Charlotte Waite’s throat muscles were taut. “But he hadn’t seen Rosamund since school!”
“Rosamund? I thought she took her own life?”
Charlotte hid her face in her hands. Dame Constance cleared her throat, but Maisie tried for one last answer.
“Charlotte!” The tone of Maisie’s voice made her look up. Tears were running down her face. “Charlotte, tell me—why was a white feather left close to each of the victims?”
Charlotte Waite broke down completely.
“Stop! This must stop now!” said Dame Constance, her voice raised. The door to the sitting room opened, and two novices helped Charlotte from the room.
Maisie closed her eyes and breathed deeply to steady her heartbeat.
“So, that is how you work, Maisie Dobbs?”
“When I have to. Yes, it is, Dame Constance.”
Dame Constance tapped the desk in front of her and thought for a moment. Then she surprised Maisie.
“She’ll get over this interlude,” she sighed. “And it is evident even to me that she is withholding information. That, however, is her prerogative.”
“But—”
“No buts, Maisie. Your questioning was not what I had expected.”
“Perhaps I could have been kinder.”
“Yes, perhaps you could.” Dame Constance was thoughtful. “However, you might have rendered me a service, not that it excuses your manner with Charlotte.” She sighed again and explained. “To rebuild a relationship means first confession, which is best spoken aloud to one who hears. There is a confession to be spoken here and you managed to lead her to the edge of the fire, though Charlotte is clearly afraid of the heat.”
“That’s one way of putting it, Dame Constance.” Maisie thought for a minute. “Look, I know I pushed rather hard, but three women have been murdered, and an innocent man has been arrested. And Charlotte. . . .”
“Holds the key.”
“Yes.”
“I will advise her to speak with you again, but not before she has recovered. Maisie, I must have your word that you will not conduct your next interview in such a hostile manner. I remain deeply disappointed in you.”
“Dame Constance, I would be most grateful if you would urge Miss Waite to speak to me again. I give my word that I will be more considerate of Miss Waite’s sensibility when we meet. But . . . time is of the essence.”
Dame Constance nodded, and when the sliding door behind the grille closed, Maisie stood to leave.
A postulant entered the room with Maisie’s dry mackintosh, hat, and gloves, which she donned before returning to the MG. As the engine stuttered into life, Maisie hit the steering wheel with her hand. “Damn!” she said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Maisie was already at her desk when Billy arrived on Friday morning. Much work had to be completed on several cases, and two potential new clients who had come to the office during her absence had to be discussed.
“You’ve been working long hours, Billy.”
“Takes my mind off it.”
“Leg been bad this week?”
“Just nags away at me all the time now. And I’ve bin good, Miss. On the straight and narrow.”
Billy’s eyes seemed to be framed with circles as dark as her own. If only he would go to Chelstone soon.
“Have you given thought to my proposal?”
“Well, Doreen and me ’ave talked about it and all. Of course we’re worried about the money.”
“I’ve given you my assurance, Billy.”
“I know, I know, Miss. But, I feel sort of, oh, I dunno. . . .”
“Vulnerable?”
“Sounds about right.”
“Billy, that’s to be expected. I cannot tell you how much your help with my father means to me. Having someone I trust to be with him, and to assist with the horses—he’ll make himself ill worrying about them otherwise. And I know your leg bothers you, so one of the farmworkers will take on the really heavy work. Dad’s doing very well. He’ll be out of the wheelchair by the time he comes back to Chelstone, and we’ll set up a bed downstairs at the cottage. You won’t have to do any lifting.”
“Be like two old peg legs together, won’t we?”
“Oh, come on now, you’ll see—you’ll come back with all fires blazing. I’ve heard that Maurice’s friend, Gideon Brown, is an amazing man and has worked wonders with wounded and injured people. Plus you’ll be outdoors, in the fresh air. . . .”
“And well away from temptation, eh, Miss?”
Maisie sighed. “Yes, Billy. That’s another thing.”
