have to prepare for Tim coming home. Anna is very excited.” Maisie looked at her watch. “She’ll be back from school soon. Dad has taken out the governess cart to collect her—I’m amazed he’s trained Lady to draw a carriage, and Anna thinks it’s wonderful!” Maisie stood up and pointed to the estate’s entrance. “I can tell they’re on their way because Emma is waiting by the gates at the end of the drive. And I bet the first thing Anna does is rush to the conservatory to see if Tim’s home.”
“Perhaps she’ll be able to bring him out of his funk when he’s here. Tom did his best for a couple of days, but I fear it’s going to be terribly hard, getting him to buck up.” Priscilla tapped the silver cigarette resting on the arm of her wooden chair, but did not attempt to light up. “Douglas says we must let him grieve the loss, but at the same time, he must be kept occupied, and then he must also rest. Your stepmother swears by the efficacy of slowly simmered bone broth, and I have lost count of the gallons we’ve taken into the hospital. The staff have been very good about it.”
“Brenda will make sure Tim wants for nothing—and I think it’s given her another cause,” said Maisie. “Brenda likes a cause—for her Maurice was a cause, and so was I. In fact, I believe I’m still one of her causes!”
Priscilla was about to comment when Anna came running into the garden, her leather satchel bouncing against her hip. She made a beeline for Maisie’s open arms.
“Oh that’s a full satchel!” said Maisie as Anna slithered to the ground, giggling.
“Auntie Pris—is Tim home?”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but not yet. Soon though.”
“Come on, let’s all go inside,” said Maisie. “Auntie Brenda’s made some Eccles cakes and I think they’re still warm.”
Tim had still not been discharged from the Royal East Sussex Hospital when Maisie caught the early train up to London on the morning of June 17th. In the meantime, life at the Dower House had become more settled, despite news of the fall of Paris on June 14th. It was time for Maisie to get back to work, and more especially to embark upon her final accounting. For work to commence on a new case, it was necessary to visit the people and places that had become significant in the course of bringing an investigation to a satisfactory close. It was a wiping of the slate—to a point—because it also encouraged greater understanding of lessons learned, and errors made, so that those mistakes might not be repeated in the future.
Billy was waiting for her in the office following their extended leave. “There you are! Miss, you will never—never—guess what!”
“I’m sure I won’t,” said Maisie, taking off her hat and placing it on the long table in her office. The case map outlining the Joe Coombes investigation had been folded and filed away, consigned to the past after the contents were revealed to Inspector Caldwell. She looked from Billy to Sandra, who came into the office as Maisie was responding to Billy’s greeting. “And good morning to you, Billy, Sandra—did you both have an enjoyable holiday away from Fitzroy Square?”
“I could have done with a holiday from Lawrence’s aunt,” said Sandra. “She’s overstayed her welcome. She is good with Martin though—but we’re relieved she’s leaving at the end of the week.”