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

London, so Maisie traveled with the family by train as far as Paddington.There was little conversation at first, aside from a tight-mouthed “Well, that went off very well” from Priscilla. Maisiethought the journey would be long and difficult, but soon the mood in the carriage changed as Priscilla’s sons began to reminisce,sharing their stories of Elinor.

“Remember when she made Tim sit on the stairs with one of her scarves wrapped around his mouth because he was cheeky?”

“And she tied his ankles with string, and he had to sit on his hands!”

“What about when she drenched Tom with a bucket of water—you’d been flicking water at her after she told you to go and makeyour bed, but she waited for you in the garden with that bucket until you came out to find your bicycle—ha! I thought Tarqwould split open laughing!”

“Tarquin was the worst.”

“I was not!”

“And she spoiled you.”

“Far from it! She smacked my bottom more than once—it’s a wonder I can sit down today.”

“Well, you deserved it—you were a little monster. But she sorted you out!”

And so it went on, the telling of stories about Elinor, a sad journey made lighter by bittersweet remembering.

 

From Paddington Maisie took a taxi across to Charing Cross and caught a train to Tonbridge, where she would change for thebranch line service to Chelstone. The solitary journey offered a welcome moment in which to read the letter from Elinor inprivate.

Dear Maisie,

If you are reading this, then you probably know exactly what has happened to me. I know I’m not really supposed to write this sort of letter, but I want to thank you for not striking me off the list of agents, and for entrusting me with this work even though you had your doubts. I am incredibly grateful for this chance to do something of worth. Am I scared? Yes, I am. In fact I am terrified that I will make a poor job of things. But be assured I have done my best, whatever happened to cause this letter to be handed to you.

Please look after my family. I know I was an employee, but I felt like I had a real family from the moment I was sent to work for Mrs. P., and I cannot imagine never seeing them again. I don’t think she knows quite how young I was when I was sent to help her. I’d barely left school, but I knew how to look after babies. I was good with children and I soon learned how to get those boys to do what I wanted. Seeing them grow into men has made me proud, but I’ve feared for them. If anything I do will stop this war sooner so that my family remain safe, then I will do it. I’m terrified of losing one of those boys more than I dread death.

Look after Mrs. P. She’s been so brave, and I know the skin operations frighten her.

I don’t think there’s more to say, Maisie, except I hope you know that I consider you my family too. You could have stopped me doing this, but you didn’t, and that means the world to me.

Until we meet again.

Elinor

PS: I thought I should call you “Maisie” in the circumstances. I hope you don’t mind.

Maisie read the letter one more time, then tore it into small pieces, which she placed in the envelope to burn later. Thenshe closed her eyes and whispered: “Roedd hi'n annwyl iawn.”

 

George collected Maisie from the station, and although it was almost dusk, she asked him to drop her off at the end of the drive leading up to the Dower House. She took care not to draw attention to her arrival as she approached the back door and looked through the window, thankful the blackout curtains had not yet been drawn. Brenda was standing alongside the stove, while Frankie sat at the table opposite Mark Scott. Anna ran into the kitchen, clad in her pajamas and dressing gown, a puppy trailing in her wake, tugging at her belt as she clambered onto Mark’s lap and pulled his arms around her.

At last, the lonely days were over.

 

“I guess a registrar is like a justice of the peace back home. That was so fast, I’m not sure if I’m now your husband or ifI just landed a job as your chef.”

“Actually, Mark—what we just did means you’re both,” said Maisie, feeling the comfort of her new husband’s arm around heras George drove them from the register office in Tunbridge Wells, then home to Chelstone Manor, where the Comptons’ butlerwas overseeing a luncheon for a dozen guests at the manor house. When the luncheon concluded, with a round of planned speechesincluding a few words from Priscilla, who insisted on throwing tradition to the wind so she could extol the virtues of thebride and not let the groom forget even one of them, George would then whisk the couple away to the Mermaid Inn in Rye forthe night. A larger reception would be held on the morrow, following a late-afternoon church blessing of the union. Therewould be a four-course supper and a party to follow, after which guests would filter out into the pitch darkness of the blackout.

“And what about that hat Priscilla was wearing? Do you Brits always go for really strange headwear when you go to a wedding?”

“She’s still a bit embarrassed about the scars on her face, though I don’t really think you can see them,” said Maisie. “Andthe skin grafts she’s having on Monday will help diminish the scars even more—when they heal.”

“I wonder what she’ll wear to the church tomorrow,” said Mark.

“Oh, that’s a much more elaborate affair, so she’ll wear something outrageous, you can depend on that. A church wedding—or in our case a blessing—is an occasion for Priscilla to shine. As you’ve just seen, a register office marriage is over in minutes.”

Scott nodded and kissed his new wife on the