Jacqueline Winspear - The Mapping of Love and Death

When her visits were complete, Maisie compiled her written report for Michael Clifton's parents, which she placed in a box along with a final statement of her charges and Michael's belongings previously entrusted to her. Before packing the journal, she lifted the leather cover once again and began to read.

I'm finally on the high seas bound for jolly old England. Dad wrote to me in New York to say I was out of my mind, that I didn't know what I was doing. He said war was something that old men get us into and young men rush into, and that if I had any sense at all I'd come home. Then he wired me to say that he and Mother loved me very much, that they were proud of me. He told me I was under orders to remember everything that happened to me so I'll have some good stories to tell around the tree at Christmas. So, here I go! Michael Clifton's Grand Adventure Over There, Part One…

She closed the journal and set it in the box to be delivered to Mr. and Mrs. Edward Clifton at The Dorchester Hotel.

There, I think it's all done now, Billy."

"Can we fold the map and put it away in the file then?"

"Yes. Seeing that table bare is always a bit of a dubious pleasure," said Maisie. "There's the joy of knowing the work's done, and the worry that another big case will never come in."

"We're always all right, though, aren't we, Miss?'

"A sizable job seems to present itself in the nick of time, and while we wait, there are always these little bits and pieces to be getting on with."

Billy walked across to the table by the window, where he unpinned the Clifton case map, folded it with care, and put it away. Maisie sighed and leaned back, wondering whether this was the right time to talk to Billy. She still could not put her finger on her reason for thinking that something was amiss, that there was a change about him, but she also knew that she was rarely wrong in her suspicions.

"How's Doreen, Billy? Did she get on all right at her checkup?"

"Fit as a fiddle. Dr. Masters is very pleased." He did not turn to reply to her question.

"Good. Yes, that's good news."

Still holding a folder in his hand, he came to Maisie's desk and stood before her.

"Why don't you sit down, Billy." She held out her hand to the empty chair and waited for him to speak.

"I can't keep a secret from you, Miss, never could. It's written all over my face, I know it."

"And I've known you for a while, so perhaps I see things that others mightn't."

"It's Doreen."

"Yes."

"She's in the family way."

"Oh, Billy! Billy-what lovely news. Congratulations!"

Billy pursed his lips, then broke into a smile. "I was worried, to tell you the truth, Miss, but I'm dead chuffed-we're both as pleased as punch. It's a bit of light for us, though as I said to Doreen, we've still got to get ourselves out of here, get over there to Canada. We've got a new nipper to think about as well as our boys, and we want the best for them." Billy's words seemed to tumble out as he spoke of his plans, thoughts, and concerns. "I mean, Doreen went off the idea of Canada, to tell you the truth. She didn't want to leave our little Lizzie cold in the ground without us around the corner, but now, with the new baby on the way, she wants the best, doesn't want to lose another one."

"Billy, how far along is she? When's the baby due?" Maisie tried not to convey her own concerns: Doreen's health was still so fragile, carrying the baby brought with it a risk of miscarriage or stillbirth.

"Reckon it'll be an October baby-she's about three months gone now." He blushed. "The doctor said we had to be careful, and I know she's not very happy about it, but it's not like we meant it to happen, and Doreen-"

Maisie reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "I am sure everything will be all right, Billy."

"I reckon so. Doreen's really perked up, though she's a bit off-color of a morning." He smiled again. "Well, this won't do, will it? I'd better get on with some work today. Cuppa tea?"

"I'd love one, Billy."

As he left the room with the tea tray, Maisie walked to the window to look out across Fitzroy Square. Daffodils nodded their golden heads in a light breeze, reminding Maisie of a column of excited schoolchildren in yellow uniforms. A few clouds scudded across the sky, and she thought there might be some rain before the day's end. Her heart was full with Billy's news, and with all that had happened in the past weeks. Maurice's funeral was just two days away and, in truth, she dreaded the moment when she would have to say a final good-bye.

The day of the funeral was bright but not too warm. Once again Maisie dressed in her black day dress, a black cloche, and black shoes, and longed for the day to be over. When they arrived at Chelstone village church, she could barely believe the number of people who had come to pay their respects. Among those she knew-Lord Julian, Lady Rowan, James Compton, Maurice's housekeeper, Billy Beale, Andrew Dene-were several men whom she recognized to be government ministers. Richard Stratton and Robert MacFarlane from Special Branch were there, wearing black armbands to signify they were mourners. She was somewhat surprised to see the famous pathologist Sir Bernard Spilsbury, along with various men and women of letters, some of whom she had met years ago, when she was Maurice's eager student.

As she moved towards the church with her arm linked through her father's, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Brian Huntley, whom she had met through Maurice almost two years before. He was with the Secret Service.

"Miss Dobbs. Allow me to express my condolences. He will be greatly missed."

"Yes, he will, Mr. Huntley. It was good of you to come today."

"He was a most trusted servant. I learned much from working for him." He cleared his throat, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I am sure we will meet again soon, Miss Dobbs."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Huntley, I-"

Huntley gave a brief smile, and turned to enter the church.

"All right, love?" asked Frankie.

"Yes, Dad. Don't worry. It's time now-we'd better go in." She increased her hold on her father's arm as they followed the snake of black-clad mourners.

The service was simple and without ostentation, according to Maurice's last wishes, and following the round of prayers and hymns, he was laid to rest under the boughs of an oak tree in a far corner of the ancient churchyard. Maisie joined James and his parents to shake the hands of mourners, and was surprised when Lady Rowan insisted Maisie be first in line.

"He had no family, Maisie-I am sure he would have wanted you to stand for him."

She stood as instructed by Lady Rowan, and when her ankles and back began to ache, wanted nothing more than to go back to her father's house to rest in a comfortable armchair with her feet up. There would be no opportunity for such repose until after a reception with light fare for invited guests at The Dower House. For his part, Frankie Dobbs preferred to return home, and had already informed Maisie, "I'd rather sit in my kitchen and pay my respects to the old boy with my memories, if it's all the same to you."

She had been at the reception about an hour when guests began to depart, and she thought it would not seem too soon for her to take her leave. Part of her wanted to walk through The Dower House, for she had known the property intimately, having been but a girl when she lived there as companion to the old dowager in the months before she passed away. It was after her death that Maurice had purchased The Dower House, along with a substantial acreage of land that had belonged to the property when it was first built several centuries earlier. But it was too late to take that final look now. Maurice had gone and, like her father, she wanted to honor him with her memories. She bid farewell to several guests, and informed James Compton of her leaving. They'd had precious little time to speak in recent days, and Maisie was still smarting from her conversation with Lady Rowan.