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

there are citizens who speakof Petain’s heroism during the last war and trust him implicitly. I must confess that I believe Petain has sold his soul tothe devil who resides in Germany, and he’s a man who should not be trusted by anyone, least of all Britain.”

“What about the many men and women Britain is sending to France? I’m sure you know about our people who are risking theirlives for the French.”

“Indeed I do, but let’s be clear—they are risking their lives to keep the Nazis in France and not over here. So from the perspectiveof the Free French, any resistance has to be seen to be French in origin and under French leadership. They want French heroesto be the driving force for the secret incursions into France by Britain’s agents.”

Maisie nodded, thoughtful. “And what if there was discord among the French agents here?”

Hunter put her cup and saucer onto the table at her side, balancing it upon a pile of books. “Unless that discord is rootedin petty arguments, Maisie, then you must attribute any discord to my first response—and that is honor. Personal or collectivehonor. Seek out the dishonorable, and you will find what you are looking for.”

The women spoke a little longer before Maisie could see that Hunter seemed tired. She stood up to take her leave, kissed theolder woman on both cheeks, and promised to visit again soon. It was as she reached the door that Gabriella Hunter calledout to her.

“Maisie—one thing. A grudge can be held for a long time, can span generations, particularly for the French. And sadly, thedesire to protect honor is not put aside in a time of war; indeed, the threat of death makes it only more urgent.” She paused.“I believe you will require more from me sooner than you might think. I know I’m getting on, but once a spy, always a spy,and I still have contacts, you know.”

 

As she reached the front door of her ground-floor flat, Maisie could hear the telephone ringing inside. Fumbling with thekey in shaking hands, she unlocked the door and ran into the flat, slamming the door behind her and racing toward the telephone.

“Yes, hello—,” she said, lifting the receiver to her ear, fearful she had missed the call she had not even realized she waswaiting for until she heard the ringing from outside. “Yes, are you there?”

“Miss Maisie Dobbs?”

“Yes—” Maisie heard the sound of two operators talking.

“Connecting you now,” said the British operator.

“Putting you through, caller,” said an American voice, followed by a clicking sound.

“Mark?”

“Maisie?”

“Oh, I hoped it was you.”

There was silence on the line.

“Mark—”

“Well, well, well—what happened to that stiff upper lip?” Mark Scott laughed. “That’s a first—you sound pleased to hear myvoice.”

Maisie felt tears prick her eyes. If you’re brittle, you break. “Mark—I’ve . . . I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Maisie. I’ve missed you, and I’ve missed Anna, and I’ve even missed Brenda giving me the evil eye everytime she sees me. I miss the bombs, the weak tea—no, check that, I don’t miss any tea—but I miss London. And I’ll be homesoon. I’ll be leaving DC in a day or two, or maybe three, and coming back, so chill a bottle of wine for me. Better still,don’t be shy about putting a beer in the icebox.”

Maisie laughed, feeling lightheaded as the truth seeped into her. She was bending to the reality of her feelings for MarkScott and in that moment could do nothing more than offer words that echoed her lover’s. “Come home soon, Mark. Come homesafe and soon.”

“What is it, Maisie? What’s going on? Something’s wrong—I can hear it in your voice.”

“I’m—I’m just a bit weary, I suppose. It’s been a long day. I have a difficult case in progress and I feel as if I’m on aboat sailing into a headwind. Two steps forward, then I stumble back.” She laughed. “And I’m not even getting paid for it!”

“You’ve faced the headwinds before.”

“I know, but this time . . . this time there’s a young boy involved and I fear it will be hard to get to the truth of the matter. He’s not a . . . well, I suppose there’s a shadow of doubt over him.”

“Maisie, if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that when you follow your best instincts, you’re on the right track.So do that. The gusts coming at you are only you doubting yourself.” He paused for a second. “See, I know you, Maisie Dobbs—contraryto what you might think.”

Maisie nodded, as if Mark Scott were in the room with her and could see her every move. She wondered whether this might bethe right time to acknowledge how unsettled they had been, at times snappy, so busy that they often failed to understand eachother—or just didn’t make the effort. It had crossed her mind several times that they wanted the same things in life, butnot at the same time. She decided to say nothing, considering it best to keep the peace, and not burden either of them withher fears that their affair was sometimes like a heart beating out of rhythm, and therefore at risk of failing. “Yes, of course—you’reright. Use my best instincts.”

Their conversation moved on to other matters, as Maisie told Scott about Anna and her despair at losing her beloved Emma,that she had been so upset she did not want to ride in the gymkhana. Mark described Washington in October, and told Maisiethat he never thought he would miss London, but there was much to do when he returned with new orders. They both acceptedthat he couldn’t discuss his work at the embassy, any more than Maisie could reveal anything more about her cases.

“I’ve got to go now, Maisie. I waited until the small hours to call you and now it’s time for this old bear to get some shut-eyebefore a meeting with the president tomorrow morning. It might be okay for him to have gray sacks under the eyes, but I haveto look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

Maisie laughed. “Take care, Mark. And