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

“There are a few developments afoot—we’ve been talking about it, Mark and I.” Maisie swirled the ice around in her drink,the words lingering in her mind. Mark and I. She smiled at Priscilla. “Nice having a refrigerator, isn't it?”

“Never mind my new refrigerator and the ice in your drink—what do you mean? What changes?”

“I’m going to see how Billy feels about assuming more control in the business. The majority of cases coming in since war wasdeclared are right up his alley, and it’s only occasionally that we get something more . . . more involved. We might takeon a new assistant to help him out.”

“And I suppose you will just swoop in for the big cases, when someone has just been offed and no one knows who did the deed.Hmmm.”

“What do you mean by ‘hmmm’?”

“I’d just like to be a fly on the wall while you’re trying out this not-working mode, that’s all. Personally, I think youwill be bored stiff, and I can’t see you in the local jam-making circle any more than myself. I tried, and it was a crushingbore, all about how to use local honey instead of sugar and how to make the silly jam set. I tried. Mine came out like syrup.A ghastly sweet, horrible concoction.”

“Don’t worry—I’m not going to join any sort of circle. And nothing much will change, Priscilla. Just a little here and there. I’ve decided I will be up in town at my flat for just one night each week, so I can at least be on hand as a guide for Billy in the short term, and of course if that bigger case comes in, then I’ll be a little more occupied in London. The rest of the time I can work from my study at the Dower House. That’s how Maurice did things in his later days, when he wanted to be in Chelstone more than London—remember I was his assistant, and I had to hold the fort at his office on Wigmore Street. In the year or so before he retired and I started my own business, he left a good number of cases to me until something came in requiring his expertise or I needed help. He called it a ‘time of transition.’” Maisie set her drink on the table next to the sofa. “It will be wonderful—spending more time here, and Mark will come home to the Dower house from Friday afternoon until Monday morning, when we’ll return to the flat together.”

“Well, I must say, you’ve got that bit sorted out nicely, and in a very short time. Now then—down to more important things.”Priscilla reached for a desk diary on the adjacent coffee table. “December the sixth you say, for the register office ceremonywith just family and close friends, after which the wedding breakfast will be at the manor? Then the really big event willbe the blessing at Chelstone church on the afternoon of the seventh, followed by a reception and dance, again at the manorbut this time in the ballroom? I bet it hasn’t been used in years!” She closed the book. “And I’m sure the whole village willsqueeze into the church to see you and your American walk down the aisle. Pity your Mark’s a divorcé, otherwise you couldhave done the whole thing there.”

Maisie shook her head. “I didn’t want a full ceremony in church anyway. The register office will do nicely. But the churchblessing is a different matter . . . it seems only right, because—”

“Because that’s where you married James, and it’s as if he’s giving you away.”

“Something like that, yes.”

Priscilla sighed. “Well, I’m simply relieved that it’s all happening before my final operation on the eighth. I cannot imagine how I would have felt in my best dress nicely set off by a whopping great bandage around my head.” She reached for a notebook. “Which reminds me, I must see that lovely seamstress in the village. No good even thinking about a new dress, as you’ll need all our clothing coupons for a gown, so I’ll have her do something wonderful with an old thing or two I’ve had tucked away at the back of my wardrobe since before the war.”

“Priscilla, we have more important things to discuss—and I know you’re deliberately avoiding getting down to it.”

“I know. I am dreading it, Maisie. Just dreading the finality of saying good-bye to her.” Priscilla turned to Maisie. “Weall loved Elinor—just adored her. We’re absolutely crushed.”

“I know, Pris—I know.” Maisie paused, allowing a few moments before continuing. “Shall we go over the arrangements? Afterall, we want everything to be perfect for her.” Another pause. “Now then, George will pick me up next Saturday morning andthen come over to collect you and Tarquin to take us to the station for the London train. We’ll meet Douglas and Tom at Paddington,ready to catch the train down to Westbury. And you’ve spoken to Tim?”

Priscilla finished her drink. “Yes, I passed on your message that Mr. MacFarlane will be in Cambridge anyway, so he’ll pickhim up and give him a lift to the military chapel in Wiltshire. Given that my middle boy seems to have inherited his mother’spenchant for the opposite sex in uniform, he won’t miss MacFarlane’s driver.”

“No, he definitely won’t miss her.”

There was another hiatus in the conversation, until Priscilla spoke again.

“It’s just so incredibly sad, isn’t it? You come over to see me in the aftermath of your wonderful news, and here we are.Instead of discussing getting you married off to your dishy American, we’re confirming our journey to Elinor’s memorial service,so we can bid a final farewell to a young woman we all loved and who only wanted to serve her country.”

Maisie reached for her friend’s hand.

“Maisie?”

“Yes?”

“Will you promise me that, one day, you will tell me the truth? About Elinor, and how she died?”

Maisie said nothing, but increased her grasp of Priscilla’s hand.

Priscilla nodded, wiped a tear that had begun to run across her cheek and turned to Maisie, changing the subject.

“You know