“The son who will set me off in the direction of the lunatic asylum is Timothy,” said Priscilla. The two women were sitting in the breakfast room the following morning, Priscilla at the head of the table, Maisie to her right. “He’s the unpredictable one. I mean, I can depend upon all three to be naughty, to find trouble where there should be none, but Tim can be quiet, and when he is not making a sound, then you know some sort of devilishness is being planned. My mother always said, ‘It’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch.’ And I have to confess, he reminds me so much of my brother Peter.” She barely paused before continuing. “Thomas is becoming a more sensible person, and—I might add—he shows every sign of being something of a ladies’ man, which we will have to see off in short order. I don’t mind a healthy interest in girls, but I do not want a Lothario in my midst. I want sensible boys.”
Maisie looked at her friend across the table. She wished she could assuage her friend’s fears. It seemed to her that every morning, Priscilla raised more and more concerns about her sons. Some were quite insignificant, although without doubt, the loss of all three of her brothers in the war, and the later discovery that one of them, Peter Evernden, had been working as an intelligence agent behind enemy lines, affected her deeply. Maisie smiled and reached for Priscilla’s hand. “You would hate having completely sensible boys. Come on, you love it, Pris—you love every bit of it.”
“Mark my words. Thomas is maturing into a good young man—albeit one with a glint in his eye—and Tarquin is still a naughty little boy. But Timothy—beware the boy who has secrets, Maisie. Anyway, you’re one of the most beloved people in his world, so if necessary I will prevail upon you to help.” Priscilla twisted a cigarette into the holder. “Assuming you might stay for a while.”
“I think I need my own flat, Pris, and I don’t want to go back to Pimlico. Too many memories. I know Lady Rowan would love me to live at Ebury Place, even though she concedes it’s too big for one—but again, it has too much of the past leached into the walls for me. In any case, it’s rented to a diplomat at the moment, some sort of consular official from a far-flung corner of the Empire, and I know there’s that second cousin in the family, Edward, who has his eye on it.”
“Of course you couldn’t go back there. But I do wish you would stay with us for a while, really I do. I am the lone woman with all these men, and it is quite lovely having you here.”
“Well, seeing as I have not found anything that makes me want to take a second look, I will be among you Partridges, and indeed my father and Brenda, for a little while.” Maisie sat forward. “Priscilla, I—”
“Oh, dear—when you call me Priscilla, I worry. It means you’re about to ask me something, and I should have to be on my toes when I answer.”
“Just wondering about Elaine Otterburn. What do you believe made her run? I mean, to abandon her baby. What do you think?”
Priscilla lit the cigarette, snapped the lighter shut, and inhaled deeply. “You mean, apart from being a selfish child in the body of a woman?” She tapped the lighter on the table as she appeared to ponder the question, then removed the cigarette from the holder and pressed it into the ashtray. “You know, I’m beginning to feel very guilty every time I light up a gasper when you’re in the room—despite your confession to having been a secret smoker after . . . well, anyway, after what you’ve been through.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there, Priscilla? About Elaine.”
“Oh, blast! Look, there really isn’t anything to tell. It’s just something Lorraine said that made me think, and she would never have said this to you. But as you probably know, Elaine had a terrible crush on James. Terrible. Typical of her age—what was she when we saw her at that party, before you were married? Twenty-one? Twenty-two? I warned you about her then. Anyway, according to Lorraine, the girl got herself into quite a state after you were married, and she found it difficult to be in the same place as you and James. Frankly, she could have done with a mother who brought her up short instead of indulging her. I would have, if she were my daughter. If ever a girl needed a mother with a bit of iron in her spine, it was that one.” Priscilla paused, as if weighing whether to go on. She sighed and began speaking once more. “According to Lorraine, on the day James died, Elaine maintained that she could not go to the airfield because seeing you—in full bloom, as it were—together with James was just too much. That’s why she didn’t fly that day.” Priscilla picked up the discarded cigarette, pulled off the crushed end, and relit it without using the holder. “I should have kept my mouth shut. I’m so sorry.”