A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [33]
It was only as she left the room that she remembered that she had walked to the college in the morning, but she had no intention of going back in to ask for a lift back to her lodging house. Her briefcase was quite heavy now as she walked along the corridor, at the end of which she stopped to thank the night watchman as he opened the heavy door for her to leave. She had intended to draw MacFarlane’s attention to the photographs she had taken from Liddicote’s office; she knew she should have informed him of their existence. But his harsh response to her final question had surprised her. She could not do the job for Huntley if she were effectively banned from seeking the person who had murdered the founder of the college she was investigating.
Tonight she would read through the files she had taken—those of Francesca Thomas and Delphine Lang. One thing had surprised her—or had it? Perhaps it had not taken her aback as much as she might have expected; but all the same, it was interesting to note that the file pertaining to Miss Rosemary Linden was not among those left for the detectives to mull over.
Chapter Six
In her room that evening, with the windows open and the fragrance of night-scented stock rising up from the garden below, Maisie curled her legs under her as she relaxed into the armchair. Her landlady had left a sandwich covered with an extra plate in the kitchen; and with a cup of tea set on a table alongside her, she flipped open Francesca Thomas’ personal file.
Thomas was now forty-one years of age, and, although born in Switzerland, she was educated at Oxford University and the Sorbonne, in Paris. There was no mention of her marital situation, so one could only assume she was a spinster. There was no notation as to where she had received her doctorate, only that her teaching career—which had begun in 1925—had taken her from France to Germany, then on to the College of St. Francis, where just a year earlier she had become the first woman to join the staff. According to the file, she had published papers on French literature as well as on subjects such as “The Philosopher and Modern Society.” Her two letters of reference had come from the Sorbonne and from Oxford, the latter provided by Professor Jennifer Penhaligon at Somerville College.
Maisie sighed. “Nothing much to pick at there,” she said aloud to the empty room, though she made a notation to contact Professor Penhaligon.
Setting the pages to one side, she flipped open the folder for Delphine Lang, who, it transpired, was twenty-six years of age. Following education at Roedean—No surprise, thought Maisie—Delphine Lang attended university in London, but in short order went on to Heidelberg to continue her education. Delphine probably didn’t need to work—there was a note in Liddicote’s hand to the effect that her father was a wealthy man—so the fact that she had sought out a profession was to her credit. Maisie was aware that her own generation of women had set an example to those who followed, and more women were choosing education and a job—with the former available only to those who could afford it.
Without doubt, Delphine Lang was well educated, and her references were “First Rate!” as Greville Liddicote had noted on the corner of her original inquiry letter. But her contract, which had begun in January, was for only one year and expired at the end of 1932—unless the contract was renewed, Delphine Lang would be out of a job in three months.
At that point, Maisie realized that she had not even been asked to sign a contract. She wondered if that might affect her position, now that Liddicote was no longer principal—after