Maisie felt her skin prickle. “What do you mean, upped and gone off?”
“Well, everyone knew her marriage to that chinless wonder, the Honorable Charles Whitney, was all done in a bit of a rush—remember me predicting the birth announcement would read ‘born prematurely’? I confess I was a little shocked at my foresight when I saw those actual words in the Times. It seemed that one week she was engaged, the next married, and then in short order a mother.” Priscilla sighed. “Let me tell you, they gave that girl far too much rope her entire life, and it came home to roost. Apparently she has some friends, all young women of her age, you know, early twenties, who are in Germany—Bavaria—having a whale of a time. Her best friend—I’m amazed she has one—was sent there to be finished and stayed on with some other friends. All I can say is that it wasn’t like that in my day.”
“You made it something like that, though.”
“No, Maisie—what I got up to at Girton should be no indicator of what happened when I was in Switzerland. For a start, I was younger and chaperoned when I was sent off to finishing school, and I certainly wanted to come home at the end of it. These girls are in flats of their own, and it’s one party after another.” She paused. “Plus, when I returned to England, I did not run away from my responsibilities. Neither did you. We knew what we had to do when the war came, and we did it. And you lied about your age. How old were you?”
“Just shy of eighteen when I enlisted.”
“I rest my case.” Priscilla picked up her cup, taking a sip of the hot tea.
“But why Germany? Everything I’ve read, everything Douglas has said about the situation there—it doesn’t sound like it’s a place to have a wild time.” Maisie paused, musing. “Mind you, Elaine Otterburn managed to find a party in the middle of the Canadian nowhere the night before James was killed.”
Priscilla set her cup on the tray but continued to clutch it with both hands, as if to warm her fingertips. “But here’s what’s happened. Elaine’s abandoned her husband and child, and now not even the Otterburns have any idea where she’s to be found. She’s gone to ground.”
“I don’t believe that. John Otterburn has money. He’ll find her. He’s probably got men searching everywhere for her.”
“Oh, she won’t come home in a hurry.”
“It’s not exactly safe there, is it, Pris?”
Priscilla reached for a slice of buttered toast. “It is if you have a bit of a thing for Herr Hitler and his raving Nazis.”
Maisie frowned. “What on earth do you mean?”
“You heard Douglas at supper the other night—he’s writing an article on this very thing, though heaven knows who might have the courage to print it.” Priscilla licked butter from her fingertips and pushed the plate toward Maisie, who took a slice of toast. “And you’ve seen it yourself, years ago, before you married James—didn’t you have a couple of cases where you witnessed the Nazi lovers in all their glory? There are people in high places who are enamored of Hitler and his cronies—and, much to John Otterburn’s embarrassment, his daughter has become one of them. Perhaps she became disenchanted with young motherhood—who knows? And remember, you were overseas and missed all the business with the abdication. You know what they call that Wallis in certain circles? America’s gift to the British! That was one way to rid ourselves of a Nazi-sympathizing king! Don’t repeat that with my name attached to it, will you, darling?” She laughed, then smiled at Maisie. “How about Bond Street? You’re looking a bit ragged around the edges. A few new garments are in order, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Maisie shook her head as she finished a last bite of toast. “Oh, no, no, no you don’t! I have plenty of clothes—I just need to unpack properly. Brenda’s going to help me when I return to the Dower House next week. In any case, I have a few things to do today.”
Priscilla stood up and reached for the tray. “Anything interesting?”
“I’m going to look at a couple of flats. The flat in Pimlico is rented, and I don’t want to go back there anyway—but I do want my own nest here in London.”
“You could stay here for as long as you like—I would love it.”
Maisie reached for Priscilla’s hand. “And I love being with you, Douglas, and the boys—but I need my own walls around me, Pris.” She went on before Priscilla could counter. “If I’ve time, I may go over to Fitzroy Square, just for a walk-around.”
“Slaying a dragon?”
Maisie shrugged. “Perhaps. And I’ve to see Mr. Klein too. I want to find out if I can stretch to a new motor car.”
Priscilla looked up and sighed. “I don’t think that will be a problem, Maisie. But do let me come with you to look—you know I love a new motor car!”