Elegy for Eddie by Jacqueline Winspear

Author:Jacqueline Winspear [Winspear, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins US
Published: 2012-04-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Maisie had only just stepped into the entrance hall at 15 Ebury Place when James came downstairs, calling to her.

“Maisie, I thought something dreadful had happened to you. I telephoned the flat in case you were there, and when you didn’t come home at your usual hour—though heaven knows what that is anymore—I wondered if I should get in touch with the police.”

James was dressed in trousers the color of charcoal, with a soft, white Vyella shirt and a navy-blue silk cravat at his neck. His blond hair with threads of gray at the sides was combed back with a side parting, and at once it struck Maisie that he seemed older than his years; closer to his father, Lord Julian.

“I was helping a young woman who’d had her flat broken into. Her—” Maisie hesitated. “Her husband died a few weeks ago and I had to see her about something, but when I arrived she was in rather a state. There was no telephone on the premises or nearby, and it was clear she needed help.”

“Had her flat broken into? And how did her husband die, may I ask?”

Maisie handed her coat to the butler, her cheeks blazing. James had confronted her as if the servant were not there, listening. This, thought Maisie, was a perfect example of the chasm opening up between them—she was humiliated at being spoken to in front of someone she had never considered to be anything less than an equal, despite his position in the household, whereas James did not even appear to think it necessary to temper his comments in front of the man. She smiled and thanked Simmonds, who caught her eye for just a second. Maisie thought she saw the faint cast of a smile in return.

“I think we’ll go straight through for drinks, if that’s all right,” said Maisie.

The butler inclined his head. “Right you are, Miss Dobbs. At once.”

He left with her coat, and Maisie looked back at James.

“Let’s have a drink before supper and I’ll tell you all about it, if you like.”

James seemed mollified, and as if he had caught himself acting poorly, he came to her, took her in his arms, and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m sorry. I was just worried.”

Maisie nodded. “Really, there was nothing to worry about.”

Once settled in the drawing room—James with a whiskey and soda and Maisie with a small cream sherry—she gave him an abbreviated version of the story, to the effect that she had called at the address not far from King’s Cross station just moments after the woman had discovered her flat in a state of disarray. Given the young widow’s emotional response to the violation, Maisie had remained with her to help clean the flat and to accompany her to a home shared by some women friends.

“Did she call the police?” asked James.

“No, and frankly there was precious little to be garnered from a search of the flat—it would have been listed as just one of so many burglaries in London today.

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