'Yes. A lot more. The founder, a man called Adam Jenkins, maintains that because everyone on the battlefield should have been equal, officers and enlisted men, because they all faced the same enemy, then there should be no advantage while in residence at this farm. Which is fair enough, but James said something about giving up his surname and title. Whatever next?' Lady Rowan shook her head.
At once Maisie thought of Vincent Weathershaw. Vincent.
Lady Rowan went on, 'I wish to heaven James would go back to Canada. He seemed happy there, before the war, and at least he would be working and useful. Certainly his father would be delighted; it would be a weight off his mind. I know Julian wants to slow up a bit and wishes James would begin to take up the reins. And now he's signing over his money. . . .'
Lady Rowan had hardly touched her food. Instead she ran the fingers of her right hand up and down the stem of her wine glass.
'What do you mean?' Maisie asked.
'Apparently it's one of the stipulations for entering this Retreat or whatever it's called. You come with nothing, to be part of the group. So James has transferred his personal funds to this Jenkins fellow--and it's not just him, others have done the same thing. Thank God his father is still alive and there are limits to what James can actually relinquish financially. Julian is taking steps to protect the estate--and James's future--until he gets over this horrible idea. Of course Julian had already done a lot to shore up the estate when he saw the General Strike coming a few years ago. I married a sensible man, Maisie.'
'What does Jenkins do with the money?'
'Well, it's a sizable property to run, and I'm sure the upkeep isn't insignificant. Of course, when one leaves one is refunded any monies remaining and given a statement of account. James said that he saw samples of the statements and refund documents, and he was happy with the arrangements. Mind you, he seemed eager to isolate himself on this farm. He said that people would understand him there. Oh, mind you, he seemed eager to isolate himself on this farm. He said that people would understand him there. As if I don't!'
Lady Rowan reached over and clasped Maisie's hand. Maisie had never seen the usually stoic Lady Rowan so vulnerable.
'Where is James now?'
'Out. Possibly at his club, but he doesn't go there much now. Quite honestly, I don't know where he is. He could be wandering the streets for all I know. Most probably he's spending time with some old comrades. He visits them you know, those that are still institutionalized. He'll probably be back later. Much later. I told him he could remain at Chelstone; after all, it's in the country, there's peace and quiet, and he could do what he likes and come back when he's ready for the City. Lord knows Julian needs his help. But he's determined to go to this farm. I have never felt so . . . so . . . cut off from my son.'
Maisie pushed the food around on her plate. There was a time when mother and son had been almost inseparable, sharing a dry wit and a mischievous sense of humor. She remembered being at the London house soon after she received news that she had been accepted by Girton College. James had just returned from Canada, hoping to join the Royal Flying Corps. There was much joy in the household, and as she walked down the outside stairs toward the kitchen, Maisie saw the tall, fair young man through the window, creeping up behind Mrs. Crawford and putting his arms around her ample waist. And as Maisie watched through the condensation that had built up inside the pane of glass, Mrs. Crawford swung around, clipped the young man around the ear, and, laughing, pretended to admonish him.'You, young James, why no sooner are you back than you'll be the death of me. Look at you, you young lout--and if you are after fresh ginger biscuits, I've baked up a batch 'specially for you, though I'm not sure you deserve them now!'
Maisie had walked in through the back door of the kitchen just as James was taking his first bite of a fresh ginger biscuit.
'And look who else is here,' said Mrs. Crawford.'Maisie Dobbs, I do believe you are even thinner! My back only has to be turned for one minute, and you're not eating properly.'
With crumbs around his mouth, James swallowed the biscuit, and struggled to greet Maisie politely.'Ah, the clever Miss Maisie Dobbs, passing exams that the rest of us mere mortals have nightmares about!'
Then as Mrs. Crawford turned to the stove, James whispered to Maisie,'Tell Enid I'm home.'
Later, as she walked past the drawing room on her way to Lord Julian's study to serve afternoon tea, which he had elected to take alone, she saw James and Lady Rowan through the open door. Lady Rowan was laughing heartily, having been whisked by her son into an impromptu dance, accompanied only by the sound of his own booming voice:
Oh, he floats through the air with the greatest of ease
The daring young man on the flying trapeze
His actions are graceful, all girls he does please
And my love he has stolen away.
'I won't ask you to see James, Maisie,' continued Lady Rowan, bringing Maisie back into the present,'I know your opinion will mirror Maurice's, so I know better than to ask. But I wonder. Would you find out something about this farm, or whatever it is? I have to say that I do feel he would be better in the world rather than trying to escape from it.'
'I will certainly look into it, Lady Rowan. I'll go down to Kent next week. I have to go anyway, as I need to speak with Maurice, and I must see my father. I'll find out about James's retreat as well.'
'Maisie. Take the MG. I know very well that you can drive, so do please take the car. It's not as if I've used it much since Julian bought it for me to run around in--and George drives Julian to the City in the Lanchester.'
'Yes, all right, Lady Rowan. It's very kind of you to offer, and I may need to be flexible, so the car will be handy.'
'It's almost new, so the young thing should get you there and back with no trouble at all. And Maisie--don't forget to send me your bill!'
Maisie directed conversation to other matters, and soon Lady Rowan was laughing in her old infectious manner. Carter watched as two maids cleared the table and brought in the delicious apple pie, to be served with a
