Elegy for Eddie by Jacqueline Winspear Read Free Book Online

was like an old lady who had discovered her girlhood again. She had even heard one of the maids saying that all the mansion needed was the laughter of children to add some life to the household. It was a comment that gave Maisie pause.
    “Is the Viscount home yet, Simmonds?”
    “No, mu’um. He telephoned with a message to say that he expects to arrive at seven o’clock. He asked that you should decide at what hour dinner will be served.”
    “Let’s say eight o’clock, shall we? We’ll have drinks beforehand, at about half past seven.”
    “Very good—”
    “Simmonds, please, do call me Miss Dobbs. I know this isn’t what you’re used to, but I’ve asked before and I really do not care to be addressed as ‘ma’am’ or ‘madam’ or ‘mu’um.’ ”
    “Right you are . . . Miss Dobbs. I shall remind the staff.”
    “Thank you. Now, I think I will go to my room.”
    “I’ve asked Millicent to run a bath for you, Miss Dobbs.”
    “How thoughtful,” said Maisie. “Especially after a long day.”
    “Indeed.” The butler gave a short bow.
    She wanted to tell him there was no need to bow before her, but that would have meant more embarrassment. “Well then, I’ll go up,” she said, and walked towards the staircase.
    James had insisted upon Maisie having her own rooms at Ebury Place, though when she stayed at the mansion, they lived as man and wife; his own rooms were adjacent and accessible through a dressing room. As far as the new staff was concerned, Maisie was mistress of the house, and though the more junior members had no idea that Maisie had first come to the property as a servant herself, she suspected it would only be a matter of time before that snippet of intelligence worked its way up from Chelstone Manor, the Compton estate in Kent.
    She breathed a sigh of relief upon reaching her rooms—which had been decorated in colors reminiscent of The Dower House.
    “I wish this wasn’t so complicated,” she said aloud, as she half-threw her briefcase onto the bureau in the corner.
    “I beg your pardon, mu’um?”
    “Oh, sorry, Millicent. I didn’t realize you were there.”
    “Just adding a bit of lavender oil to your bath, mu’um.”
    “Millicent—”
    “I know, sorry—Miss Dobbs.”
    “Thank you—and thank you for the lavender oil; your thoughtfulness is much appreciated. That will be all for now, Millicent.”
    As Maisie soaked in the hot bathwater, she leaned back and allowed her thoughts to skim across the events of the day, as if she were watching a picture show. In her mind’s eye she reconsidered the expressions of those she had spoken to. The men, a little embarrassed when asking for help from a woman they’d known as a child. There was the fragile bereaved mother, herself no more than a girl when she’d given birth to her son, and who had been aged beyond her years by work, worry, and now grief. She thought she would try to take Jennie aside to ask some questions, and she thought again about Eddie. Tweaking the tap with her toe for more hot water—the new boiler in the cellars under the house had worked like a charm, so in winter the radiators were always hot when they were supposed to be hot, and the water was piping whenever one wanted a good long bath, whatever the time of year—Maisie felt an ache. She had felt the same pain when she was a child, watching him walking along the road, or when he came to the house to mix a poultice for Frankie’s horse. “I don’t know what he does that’s different, but when that boy makes a poultice, it does the trick in half the time,” her father had said.
    She suspected Eddie must have suffered the sting of loneliness, a sense of separation that lifted only when he was with horses. Was his death simply a matter of a terrible accident? Or was there something more to be uncovered? She knew from experience that following even the most innocent passing, something always came to light that was not known before. Thus she would