"Oh, Billy-you've got a girl. How's Doreen? Is the baby well?"

"Mother and daughter are in the best of health, though Doreen is a bit tired."

Maisie looked at the clock. It was past two in the morning. "Where are you, Billy?"

"The hospital. Her doctor reckoned that, with her history-you know-and what she'd gone through last year, she shouldn't have the baby at home. I had to pace the floor a bit before they came and found me and told me we had a girl, and then after a while they let me in to see them, but then they wanted me out a bit sharpish. I'll go home now-Mum and the boys will want to know what's coming home with Doreen-I reckon the boys will be pleased it's another little sister."

Maisie laughed. "I'm so happy, Billy. So very happy for you."

"And you know the best thing, Miss?"

"I think you have the best thing, Billy."

He laughed, and Maisie heard him yawn. "The best thing is that we'll be bringing our little girl back to her new home-and it'll be her really new home. And the other best thing is that I'll treat myself to a taxi-cab back there without the driver refusing to take me because he's scared he'll be set upon; that's how it was in Sh.o.r.editch." He yawned again. "I'd better be off, Miss. See you on Monday."

"Night, Billy."

Maisie set the telephone down and made her way back to the bedroom. She snuggled down under the covers-the nights were becoming colder already.

"Who was that?" asked James, his voice thick with sleep as he put an arm around her.

"Billy. They've had a daughter. Margaret Rose."

"Isn't that the name of the King's granddaughter?"

Maisie began to fall asleep again. "I believe she's her father's princess already."

Despite his courtship with Mrs. Bromley, her father still showed no interest in moving to The Dower House, and was perhaps even firmer in his intention to remain in the Groom's Cottage. James cautioned her not to press him further, advising, "Time will bring him around, though it may be quite a while."

In the meantime, Maisie was occupied with seeing Sandra well again, and as gently as she could, encouraging the young woman to look to the future once more. She went with her to visit Birkbeck College, a place where many students of more mature years were able to study in the evenings, so that they did not have to compromise a job to get on. Sandra enrolled and was to begin her cla.s.ses in January of 1933. And it was due to Douglas Partridge that Ursula Thurlow was introduced to his publisher. It was a connection that eventually bore fruit, with a subsequent introduction to a publisher of children's books, who thought her stories and ill.u.s.trations excellent, and offered a contract to publish.

As she worked through to the end of term at the College of St. Francis, Maisie spent the time from Friday to Monday in London, keeping up with her business and spending time with James. And each Sat.u.r.day morning they went to 15 Ebury Place so that James could monitor progress on the house that would become his home once again. The decision to pa.s.s the property on to James sooner rather than later had been made by Lord Julian, who realized that he and Lady Rowan would not be likely to open up the house for their use again. As the years advanced, it was clear that they were too ensconced at their home in the Kent countryside, and they thought living at the club might be getting rather tiresome for James. It was time for him to have a London home of his own; the Ebury Place mansion was an obvious choice.

It was close to the end of November on a clear but cold morning, when the air was crisp but the brim of a hat was welcome shade for the eyes, that James, while conducting his usual tour of the rooms, put his arm around Maisie and pulled her to him.

"It's coming along so well, isn't it?"

"I can hardly recognize it-it's so much brighter," said Maisie, looking around the large, empty front bedroom, currently in the process of being painted in the palest shade of sea green.

"Carter will be coming up close to Christmas, to begin bringing in new staff for me-they'll be here in the New Year. It's a bit like launching a ship, getting everyone on board ready for the pa.s.sengers to embark on the journey of a lifetime."

"It seems a bit like that, though I've only crossed the Channel a few times, and all but one of those journeys was during the war."

"Then I will have to arrange a much more enjoyable voyage." James kissed her forehead and held her to him. "Will you be my traveling companion, Maisie?"

Maisie swallowed deeply, feeling as if she had caught something in her throat. "We're not talking about ships, are we, James?"

"No, not really."

She nodded, framing her answer. "Then, can I come along just one step at a time? Perhaps when you have the tickets, I'll be ready to jump aboard."

Maisie could not miss his sigh, but was glad when he spoke again.

"And in the meantime, we'll just enjoy whatever the day brings and be happy with that."

She smiled and kissed him. "That suits me, James Compton. Now, perhaps you'd like to take me to lunch; I am quite famished."

During her final week at the college, Maisie set to the task of packing up her belongings. She had acquired a good many new books since she started teaching, and it seemed that after each visit to Chelstone, she brought a few more from Maurice's library. As she looked through the folders of lesson plans, she considered all that had come to pa.s.s since September, when she had been followed by two men as she departed Chelstone. Much had been laid bare-a man's duplicity, a young soldier's question, another man's stand for peace, and a mutiny of enemies. There had been lies and secrets and a children's book that changed the course of so many lives, though it had seemed such an innocent story. She picked up her copy of The Peaceful Little Warriors The Peaceful Little Warriors and began to turn the pages. It was an easy read, as children's books are, with larger print and bold ill.u.s.trations designed to catch a young imagination. And the ending was as she expected it to be and began to turn the pages. It was an easy read, as children's books are, with larger print and bold ill.u.s.trations designed to catch a young imagination. And the ending was as she expected it to be ... and they all lived happily ever after.

She wondered about happily ever after happily ever after. Did it exist only in fairy tales, in stories for children? Or was there hope, really? Billy and Doreen had a new daughter, named after a princess; yet the pain of losing their dear Lizzie would never quite leave them. And Sandra was stepping forward into a life she had never imagined as a new bride, without the man she had loved so much. Frankie was, she knew, even friendlier with Mrs. Bromley, but the slowly fading photograph of her mother, now more than twenty years gone, would never, she was sure, lose its place on his mantelpiece. And there she was, Maisie Dobbs, a woman who was loved, again. Was it that she did not trust happily ever after, that she was deliberately indifferent to the possibility? Or was happily ever after another one of time's secrets, waiting to be revealed on the journey? She smiled at the irony-the junior lecturer in philosophy struggling with a child's fairy-tale ending. Yes, time would give up her secrets. She just had to wait.

Acknowledgments.

I would like to thank Dr. Tammy M. Proctor, Professor of History at Wittenberg University and author of the excellent book would like to thank Dr. Tammy M. Proctor, Professor of History at Wittenberg University and author of the excellent book Female Intelligence: Women and Espionage in the First World War Female Intelligence: Women and Espionage in the First World War, for so kindly providing me with additional information on the crucial role played by the great number of women who served in the intelligence services across Europe during the First World War, 191418.

My thanks to Amy Rennert, the best literary agent in the world and my dear friend.

I am equally blessed to work with the enormously talented Jennifer Barth of HarperCollins, who in my estimation is the best editor in the world. My deepest grat.i.tude to you, Jennifer.

About the Author.

JACQUELINE W WINSPEAR is the author of the is the author of the New York Times New York Times bestsellers bestsellers An Incomplete Revenge An Incomplete Revenge, Among the Mad Among the Mad, and The Mapping of Love and Death The Mapping of Love and Death, as well as five other national bestselling Maisie Dobbs novels. She has won numerous awards for her work, including the Agatha, Alex, and Macavity Awards for the first book in the series, Maisie Dobbs Maisie Dobbs. Originally from the United Kingdom, she now lives in California.

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