The Consequences of Fear Jacqueline Winspear (i can read book club .txt) 📖

need to know.” She passed Gabriella the photograph of Chaput, along with a piece of paper on which was writtenhis name and that of Charles d’Anjou.

Gabriella Hunter studied the photograph. “Quite dishy—if you’re a Frenchwoman. This type doesn’t appeal to the average British girl.”

“Really?” said Maisie, smiling. “I’ve been told that he reminds people of Victor Mature.”

“Good lord, no. Mature is . . . well, he’s more of a heartthrob, if you ask me. This one is a bit too swarthy, a bit too . . .folded in the face. But I know just the person to ask.”

“Gabriella, I have a feeling that there is a troubling past history connecting these men and perhaps another—and I believeit goes back a long way.” Maisie began to rub her hands, at once unsure of her ground. “It’s hard to explain, but there wassomething in your comments about honor that has been like a pebble in my shoe, nagging me a bit. I suppose because I was workingon this case at the time, I couldn’t help but wonder if honor might have some bearing on the investigation—whether it wasa thread I should pull on.”

“If there is something to know, I can find it—but I would like a few days. Fortunately, not all of my contacts are in France.”

“They’re in London?”

Gabriella Hunter tapped the side of her nose. “My contacts, my business, Maisie. I protect my sources.”

Maisie nodded, smiling. “As you should, Gabriella. As you should.”

“Where can I reach you?”

“If it’s later this week, the best bet is Chelstone, the Dower House.”

“Still Maurice’s old number?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I loved the Dower House, you know. And the rose garden tended by the man who lived in the Groom’s Cottage—is he still there?A dear man, he seemed to be able to make roses bloom from spring until autumn.”

“Gabriella—that groom was my father, and yes, he still loves his roses, though he’s living with me at the Dower House, along with my stepmother and my daughter. We’re all together. Perhaps you’d like to come down to visit us? You remember Lady Rowan, I’m sure—she would love to have you to stay at the manor.”

“Oh yes, before the last war she had some sparkling suppers—lots of arguments across the table. Julian always managed to preventanarchy though. Such a distinguished man—I take it he’s still with us.”

“Both of them are at the manor house. A bit less mobile, yet very busy, always very busy, plus they have Canadian officersbilleted there, which they love. They adore my daughter, and when I’m not at home she will often go to have tea with LadyRowan after school.”

“Yes, they would cherish her. It was such a tragedy when they lost their own daughter, and then to lose James years later . . .oh, Maisie, you were married for such a short time.”

“It’s been a few years now.”

“Do you think— No, it’s not for me to ask. I’m sorry, forget I said anything.”

Maisie smiled. “You were going to ask about my gentleman friend again, weren’t you?”

“Remember I’m half French, Maisie—I love romance, so you can’t blame me for asking, can you?” Gabriella laughed, then grewpensive. “There are many ways of being at odds with a person you love, Maisie, and they’re not always as serious as you think.”

Maisie rubbed the back of her hand where the burns had been most deep. “Mark has to return to America every so often, which is of course a dangerous journey by aeroplane, usually via Ireland and Lisbon—it frightens me, to tell you the truth. I miss him very much when he’s away, and I look forward to his homecoming—it’s wonderful when he’s here and of course Anna adores him, which warms my heart. But my concern is that Britain is not his home, and though he professes to love it here and has even said that he could see himself retiring to the life of a gentleman farmer in Kent, I’m never sure if he’s serious, because so much of what he says is lighthearted banter. Of course, we both know that no one can plan during wartime—the future is so unsettled—but the truth is that I cannot leave England. I have responsibilities here. And I don’t feel confident that he would stay, not only due to his work, but—well, this is not his home.” She shook her head and rubbed her fingers against the scar again. “It all means the leap might be too far for both of us, and I sometimes think the little tensions that then become bigger are down to the fact that we veer away from any talk of the future, because we’re afraid of where it might lead. It might be a relief for both of us if we part, but we veer away from that decision too.”

Hunter nodded. “I think I understand, my dear. I was your age when I had an intense affair of the heart—certainly not my first,by any means. But it was important and I loved the man very much indeed. I look back and wish we had both been a little more,well, I suppose ‘malleable’ might be a better word. You see, with age we become somewhat less flexible in many ways, don’twe? Even someone like you, who is trained to see the gray between black and white.” She fingered the loose strap of her watchand whispered, so that Maisie could barely hear her, “And even the man who trained you.” She looked up and smiled. “We alsobecome rather reticent when it comes to taking the leap into love, which I think can be such a tragedy because love is alwaysworth the leap.”

The older woman held up the photo and sheet of paper with the two names. “Anyway, this is the second time I’ve lectured youon the subject of love, so I’ll get on with this, Maisie. Expect to hear from me soon.”

Maisie stood up, thanked Gabriella and leaned down to kiss her on both cheeks before turning to leave. As she reached the door, Gabriella called to her.

“Maisie—if you love your American, do say yes