The Mapping of Love and Death

Billy shook his head. 'I asked the old boy, and he didn't know. He said that even if she did, according to them who knew more about her, she wouldn't have publicized the fact, being as she had a company to run, and she didn't want anyone trying to take advantage of her just because she was a woman.'

'Yes. Yes, I can see why she would make that decision.'

'Do you, Miss? I can't say as I can see anything normal about their goings-on-'cept of course old Edward running off on a ship. Funny old world, ain't it?'

Maisie sighed. 'Could you dig a bit deeper for me, find out about other family members, cousins, aunts and uncles by marriage? There might have been stepchildren, for example. Oh, and if you could plough through a bit more of your list of those women who wrote letters to the Cliftons, it would help. I'll attack mine this afternoon, though I may have an appointment with your Lady Petronella of the telephones. I should call her now.'

As Maisie stood up to walk to her desk, the telephone began to ring.

'Funny how that always happens, ain't it, Miss? You mention the word call, and off it goes.' Billy went back to his notes.

Maisie picked up the black Bakelite telephone receiver, but did not have a chance to greet the caller with either the number or her name before Frankie Dobbs began speaking.

'Maisie, love, can you hear me?' Frankie shouted in his usual manner, never quite believing that the miracle of modern telephony could connect him to his daughter, who was in an office over eighty miles away.

'Dad! Dad, is everything all right?' Maisie felt the skin at the base of her neck grow cold, along the still-livid scar that remained from wounds she'd suffered in the war. 'Are you unwell? What's happened?'

'I just thought you would want to know-' She could hear her father breathing as if he had been running, and there was a rawness to his voice.

'Dad…Dad-take a deep breath, and sit down on that chair by the telephone. Have you been running?'

'I came back here as soon as I heard. As I said, I knew you'd want to know.'

'As soon as you heard what, Dad?' Maisie felt her heart beat faster, and a pressure on her chest. She took a deep breath in an effort to radiate calm from the center of her body.

'Dr. Blanche has been taken into hospital. A clinic in Tunbridge Wells. For observation. Apparently his lungs are just filling up.'

'I'll come straightaway-'

'No, you can't do that. No visitors. No one's allowed to see him, from what I've heard.'

'I'll talk to Lady Rowan. And I'm coming down to Kent as soon as I can.'

'He wouldn't want you to come rushing-'

'It wouldn't be the first time I've done something he wouldn't like. I'm on my way.'

'You drive careful, Maisie. And-'

'Dad-rest. I don't want two of you in hospital. I'm hanging up the telephone now, Dad. All right? I'll be in touch again later. Have a cup of tea, sit down, and put your feet up. Everything will be all right.'

'I'd better be off then. Take good care, my Maisie.'

Maisie held on to the receiver, and pressed down the bar to disconnect the call. She began dialing again.

'That's bad news, Miss, ain't it? Is your dad all right?'

Maisie nodded. 'It's Maurice.'

The color drained from Billy's face.

The call was answered on the second ring, and Maisie did not wait for a greeting. 'May I speak to Lady Rowan, please, Mr. Carter.'

'I thought it would be you, Maisie,' said the Comptons' butler.

'Do you know how he is?'

'Her Ladyship is more informed than I. I'll tell her you're on the line.'

Maisie heard a series of clicks, then another before Lady Rowan picked up the receiver.

'Maisie. I was just about to telephone you, counter to instructions from dear Maurice. He didn't want to worry you.'

'Didn't want to worry me? Oh, dear…how is he?'

'The nurse summoned the doctor early this morning, and he arranged for Maurice to be transferred into the clinic. According to Maurice's specific instructions in such an eventuality, Dr. Dene has been asked to attend him. The news I've heard so far is that, all being well, he should be out in a few days. He's had some difficulty breathing, as you know, and his health simply continued to get worse.'

'He seems to have gone downhill so quickly, Lady Rowan.' Maisie heard the catch in her voice, the fear revealed with each word. 'I-I will be on my way to Tunbridge Wells as soon as I hang up this call.'

'I knew you would insist upon coming, despite Maurice's entreaty that you not be informed of his condition. He said you were very busy and that you should not be concerned about an old gentleman. I took it upon myself to inform him that he had just spoken a load of codswallop, probably for the first time in his life.'

Maisie smiled and shook her head, trying to fight back the tears.

'In any case, you won't need to drive. I would imagine James will be knocking at your office door within minutes, he-'

'James?'

'Yes. James. The James who is my son.' Lady Rowan's sense of humor could verge on the sarcastic in the best of circumstances. 'I telephoned him with the news and suggested he escort you to the clinic as soon as possible.'

'You told James?'

'Yes. Haven't given him an order in years that he actually chose to act upon, so there was a certain pleasure attached to it.'

Maisie said nothing, her thoughts too confused to second-guess the situation.

'Don't worry, Maisie. Maurice is a tough old sort. He's clearly in difficulty, but I am assured by the doctor that he will get over this setback.'

At that moment the bell sounded, and Billy went to answer the front door.

'I think that's James now, Lady Rowan. Thank you.'

'Not at all. Just hold on. I'm told he drives like me, but frankly, he's far too sensible.'

Maisie grabbed her shoulder bag, and automatically reached for her case files. Then she stopped. Her case was important, without doubt, but it paled when set against the ill health of one so cherished. She left the files behind, collected her coat and hat, and ran to the door just as Billy was showing James into the office. Even in a hurry, Maisie noticed that he seemed every inch the successful businessman, and in that moment he reminded her of his father. His hair was combed with a side parting, and he wore a well-cut charcoal suit of fine wool with the ease of one who is used to working at the highest levels of commerce. He had one hand in his pocket as he walked into the room, and he smiled when he saw Maisie.

'So this is where you-Maisie, what on earth have you done to your face?'

'Not now, James. I want to see just how fast that Aston Whatever-it-is of yours can go.'

'Right you are.' He stepped aside, nodded to Billy, and followed Maisie downstairs, then to his motor car, which was parked in Fitzroy Street.

'I should get you there in about three-quarters of an hour, all being well with the traffic.' James held the door for Maisie to take the passenger seat. He ran around to the driver's side, slipped into his seat, and started the engine, setting off towards Tottenham Court Road. For just a moment he looked sideways as a single tear slid across her cheekbone. She wiped it away with her fingers. James reached across and took her hand in his. 'It'll be all right, Maisie. We'll get the best doctors, the best care. We'll do everything we can for him.'

She nodded and, looking out at the London traffic, squeezed his hand in return.

The Mount Pleasant Clinic was situated on a hill just behind The Pantiles, where in days gone by travelers were drawn to the healing spa waters of Tunbridge Wells. As soon as James parked the motor car, Maisie opened the door and dashed into the clinic, almost colliding with Andrew Dene, who had also once been a protege of Maurice Blanche. Though not as close to their mentor as Maisie, Dene was still involved in the running of clinics for the poor that had been set up by Maurice over thirty years before, and he was now directing his medical care.

'Good Lord, Maisie, slow down. I really don't want to have to admit you with a broken skull-and what have you been doing to your face?'