was getting later, and on a Friday. So much of the precious information she needed to uncover would have to wait until the following week. Surely records had to exist for Arthur Payton. And while she was at it, for Jesmond Martin, too.
Chapter Sixteen
Maisie and James drove to Chelstone together, stopping on the way in the village of Westerham for lunch at an inn. It was a pleasant interlude, with James detailing plans for his travel to Canada, a journey that was fast approaching. Ostensibly, his absence would be only for a month or two—he expected to be home at Chelstone for the Christmas holiday, though he spoke of his dread of spending the festive season without Maisie, if she indeed chose to leave England at the same time.
“I can’t believe that this time last year the builders were working on Ebury Place. I was so excited about us spending our first Christmas together there—and we just scraped in, didn’t we, though the upper rooms weren’t all finished.”
“I know, James, and it was a lovely time—waking up in a house that seemed so familiar, yet new and important, then driving down to Chelstone on Christmas morning. I like the feeling of driving home for Christmas on the very day.”
James nodded. “Wonder where you’ll be, come December.”
Maisie reached for his hand. “Let’s not become sad, James. Wherever I am, I know I will have Chelstone, snow, and you in my thoughts, even though I may be in sunshine or showers.”
“You’re excited about it, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes: a different sort of sparkle I haven’t seen before.”
Maisie smiled. “I am a bit, though scared, too—it’s a strange feeling, embarking upon something so new, so deliberately different. And I haven’t booked my passage yet.”
“You’d better get a move on then, Maisie—I would do it on Monday, if I were you.”
“You too, I would have thought.”
“Yes, me too.” James looked out of the window. “We’d better be on our way. It’s looking like rain and I’d like to be home before the clouds open.”
James came into The Dower House with Maisie and had a cup of tea in the kitchen. He had become more used to Maisie’s informality at the house—sipping tea in the kitchen while Mrs. Bromley, the housekeeper, buzzed around, cleaning and cooking. Even though they had just had lunch, James was able to polish off a few homemade ginger biscuits, a favorite treat.
“You’re light on your toes this afternoon, Mrs. Bromley,” said James.
“Am I, sir? Well, it’s a nice day and there’s a lot to be done.” She set down a pan, and turned to James and Maisie, untying her floral apron and retying it around her body, with a knot at the front of her waist. She pressed her hand to her hair, which—Maisie noticed—seemed to be tied back in a different style, which framed her face more favorably. “Now, I think I will just pop into the conservatory and plump up the cushions—they do settle so, and I know you like sitting in there first thing in the morning, Miss Dobbs.” Mrs. Bromley dashed from the kitchen.
“Nice day?” said James, shrugging his shoulders as he looked across at Maisie. “It’s pouring with rain out there, and it’s getting dark.”
“She is acting a bit strange, isn’t she? Sort of jumpy. I’m glad she’s staying here this evening—she likes to go back to her cottage in the village most nights, but stayed on because she knew we were coming home late.”
“Perhaps your father knows what’s wrong with her—they are quite pally, after all.”
“Gosh, I hope she’s not working up to telling me she’s leaving, just when I need her most to keep an eye on the house. Maurice left her very well provided for, so I’ve always felt very fortunate that she wanted to stay on. I don’t know what I would do without her.”
“Speaking of your father—he usually walks up to see you as soon as he hears your motor car in the driveway. Wonder where he is.”
“You know, why don’t you drop me off at the Groom’s Cottage when you go down to the manor. It’ll save me walking down the hill. I want to see if he’s all right.”
Maisie collected the cups and set them in the large, square sink. She called to the housekeeper on her way out.
“Mrs. Bromley! I’m just popping down the lane to see my father—we’ll both be back later. All right?”