A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [112]
“I saw you there, too, Dr. Thomas. Only you were dressed as a man.”
“What gave me away, if I may ask?”
“Your cigarette; the way you held it and discarded the remains after barely smoking half.”
“You’re an observant one, after all. I’ll give you that.” She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped, as if she wanted to let Maisie in on a tightly held secret. “The infiltration of universities and other such institutions is only one stream of the threat. Your aristocracy, members of your government, indeed, the heir to your throne—they are all quite taken with this man Adolf Hitler. But we know better, we—”
“Dr. Thomas, why do you say we? I was informed at the college that you were of Anglo-Swiss parentage.”
“My maternal grandmother was Belgian. I adored her, and I was close to my family there.” She sighed. “I am willing to brief you on my involvement in the security of my country; however, I must have your word that you will not divulge any detail—not a single crumb of information—of what you will hear to another. Even Brian Huntley.”
Maisie looked into the woman’s eyes, her surprise upon hearing Huntley’s name masked by an outer calm. And at that moment she saw a shadow of deep sorrow and remembered a conversation with Maurice about the old proverb “Eyes are the windows to the soul.” She thought, now, that if it were indeed so, then Francesca Thomas had chosen this time to slip the lock on her past and allow memories to escape. Instinct told her that what had come to pass in this woman’s earlier years would chill her to the bone
“You have my word.”
As you know, I worked for the Secret Intelligence Service here in London. There were many departments that fell under the auspices of the broader security organization, and I worked in several different ones. I don’t know if this will surprise you, but many, many women worked for the Secret Service—tens of thousands in London alone.”
“I was not aware that such numbers were involved.”
“The men were off fighting; and if they weren’t, and they happened to be able-bodied, they were under suspicion anyway. Of course there were some rather tedious jobs there—intercepting mail from overseas, breaking codes, and so on; but at the same time, women were working on matters of great significance.” Thomas paused. “The interesting thing is that one wasn’t heavily interrogated prior to being offered a job. They were more interested in where you were educated, who your father was, and what you could do for them. In any case, as time went on, and more and more intelligence was coming through about the situation in Belgium, I realized I wanted to be with my family there. I wanted to save them.” She gave a half-laugh and looked away for a few seconds before continuing. “There were intelligence groups working all over the Low Countries and northern France, and I thought I would make a good soldier—I was young, I speak several languages fluently, and I was filled with a desire to do more than sit at a desk and go through letters that might be coded.”
“How did you get to Belgium?”
“By parting with some money—a good deal of money, actually. I resigned my position and was smuggled into the country and to my grandmother’s house. I speak both Dutch and French Flemish, so I could easily blend into the community. And it didn’t take me long to make contact with a group of what you might call resistance agents. Then in 1917 I joined a somewhat new organization called La Dame Blanche—The White Lady. It was a highly structured movement—we were organized along military lines—and we were financed by the British government.”
Maisie nodded. She remembered seeing a folder labeled “La Dame Blanche” inside a box in the cellar of The Dower House. She had assumed it was something to do with Maurice’s family.
“You might be interested to know that women of all ages were part of La Dame Blanche—our leaders were aware that the men could all be captured, rounded up, so there was a plan in place for the work