A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [0]
A Maisie Dobbs Novel
Jacqueline Winspear
Dedication
For my brother,
John James Winspear,
with much love and admiration
Epigraph
If you reveal your secrets to the wind you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.
—KAHLIL GIBRAN
He who gives up the smallest part of a secret has the rest no longer in his power.
—JEAN PAUL RICHTER
Contents
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Jacqueline Winspear
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
Maisie Dobbs had been aware of the motor car following her for some time. She contemplated the vehicle, the way in which the driver remained far enough away to avoid detection—or so he thought—and yet close enough not to lose her. Occasionally another motor car would slip between them, but the driver of the black saloon would allow no more than one other car to narrow his view of her crimson MG 14/40. She had noticed the vehicle even before she left the village of Chelstone, but to be fair, almost without conscious thought, she was looking out for it. She had been followed—either on foot, on the underground railway, or by motor vehicle—for over a week now and was waiting for some move to be made by the occupants. This morning, though, as she drove back to London, her mood was not as settled as she might have liked, and the cause of her frustration—indeed, irritation—was not the men who followed her, but her father.
Maisie was now a woman with a good measure of financial independence, having inherited wealth in the form of a considerable property portfolio as well as investments and cash from her late mentor, Dr. Maurice Blanche. To the outside observer, the windfall had not changed her character, or her attachment to her work; but those who knew her best could see that it had bestowed upon her a newfound confidence, along with a responsibility she felt to Blanche’s memory. Dust was settling on the events of his death, and as she moved through the grief of his passing to acceptance of her loss in the process of going through Blanche’s personal papers, Maisie wanted—possibly more than anything—to see her father retired, resting, and living at The Dower House. She had not been prepared for her plans to be at odds with his own, and this morning’s conversation, over tea at the kitchen table in the Groom’s Cottage, capped several months of similar exchanges.
“Dad, you’ve worked hard all your life, you deserve something better. Come and live at The Dower House. Look, I’m away throughout the week in London, so it’s not as if we’ll get under each other’s feet. I don’t see how we could do that anyway—it’s a big enough house.”
“Maisie, we’ve always rubbed along well together, you and me. We could be in this cottage and live happily enough. You’re my own flesh and blood. But this is my home—Her Ladyship has always said as much, that this house is mine until the day I die. And I’m not ready to hang up my boots to sit in an armchair and wait for that day to come.”
Frankie Dobbs was now in his early seventies, and though he had suffered a debilitating fall several years earlier, he was in good health once again, if perhaps not quite as light on his feet. His role as head groom—a job that came with the tied cottage—now chiefly comprised advising Lady Rowan Compton on purchases to expand her string of racehorses, along with overseeing the stable of hunters at Chelstone, the Comptons’ country seat.
“Well, what about not giving up work and just moving into The Dower House? Mrs. Bromley will take care of you—she’s such a good cook, every bit as good as—”
Frankie set down his mug with a thump that made Maisie start. “I can do for myself, Maisie.” He sighed. “Look, I’m happy for you, love, really I am. The old boy did well by you, and you deserve all