The Consequences of Fear by Jacqueline Winspear (the best electronic book reader TXT) 📗

Secrets Act, so you should know I am part of that swearing to secrecy. You must not reveal to anyone that you have seen me here. Is that clear?”

Pascale nodded. “Yes. Yes, it is—Miss Dobbs.”

“Good.” Maisie avoided Pascale’s gaze. She was finding it even more difficult to maintain a formal tone than she had anticipated.“I take it your aunt has absolutely no knowledge of your candidacy for this position.”

“I never told her. I’ve hardly seen her since I came over—well, as you know I stayed at the house with them for a short time,but they were in Kent at the cottage. After a little while I moved into digs with another girl—but you know that. Then I wasbusy with my job as a translator. Well, until this job came along. And I don’t have to worry about money.” The young womanbrushed a stray hair back behind her ear. “I have funds.”

“Indeed.” Maisie opened the folder. “Hmmm, yes. The flat’s in Notting Hill. Not terribly far from Mrs. Partridge’s Londonhouse.”

“And yours.”

“Quite.” Maisie raised an eyebrow. “Now, perhaps you can tell me how you came to the attention of this section.”

Priscilla’s niece looked down at her hands, then back to Maisie. “I thought you might know.”

“A few details are outstanding, so perhaps you can fill in those gaps for me.”

Pascale cleared her throat. “I was staying at Tante Priscilla’s house—she wasn’t there and neither were the boys or UncleDouglas. He was with her in Kent. Then Elinor came home to her room.”

Elinor had once been the boys’ nanny and had worked for the family in France and again in London. She was Welsh, but had taken French lessons and become proficient in the language while living in Biarritz. Elinor was much loved by Priscilla, Douglas and their sons, so even when the boys were past the age of needing a nanny, Priscilla had insisted that her room in the Holland Park house would always be kept for her, a bolt-hole when she came home on leave from the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry, which she had joined at the outset of war. Priscilla had been with the FANY in the Great War, which only increased her affection for the former employee.

“Elinor is a bit older than you—do you get on?”

“We do, actually. When I was there, she wanted to speak in French all the time. She said she needed to practice with a native.I’ve always liked Elinor, and I was more than happy to accommodate her, so of course we became friends. I’ve always thoughtshe was a terrific woman, probably because anyone who could manage my three cousins deserves a medal.”

Maisie once again raised an eyebrow.

“Well, all right,” said Pascale. “She managed me pretty well too—I was a bit difficult when I first began coming to London,and Elinor seemed to know how to calm me down. There was so much to . . . to absorb. This new family and finally knowing whomy father was, and seeing Tante Priscilla was like looking in a mirror and seeing an old version of myself.”

“I wouldn’t tell her that,” said Maisie. “But go on.”

“So when she started conversing in French, I wanted to know why, and she said, ‘Oh nothing really. I just don’t want to loseit.’”

“Then?”

“I didn’t believe her.”

“And?”

“I followed her and watched where she went, and I saw other people coming and going, and I . . . I suppose I put two and two together. She was in uniform but not doing any of the things that Tante Priscilla told me she’d done when she was with the FANY.”

“It’s a different war, Pascale.” Maisie held the young woman’s gaze. “So you watched, you made a guess at who was doing whatand where, and you decided it might be an idea to be heard speaking fluent French in front of some of the people you’d seenleaving that building.”

“I saw a man leaving one day and I thought I would follow him. I thought he looked important.”

“He is,” said Maisie.

Pascale smiled and nodded. “Anyway, I knew we were walking toward that shop where they sell books and papers from other partsof the world—not that they have much stock these days—so I greeted the vendor in French. He’s originally from Brittany andI’ve chatted to him before, but this time I did it a bit louder. I made sure the man could hear me, because I had a feelinghe would approach me, and I was right.”

“People with your linguistic skills have been discovered on trains, in shops, hospitals and just doing their shopping, sothat doesn’t surprise me.”

“And here I am.”

“Here you are.” Maisie paused, and smiled. “Now then—let’s get down to business. I have some questions for you—some I wouldlike you to answer without any consideration, just off the cuff. The others I want you to think about—I’ll give you a minute.”

“Fire away.” The young woman pulled back her shoulders as if reminded to do so by a finishing-school teacher.

“Before I do that, Miss Evernden, be aware that you just effectively revealed the name of another agent. You assumed I knew about Elinor Jones, so it’s just as well I’m not a member of the Gestapo trying to find out who you are and what you and your friends are up to.” Maisie paused. “I could strike you off right now for that, and you know it.”

Pascale looked down at her hands, then at Maisie again, and replied with a tone of defiance, “I will never give away anythingto the Gestapo. Never. The Germans killed my mother.”

Maisie felt a lump in her throat. She knew Pascale Evernden was as brave as Priscilla, and to her advantage she usually hada cooler head on her than her aunt at the same age. Usually. Not always. Maisie knew her decision already, because apart fromthe slip—she would never make that mistake again—Pascale would pass the remaining hour-long inquisition with flying colors,of that she had no doubt. She wasn’t so sure about the next interviewee, who had a softness to her character that was