The Consequences of Fear by Jacqueline Winspear (speed reading book txt) 📕

Maisie laughed. “And knowing your doctor, he’ll allow it!”

“McIndoe is a terrific chap—he’s done a wonderful job on me so far. If I comb my hair just so, you might never know I hadto be dragged from a burning house and left half the skin from my face on a fiery fallen roof beam!”

Maisie heard voices as the instructors gathered for preprandial drinks in the mess next door. “I’ve got to go now, Pris. I’lltry to telephone later.”

“I’ll have a full report for you. Don’t worry—if anyone can cheer up your darling child, it’s her Auntie Pris!”

Maisie replaced the telephone in its cradle and left to join the other instructors in the mess. As was so often the case, she was the only woman in the company of men.

“Ah, there she is!” MacFarlane beckoned to her. “Maisie, let me introduce you—”

Maisie smiled, ready to greet a man who was a good three inches taller than MacFarlane.

“Major André Chaput—he’s here for a couple of days and he likes a wee dram, good man that he is.” MacFarlane moved aside asMajor Chaput extended his right hand toward Maisie.

Revealing not a second’s hesitation, Maisie was quick to disguise a tremor of shock as she looked up to greet the major andregistered his face. She took the major’s hand and spoke to him in French.

“Talented woman, our Miss Dobbs,” said MacFarlane, laughing. “And when it comes to knowing what’s going on upstairs”—he tappedthe side of his head, a favorite gesture—“there’s none to beat her.”

“Is that so?” said the Frenchman, addressing them in almost unaccented English. “Then I shall have to watch what I say.”

“Not to worry, Major—I’m only here to put our recruits under the microscope.” Maisie stole a glance at the major’s knuckles,where there was the merest hint of rough skin. She could hear Freddie Hackett’s words echoing in her mind. If you wear one of those, it leaves marks right across there . . . you can always tell when a bloke’s had one of them on.

As MacFarlane changed the subject to the weather forecast the following day, Maisie feigned interest, agreeing with his comment on the cloud formation before excusing herself to speak to another instructor she had met on a previous occasion. She looked back only once at the French major, who at that very moment was staring in her direction. Without doubt, the tall man with an officer’s bearing might have warranted a second look in any milieu. The combination of pale blue-gray eyes—not unlike Freddie Hackett’s—and dark hair slicked back in waves rendered him film-star handsome. At this very moment she didn’t want to believe in coincidence, or entertain the possibility that she had just greeted a man who seemed to reflect the image she had held in her mind’s eye from the moment Freddie Hackett had described witnessing a murder and delivering an envelope to a man he believed was the killer. Yes, she had to admit she was tired, more than a little at odds with herself and the work she was starting to detest—and couldn’t those conflicting emotions conspire, leading to the dreaded irrational reasoning? Given her mood, she could be a prime candidate for it.

Such personal observations aside, it was the deep ridges on either side of Chaput’s face that gave Maisie pause, and the smallpatch of paler skin just below his right eye. Try as she might, she could not help herself wondering at what speed those eyesmight become cold, or the inquiring stare a threat.

Chapter 7

Maisie and MacFarlane set off across extensive lawns surrounding the Scottish manor until they reached a rustic gate. Magentaazaleas flanked the lawns, along with purple smoke trees and rich conifers. Ivy climbed the walls of the house, a deep greenagainst granite that seemed to sparkle in the autumn sunshine. MacFarlane stepped forward, lifting the latch so Maisie couldproceed before him, then picked up a path that led out through mixed woodland to the hills beyond.

Consulting the map she had carried with her, Maisie pointed into the distance. “So the recruits will exit here where we’restanding and then make their way toward that rough crag over there.”

“That’s the first stop,” said MacFarlane. “We’ll stagger their departure, and this time they go alone.”

“And they each have a different set of instructions?”

“More or less, though we give them a chance to cross paths, as we did the last time we were here. We’ll find out what they do when they meet one another during their quest—will they ignore each other or say a few words and be on their way? Or will they exchange notes on what they’re doing, which isn’t allowed? We have people watching, looking for traits such as misplaced trust, fear, hesitancy—too much time spent lingering, and a lack of imagination or anticipation. As before, we’re weeding out foolhardiness, though we want to see a certain spirit and an ability to overcome challenges we put before them—but there’s always a middle ground.”

Maisie nodded. “And where do you want me to wait?”

MacFarlane leaned toward Maisie and pointed to the map. “You’ll have to leave the path here, then pass that bothy before continuingon to a stand of firs here. You’ll find an old hide in that spot, so linger there and complete your observation record.”

“Where will you be?”

“Waiting for them here.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “We have . . . what did we call them last time? Obstacles. We haveobstacles at each of these points, whether it’s geographical or something else to push a few buttons upstairs.” He tappedthe side of his head once again. “Nothing like pushing those mental buttons, is there? They think they’re going on a nicelittle Scottish ramble, but if they’re not shaking in their boots by the time they get back, I want to know where we wentwrong. I want to see an ability to overcome, to get on the right track again—in more ways than one—and I don’t want to seeoverconfidence.” He looked at