A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [20]
“Right you are. Telephone when you know the lay of the land,” said MacFarlane, by way of good-bye.
As Maisie walked along the corridor on her way to the office, she took the liberty of checking the waiting room to see if the other candidates were still on the premises and was hopeful when it appeared they had left. She informed Miss Linden of her return; the secretary said little before escorting her directly to Greville Liddicote’s office.
“Miss Dobbs,” said Liddicote, taking her hand in both his own. “Welcome to St. Francis. You’ve been selected to join us as junior lecturer in philosophy. You are still here, so I take it that you intend to accept our offer.”
“Yes, indeed, I’m delighted.”
“Come now, the staff are waiting to be introduced.”
Miss Linden was offering glasses of sherry to the staff when Greville Liddicote brought Maisie into the library meeting room. Rapping his knuckles against the wooden table, Liddicote brought the twelve or so gathered to order—Maisie noticed that she was one of only three women, and was surprised there were not more, given the number of women who had entered the teaching profession since the war. Among the staff were a professor of English and American literature visiting from a college in Ohio, and a Swedish lecturer in Greek literature and English fairy tales, as well as Matthias Roth and Francesca Thomas. To her surprise, the young blond woman was introduced as Delphine Lang, a teaching assistant who had recently graduated from the University of Heidelberg, though in Maisie’s estimation she spoke English with a Home Counties accent that could cut glass as easily as the voice of Dr. Francesca Thomas. And as the welcoming reception went on into the early evening, Maisie noticed Roth making his way towards Delphine Lang, and when she turned to continue her conversation with Francesca Thomas, it was evident that Thomas was following the pair with deep interest.
Chapter Four
How are you, Miss Dobbs?” inquired Sandra, when Maisie telephoned the office from Cambridge the following morning.
Maisie worried that Sandra’s cheery tone sounded forced but thought it best to answer in the same vein. “Very well, though I could have chosen a quieter hotel, I must say. The good news is that I have been offered the position—if Dr. Blanche were here, he would be thrilled.” Again, the subterfuge came with ease. “I’ll be back in London late this afternoon, after I’ve found somewhere to live while I’m here. Is everything all right? Did that new client, Mr. Trent, call again yesterday?”
“Yes, and Mr. Beale spoke to him.”
“Mr. Beale?”
“Well, as you know, he came back early from hop-picking. Mrs. Beale wasn’t feeling very well, so they returned on Saturday.”
“How is she now—do you know?”
“I think it’s just that it’s the last month. They say it’s the worst; all you want is for it to be over and done with. Not that I’d know anything about having babies.”
Maisie heard a catch in her voice and it struck her that, of course, she and Eric had expected to start a family; Sandra had probably hoped to have a child soon.
“Is Mr. Beale there?”
“No. I expect he’s got his hands full.”
“Yes, of course. Well, when he comes in, tell him I’ll be back later. Everything else all right?”
“There was a telephone call from Canada. It was very strange, the operator saying she had Mr. Compton on the line for Miss Dobbs, but it was as if she was talking through cardboard, and her voice kept coming and going.”
“Yes, that happens on those telephone calls.”
“Anyway, I told her you were out and she said ‘Thank you’ and went.”
“He doesn’t know there’s a telephone at home yet.”
Maisie was aware that she had referred to James Compton as “he”—and she knew it was because she did not want to use his title. As the son of a man who had several titles