'Ah, Carter. Miss Dobbs. Maisie. Do come in.'
'Thank you, Ma'am,' said Carter. Maisie bobbed her curtsy and looked sideways at Carter. Lady Rowan beckoned Maisie to her.
'Maurice, this is the girl of whom we have been speaking.'Then, inclining her head slightly toward Maisie, she said, 'I would like to introduce Dr. Maurice Blanche. He knows of our meeting in the library, and I have consulted with him regarding the situation.'
Maisie was now utterly confused. What situation? And who was this man? What was going on? Maisie nodded and curtsied to the man standing alongside Lady Rowan.
'Sir,' she said in acknowledgment.
She didn't know what to make of this small man. He wasn't as tall as Lady Rowan, and while he looked well fed, there was a wiryness to him. Solid, as her dad would have said. Solid. She couldn't even guess his age, but thought he was older than her dad, but not as old as Grandad. Over fifty, perhaps sixty. He had blue-gray eyes that looked as if they were floating in water, they were that clear. And his hands--they had long fingers with wide nails. Hands that could play the piano, very exact hands that made precise movements. She saw that when he took up her notebooks from a walnut side table and flicked a page or two.
He was a plain dresser, not done up like two penn'orth of hambone like some of them that she'd seen at the house. No, this was a plain man. And he looked right through her. And because she thought that she had nothing to lose and because her dad had told her always to 'stand tall,' Maisie stiffened her spine, pulled her shoulders back, and looked him straight in the eye as he had looked at her. Then he smiled.
'Miss Dobbs, Maisie. Lady Rowan has spoken with me about your encounter in the library last week.'
Here it comes, thought Maisie. She clenched her teeth.
'Now then, come with me.'
Maurice Blanche walked to the library table and sat down, then invited Maisie to sit next to him, with her notebooks in front of them.
Lady Rowan nodded at Carter, who remained by the door, as she walked to stand by the window. They watched as Blanche spoke with Maisie.
Gradually he broke down Maisie's shyness and the formalities that separated housemaid and houseguest. Within fifteen minutes the two were in animated conversation. Maurice Blanche asked questions, Maisie answered, often with another question. Clever, thought Carter, very clever. The way that Dr. Blanche drew Maisie out, with his voice, his eyes, a finger tapped upon the page, a question punctuated by a hand placed on the chin to listen. Lady Rowan was equally riveted by the discourse, but her interest was of a more personal nature. Maisie Dobbs's future was part of her own quest to challenge herself, and what was considered correct in a household such as hers and for a woman of her titled position.
An hour passed. An hour during which Carter was sent to bring tea for Dr. Blanche. Nothing was requested for Maisie. It would never do for a man of Carter's position to be at the service of a maid. Yet Carter sensed that something important was happening, that this was an hour during which the established structure of life in the house was changing. And he foresaw that changes that came as a result of whatever came to pass in this room this morning would affect them all. And these were strange-enough times already, what with old King Edward just dead and King George V's coronation around the corner.
Finally Maurice Blanche asked Maisie to close and collect her books. She did as instructed and drew away from the table to stand next to Carter, while Lady Rowan joined Maurice Blanche at the table.
'Rowan, I am more than satisfied,' said Dr. Blanche. 'You may reveal our plan to Miss Dobbs and Mr. Carter. Then we shall see if Mr. Carter agrees and how we may begin.'
Lady Rowan spoke, first looking at Carter, then at Maisie. 'Last week when I came upon Miss Dobbs in the library, I was struck by the breadth of her reading. We know that anyone can take down a book and read, but when I briefly looked at her notebooks I realized that there was also a depth of understanding. You are a very bright girl, Miss Dobbs.'
Lady Rowan glanced at Maurice Blanche, who nodded to her to continue.
'I know that this is most unusual. Carter has already been given an indication of my thoughts, and has concurred with my decision. Now I can be more specific. Lord Compton and I are believers in education and opportunity. However, opportunities to contribute directly are rare. Miss Dobbs, we have a proposal for you.'
Maisie blushed and looked at her shoes as Lady Rowan continued.
'Under the direction of Dr. Blanche you will continue your studies here. Dr. Blanche is a busy man, but he will meet with you once every fortnight in the library. Your studies, and the tutorials with Dr. Blanche, must, however, be on your own time and must not interfere in any way with your work in the house. What do you say to that, Maisie?'
Maisie was shocked, but after taking a moment to consider, she flashed the smile that seemed to be working its way back into her life. 'Thank you, Ma'am. Sir--Dr. Blanche--thank you.'
'Miss Dobbs,' said Maurice Blanche, 'hold your thanks for the time being. You may not take kindly to me when you have seen my plans for your education.'
That night, when Maisie was in bed, she was hardly able to sleep for wondering about the events of the day. Carter had been accommodating, but then he was kind. And the other staff, when they had learned about it later--because that Mrs. Crawford was a right old chatterbox--seemed to be all right with it all, as long as she pulled her weight in the house. There hadn't been any snide comments, or jealousy. But when Enid finally came to bed in the early hours, she wasted no time in voicing a thought that had been at the back of Maisie's mind.
'You'd've thought they would've just sent you to one of those fancy schools, on the QT, like. Or even paid for your uniform and all that, for the school where you won the scholarship. They're not short of a few bob, are they?'
Maisie nodded.
'But you know what I reckon, Mais? To be perf-hectly honest with you. I reckon they knew you would 'ave a rotten time there. What with all them toffs. It would get you down, it would. Reckon that's what it is.'
Without waiting for a response, and using her hairbrush as a pointer for emphasis, Enid continued. 'And what
