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

she had read and reread the messageinside whenever she was assailed by doubt. She kept it close because she never knew when she might need to return to it, skimmingover whole sentences to land on words that might guide her at a given moment.

Years ago, before he died, Maurice had written, “We have spoken on many an occasion, you and I, of the darkness I fear willenvelop Europe once again.” As she read words she could quote by heart, she felt the presence of her beloved mentor. “. . . Youwill be called to service . . .” She lingered on the sentence that always made her feel as if Maurice had laid a hand uponher shoulder to fortify her spirit: “I have great faith in your ability to assume challenges that stand between you and thequest for what is right and true.”

But what is right and true now, at this very moment, Maurice?

Maisie bit her lip, folded the worn piece of paper, and slipped it back into the envelope. She returned it to her bag, then reached for the blue velvet case once more. Before removing the gift, she unclasped another chain, one she had worn for several years now. It held the wedding ring James Compton had slipped onto her finger the day she became his wife; she had removed the ring from her finger and worn it in this way from the day she accepted that she was a widow. She felt the chain loosen and caught the ring in her palm, studying it for some seconds before she unpinned the diamond necklace and removed it from its moorings before slipping the ring and chain into its place and closing the blue box.

Standing before the dressing table mirror, she unlocked the clasp and fastened the necklace, touching the stone as it cameto rest just below her throat’s hollow. She closed her eyes, then opened them to gaze at her reflection. Still with her fingertipson the stone she whispered, “With love,” and waited to see if fear began to move away, and so relinquish its grip on her heart.

 

Checking the time, Maisie quickly changed into clothing more suited to walking across the hills—a pair of corduroy trousers,a roll-neck pullover, tweed jacket and sturdy brown leather shoes. There was no rain, so she would not need the rubber bootsshe had thrown into the suitcase at the last minute. Casting another glance at the afternoon’s itinerary, she saw that followinglunch there would be a walk with MacFarlane to inspect several points the recruits were to reach during the orienteering partof the induction, and review the challenges they would have to overcome. Once they returned to the manor house, she wouldhave an hour to read the applicant biographies before her interviews were due to begin.

Maisie realized she was hungry. Before she met MacFarlane in the instructors’ dining room, though, she needed to place a call. There was a telephone with a secure line in a small room adjacent to the instructors’ mess.

“Priscilla? Priscilla, I need a favor.”

“What on earth are you whispering for?” Just the sound of her friend’s voice drained some of the tension from Maisie’s shoulders.“You sound as if you’re in a crypt. And where are you anyway?”

“Let’s just say ‘crypt’ isn’t far off. Look, I haven’t long to chat, but I wonder if you could go over to the Dower Houseand see Dad, Brenda and Anna—I’m worried about Anna, and—”

“I’ll do it. Right now.” Maisie heard the unmistakable sound of Priscilla opening and closing her cigarette case, followedby the flick and snap of her lighter. “What’s happened?”

“Emma is not well—apparently Dad has said it’s her time and she’ll probably have passed away in the next couple of days. AndPris, I’m not able to come home at the moment—I’m not due until Friday afternoon, so I’ll be there for the gymkhana.”

“Oh dear—Anna will be crushed when that dog goes. I’ll get over there straightaway—see what Auntie Pris can do.” There wasa second’s pause as Priscilla drew on her cigarette. “And speaking of being an aunt—you haven’t heard from my niece, haveyou? I know she’s living the life we all lived at that age, and hopefully keeping away from men in uniform, but I haven’theard from her in days. She’s been very elusive for a long time.”

Maisie closed her eyes as she prepared the lie. “I haven’t seen her, actually—and if she’s anything like Aunt Priscilla, youwon’t be hearing from her either! Of course, there is that translation job she’s been very excited about, so I would imagineshe’s rather busy.”

“Hmmm, takes after her father—he was always one to keep secrets. I couldn’t keep anything quiet to save my life, yet as we know, my brother was a mystery unto himself. Even as a child you never knew what he was up to.” She cleared her throat, and coughed.

“Didn’t the doctor tell you to give up the cigarettes before your next operation? It will be the last, Pris, so you shouldreally make the effort—smoking and going under anesthetic do not work together. You might as well get your lungs in good ordernow.”

“I know, Nurse Maisie, I know . . . I’m stubbing it out. Hear that? Anyway, look, only one other piece of news—well, two.No three. First of all, we heard from Tim, and he seems to have settled in at university. Thank heavens for that! Now of coursewe don’t really need to live in the cottage—we only came to be in the country while Tim was recovering from the amputation.God, doesn’t Dunkirk seem like years ago? I think we’ll go back to London at some point, but of course Tarquin has completelythrown any further schooling out of the window and loves working with the forestry people. I have a conscientious objectorfor a youngest son! Perhaps one day he’ll study horticulture or something and become famous like Gertrude Jekyll. Finally,number three on the list. Speaking of my operation, there’s a slight change in the date—it’s now on the cards for Decemberthe eighth, a Monday. Expect to bring me a generous