Comptons were in residence, so the servants whom Maisie loved from the Belgravia house were there to see her off.
Carter sat at the head of the table in the carver's chair, and Mrs. Crawford sat at the opposite end within easy striking distance of the big cast-iron coal-fired stove. Maisie sat next to her father and opposite Enid. Even Enid, who had been summoned from the London house to assist with late-summer entertaining at Chelstone, joined in the fun and looked happy: She had brightened up considerably since Mr. James had returned from Canada.
'Gaw lummy, I think the world's spinnin' even faster these days. What with the war, Master James coming home, Maisie goin' to Cambridge--Cambridge, our Maisie Dobbs! Then there's all the important people coming tomorrow to meet with Lord Compton,' said Cook, as she took her seat after a final check on the apple pie.
'All arrangements are in order, Mrs. Crawford. We will make a final round of inspection after our little celebration here. Now then . . .'
Standing up, Carter cleared his throat and smiled. 'I'll ask you to join me in a toast.'
Chairs scraped backward, people coughed as they stood up and nudged one another. The entire complement of household staff turned to face Maisie, who blushed as all eyes were upon her.
'To our own Maisie Dobbs! Congratulations, Maisie. We've all seen you work hard, and we know you will be a credit to Lord and Lady Compton, to your father--and to us all. So we've got a small token of our affection. For you to use at the university.'
Mrs. Crawford reached under the table and took out a large flat box, which she passed down the table to Carter with one hand, while the other rubbed at her now tearful eyes with a large white handkerchief.
'From all the staff at Chelstone Manor and the Compton residence in London--Maisie, we're proud of you.'
Maisie blushed, and reached for the plain brown cardboard box. 'Oh, my goodness. Oh, dear. Oh--'
'Just open it, Mais, for Gawd's sake!' said Enid, inspiring a scowl from Mrs. Crawford.
Maisie pulled at the string, took off the lid, and drew back the fine tissue paper to reveal a butter-soft yet sturdy black leather document case with a silver clasp.
'Oh . . . oh . . . it's . . . it's . . . beautiful! Thank you, thank you. All of you.'
Carter wasted no time in taking his glass and continuing with the toast.'To our own Maisie Dobbs . . .'
Voices echoed around the table.
'To Maisie Dobbs.'
'Well done, Mais.'
'You show 'em for us, Maisie!'
'Maisie Dobbs!'
Maisie nodded, whispering, 'Thank you . . . thank you . . . thank you.'
'And before we sit down,' said Carter, as the assembled group were bending halfway down to their seats again.'To our country, to our boys who are going over to France. Godspeed and God save the King!'
'God save the King.'
The following day Maisie stood on the station platform, this time with an even larger trunk of books that far outweighed her case of personal belongings. She clutched her black document case tightly, afraid that she would lose this most wonderful gift. Carter and Mrs. Crawford had chosen it, maintaining that Maisie Dobbs should not have to go to university without a smart case for her papers.
On her journey up to Cambridge, when Maisie changed trains at Tonbridge for the main service to London, she was taken aback by the multitude of uniformed men lining up on the platform. Freshly posted handbills gave a hint of things to come:
LONDON, BRIGHTON & SOUTH COAST RAILWAYS
MOBILIZATION OF TROOPS
PASSENGERS ARE HEREBY NOTIFIED THAT IT MAY BE NECESSARY TO SUSPEND OR ALTER TRAINS WITHOUT PREVIOUS NOTICE
It was clear that the journey to Cambridge would be a long one. Sweethearts and the newly married held tightly to each other amid the crush of bodies on the platform. Mothers cried into sodden handkerchiefs; sons assured them, 'I'll be back before you know it,' and fathers stood stoically silent.
Maisie passed a father and son standing uncomfortably together in the grip of unspoken emotion. As she brushed by, she saw the older man clap his son on the shoulder. He pursed his lips together, firmly clamping his grief in place, while the son looked down at his feet. A small Border collie sat still between them, secure on a leash held by the son. The panting dog looked between father and son as they began to speak quietly.
'You mind and do your best, son. Your mother would have been proud of you.'
'I know, Dad,' said the son, moving his gaze to his father's lapels.
'And you mind you keep your head out of the way of the Kaiser's boys, lad. We don't want you messing up that uniform, do we?'
The boy laughed, for he was a boy and not yet a man.
'All right, Dad, I'll keep my boots shined, and you look after Patch.'
'Safe as houses, me and Patch. We'll be waiting for you when you come home, son.'
Maisie watched as the man pressed his hand down even harder on the young man's shoulder.'Listen to that. Your train is coming in. This is it, time to be off. You mind and do your best.'
The son nodded, bent down to stroke the dog, who playfully wagged her tail and jumped up to lick the boy's face. He met his father's eyes only briefly, and after passing the leash to the older man, was suddenly swallowed
