The Consequences of Fear, Jacqueline Winspear [most important books to read TXT] 📗

“Being engaged making you soft, Maisie?”

Maisie shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“I’ll remind you yet again that yours is not the only word, my friend. It’s just one impression. Others make the final decision,Maisie.”

Maisie came to her feet at the same time as Robert MacFarlane. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“That Yank had better look after you, Maisie, or he will have to answer to me along a dark street on a stormy night.”

“Oh, I think he knows that, Robbie.” She drew away. “And you take care.”

“I will, hen, I know how to look after myself. I’ll see you at your big party on December the seventh!”

She was reaching for the door knob when MacFarlane called her back.

“Maisie!”

“Yes?”

“I forgot to tell you. Major Chaput.”

“What about him?”

“He’s dead. He organized an unusually destructive act of sabotage against the enemy. A Nazi train carrying vital suppliesof materiel, supplies, men and—well, and you name it—was struck and completely destroyed. Chaput led a small band from thefront and was killed in the act of landing a hard blow on the enemy. The other agents survived.”

“He did it deliberately, didn’t he?”

“He paid his debt, and he made up for his actions in Syria. He died a hero. The piper has been paid, Maisie. The scales ofjustice are even again.”

On the day Maisie completed her final accounting, she returned to her Holland Park flat weary, yet knowing she had done whatshe had set out to do, which was to find a killer with scars on his face, whether natural or inflicted by a weapon. She wastired, yet buoyed by thoughts of what might come next. As she walked along the path to the front door of her garden flat,she could already hear Mark Scott singing a number from a picture he’d seen while back in the United States. The words rangout as she opened the door. At last my love has come along . . .

She ran into his arms, to be held in place for what seemed like ages.

“You okay, my love?”

“Yes, Mark, I’m okay.”

“Happy?”

“Very much.”

“Wine?”

“Love some.”

“And guess what we have for dinner.”

“Spaghetti.”

“You know me too well.”

“I certainly do.”

“I cannot wait for you to be my wife. At last.”

Maisie rested her head on the shoulder of the man she loved, closing her eyes as he continued the song, and they began a slowdance.

Epilogue

The family Elinor Jones had loved for over twenty years stood shoulder to shoulder in the small chapel. Maisie took a placenext to Priscilla, and reached for her hand. Robert MacFarlane was on her other side, his voice booming during the one hymn,Elinor’s favorite, which she had specified in her will. It was “Cwm Rhondda,” a Welsh hymn, and as they reached the finalverse, every member of the congregation raised their voice.

When I tread the verge of Jordan,

Bid my anxious fears subside;

Death of death, and hell's destruction

Land me safe on Canaan's side:

Songs of praises, songs of praises,

I will ever give to thee;

I will ever give to thee.

At the back of the chapel, Corporal Charlie Bright, who had brought MacFarlane and Tim to the barracks, stood to attention. The young woman who had received every one of Elinor’s messages sent from France for the eyes of the Special Operations Executive was in the opposite pew, along with a smattering of people from the headquarters in London. They did not remain to talk after the service, and Maisie would not have recognized them again if she passed them in the street.

There was little said between those gathered while the chaplain shook the hand of each member of the congregation as theydeparted the chapel. In silence they stood outside, before stepping toward the motor cars that would whisk them away to theirindividual destinations.

Out of the corner of her eye Maisie saw Corporal Bright beckon to her from a corner of the garden at the rear of the chapel.As Maisie joined Bright, the ATS driver turned away so no one else could discern their conversation, or see what might passbetween them.

“Miss Dobbs, I have something for you.”

“For me? What is it, Corporal Bright?”

“This letter is for you. The woman who died—I was the driver who took her from the house in Hampshire to the airfield. I haveto do that sometimes, so I know where they’re going. She gave it to me to give to you if . . . if something happened to her.She knew I’d probably find out, one way or another. You hear a lot, driving the sort of people I have as passengers.” Sheglanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to them. “I know she didn’t die driving a lorry.” She handed Maisie awhite envelope. “Anyway, better take this before Mr. MacFarlane comes over.”

Maisie took the envelope and slipped it into her pocket. “You know, Corporal Bright, I wondered why our paths kept crossing.When that sort of thing happens, it sparks my curiosity, and usually there is a reason for the constant reappearance of aperson as I go about my work. Yet I just couldn’t work out what it was about you. Now I know. You really are a messenger.”

“I s’pose you could look at it like that, but—”

“Shhh—here’s comes MacFarlane,” said Maisie, turning to the approaching Scotsman. “Robbie—Corporal Bright was just asking me about my engagement.”

“I wanted to wish Miss Dobbs every happiness, sir, being as I was the only witness to the proposal. Are you ready to leavenow, Mr. MacFarlane?”

MacFarlane raised an eyebrow. “When you are, Bright. Only when you are.”

Corporal Charlotte Bright turned to Maisie and saluted, then began to walk toward the black motor car parked on gravel infront of the chapel.

“Interesting little exchange with Bright, was it, Maisie?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“‘Just asking me about my engagement,’ blah, blah, blah. You’d think I was born yesterday.” Robert MacFarlane smiled, thenfollowed Corporal Bright, the messenger, toward the motor car.

Priscilla, Douglas and their sons had decided to remain in