Maisie Dobbs

'I didn't mean it like that. What I meant was . . .' Maisie was exhausted. She let her arm drop to her side. Persephone nuzzled her to continue the ear rubbing, but there was no response. Father and daughter stood in stony silence.

How had this happened? How was it that one minute it seemed that everyone was on her side, and the next everyone was against her? What had she done wrong? Maisie went over to an upended box in the corner and slumped down. Her furrowed brow belied her youth as she tried to come to terms with the discord between her beloved father and herself.

'I'm sorry, Dad.'

'I'm sorry, too. Sorry that I ever talked to that Mr. Carter in the first place.'

'You did right, Dad. I would never have had this opportunity. . . .'

Frankie was also tired. Tired of worrying about Maisie, tired of fearing that she would move into circles above her station and never come back. Tired of feeling not good enough for his daughter. 'I know, love. I know. Let's 'ave an end to the words. Just make sure you come back and see your old dad of a Sunday.'

Maisie leaned over to Frankie, who had upended another wooden box to sit next to her, put her arms around his neck, and sobbed.

'Come on, love. Let's put the words behind us.'

'I miss you, Dad.'

'And I miss you, Love.'

Father and daughter held on to each other a moment longer, before Frankie announced that they should be getting along to the park if they were to enjoy the best of the day. They worked together to finish jobs in the stable and, leaving Persephone to her day of rest, went to the park for a walk and to eat the sandwiches that Mrs. Crawford had made for Maisie.

As she traveled back to Belgravia that evening, Maisie couldn't help but remember Frankie's outburst, and wondered how she would ever balance her responsibilities. As if that were not enough, Enid's tongue was as sharp as a knife again when Maisie entered the room they shared on the top floor of the house.

'It's a wonder you can bring yourself to see that costermonger father of yours. Isn't he a bit lower class for you now, Maisie?'

Maisie was stunned and hurt by Enid's words. Slights against herself she could handle, but those against her father she would not tolerate.' My father, Enid, is one of the best.'

'Hmmph. Thought he wouldn't be good enough, what with you bein' 'er Ladyship's pet.'

'Enid, I'm not anyone's pet or favorite. I'm still here, and working hard.'

Enid was lying on her back on the bed, pillows plumped up behind her head. She was reading an old copy of The Lady magazine while speaking to Maisie.

'Hmmph. Maisie Dobbs, all you've done is give 'er Ladyship a cause. They like causes, do these 'ere toffs. Makes 'er feel like she's doin' something for the lower classes. Right old do-gooder she is, too. And as for that funny old geezer, Blanche, I'd worry about 'im if I was you. D'you really think you can become a lady with all this book lark?'

'I've told you before, Enid--I don't want to be a lady.'

Maisie folded her day clothes and put them away in the heavy chest of drawers, then took up her hairbrush and began to unbraid her glossy black hair.

'Then you're as stupid as you are silly lookin'.'

Maisie swung around to look directly at Enid.

'What is wrong with you? I can't do a thing right!'

'Let me tell you what's wrong with me, young Maisie. What's wrong with me is that I might not be able to do the learning from books that you can, but mark my words, I'll be out of here before you, 'er Ladyship or not.'

'But I'm not stopping you--'

In frustration Enid flounced to her feet, pulled back the bedclothes, and threw herself into bed. Without saying goodnight, she turned her back on Maisie, as had become her habit.

Maisie said nothing more, but climbed into her heavy brass bed to lie upon the hard horsehair mattress between cold white muslin sheets. Without attempting to read her book or work on the assignment Maurice Blanche had given her, she turned out the light.

Jealousy. Now she was beginning to understand jealousy. Together with the exchanges of the past few weeks, and the heated conversation with her father, Maisie was also beginning to feel fully the challenge of following her dream. And she was disturbed, not for the first time, by Enid's words about Lady Rowan. Was she just a temporary diversion for Lady Rowan, a sop to her conscience so she could feel as if she was doing something for society? Maisie couldn't believe this, for time and time again she had seen genuine interest and concern on her employer's face.

'So, Maisie. Let me see your work. How are you progressing with Jung?'

Maisie walked into the library for her meeting with Maurice Blanche and stood before him.

'Sit down, sit down. Let us begin. We have much work to do.'

Maisie silently placed her books in front of him.

'What is it, Maisie?'

'I don't think, Dr. Blanche, that I can have lessons with you anymore.'

Maurice Blanche said nothing but nodded his head and studied Maisie's countenance. Silence seeped into the space between them, and Maurice immediately noticed the single tear that emerged from Maisie's right eye and