"Your Lordship, Your Ladyship."
"Carter, what news does Miss Dobbs have from Cambridge?"
"Very, very good news, M'Lord. Miss Dobbs has been accepted. We are all terribly proud of her."
"Oh, that's wonderful, wonderful!" Lady Rowan clapped her hands."We must get word to Maurice, Julian. Carter, send Miss Dobbs to see us immediately."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Maisie could not wait to tell Frankie Dobbs her news in person, and as soon as she could, traveled by train to Charing Cross Station, and from there to the small soot-blackened terraced house that had once been her home.
"Well, what do you know? Our little Maisie all grown up and going away to the university. Blow me down, your mum would have been chuffed."
Frankie Dobbs held his daughter by the shoulders and looked into her eyes, his own smarting with tears of pride--and of concern.
"Do you think you're ready for this, love?"
Frankie pulled out a chair and beckoned Maisie to sit with him by the coal stove in the small kitchen. "It's a big step, isn't it?"
"I'll do all right, Dad. I've won a place, and next year if I do well, I might get a college scholarship. That's what I'm aiming for. Lord and Lady Compton will be my sponsors, for the first year, anyway, and I've been putting a bit by as well. Lady Rowan is going to give me some of her day clothes that she doesn't want, and Mrs. Crawford said she'll help me with tailoring them to fit me, although there are strict rules about what I can wear. Not much different from a maid's uniform, but without the pinny, from what I can make out."
Maisie rubbed her father's hands, which seemed strangely cold.
"I told you, I'll be all right, Dad. And at Christmas, Easter, and summer, I can come back to the house to earn some more money."
Frankie Dobbs could barely meet his daughter's eyes, knowing only too well that it would be nigh on impossible for Maisie to return to the Comptons' employ once she had left. He knew how it was in those houses, and once she had moved beyond her station, she could never go back. She'd been lucky so far, but after she left, she wouldn't be so easily accepted. The gap between Maisie and the other staff would become a chasm. And what worried Frankie more than anything was that Maisie might not ever fit in to any station, that she would forever be betwixt and between.
"So when will you be leaving?"
"I'll start in the autumn. They call it the Michaelmas term, you know, like those mauve Michaelmas daisies that bloom in September, the ones Mum used to love. I had to get special permission because I'm not quite eighteen."
Frankie got up from his seat and rubbed at his back. He wanted to get the conversation back to a point at which he could voice his offer.
"Well, talking about 'avin' a bit more, like we were before we started talking about the daisies, I've got something for you, love." Frankie reached up and took down a large earthenware flour jar from the shelf above the stove.
"Here you are, Love. After I paid off the debts, you know, after your mother . . . I started putting a bit by each week meself. For you. Knowing that you'd be doing something important one day, where a bit extra might come in 'andy."
Maisie took the jar, her hands shaking. She lifted the lid and looked into the earthenware depths. There were pound notes, some brand new ten-shilling notes, florins, half-crowns, and shillings. The jar was full of Frankie Dobbs's savings for Maisie.
"Oh, Dad . . ." Maisie stood up and, clutching the jar of money with one hand and her father with the other, held him to her.
In August 1914 people still went about their business, and war seemed to be something that had nothing to do with ordinary life. But then a boy she knew in the village was in uniform, and certain foods were just a little more difficult to find. A footman at the Belgravia house enlisted, and so did the grooms and young gardeners at Chelstone. Then one weekend Maisie was called to Lady Rowan's sitting room at Chelstone.
"Maisie, I am beside myself. The grooms have all enlisted, and I am fearfully worried about my hunters. I have spoken to all sorts of people, but the young men are going into the services. Look, I know this is unusual, but I wonder, do you think your father might consider the position?"
"Well, M'Lady, I don't really know. There's Persephone, and his business."
"There is a cottage in the grounds for him if he wants it. You'll be able to see him when you are not at Girton, of course, and his mare can be stabled here. They will both be well looked after."
The next day Maisie traveled by train to London to see her father. To her complete surprise, Frankie Dobbs said he would "think about it" when she told him of the offer from Lady Rowan. "After all, I'm not getting any younger, and neither is Persephone. She could do with a bit o' the old fresh country air. And 'er Ladyship's been very good to you, so come to think of it, if I 'elped 'er out, it'd be only right. It's not as if I'm a stranger to Kent, 'aving been down there picking the old 'ops every year when I was a bit of a nipper meself."
Frankie Dobbs and Persephone moved from Lambeth on a misty, unseasonably cold morning in late August 1914, to take up residence in the groom's cottage and stables, respectively, at Chelstone Manor. Instead of rising at three o'clock to take Persephone to Covent Garden market and then setting out on his rounds, Frankie now enjoyed a lie-in before rising at five o'clock to feed Lady Rowan's hunters and Persephone, who seemed to be relishing her own retirement. In a short time Frankie Dobbs was being feted by Lady Rowan as the man who knew everything there was to know about the grooming, feeding, and well-being of horses. But it was a deeper knowledge that would endear him to her for the rest of her life.
Only days remained before Maisie was to leave for Cambridge, so time spent in each other's company was of prime importance to Maisie and her father. They had resumed the ritual of working together in making a fuss of Persephone as often as possible. It was on such an occasion, while they were working and talking about the latest war news, that Lady Rowan paid a surprise visit.
"I say, anybody there?"
Maisie snapped to attention, but Frankie Dobbs, while respectful, simply replied, "In 'ere with Persephone, Your Ladyship."
"Mr. Dobbs. Thank goodness. I am beside myself."
Maisie immediately went to Lady Rowan, who always claimed to be "beside herself " in a crisis, despite a demeanor that suggested otherwise.
"Mr. Dobbs, they are coming to take my hunters--and possibly even your mare. Lord Compton has received word from the War Office that our horses are to be inspected for service this week. They are coming on Tuesday to take them. I cannot let them go. I don't want to be unpatriotic, but they are my hunters."
"And they ain't taking my Persephone either, Your Ladyship."
Frankie Dobbs walked toward his faithful old horse, who nuzzled at his jacket for the treat she knew would be forthcoming. He took sweet apple pieces from his pocket and held them out to Persephone, feeling the comforting warmth of her velvety nose in his hand, before turning back to Lady Rowan.
"Tuesday, eh? You leave it to me."
"Oh, Mr. Dobbs--everything depends upon you. What will you do? Take them somewhere and hide them?"
Frankie laughed. "Oh no. I think I might be seen running away with this little lot, Your Ladyship. No, I won't have to run anywhere. But here's one thing--" Frankie Dobbs looked at Maisie and at Lady Rowan. "I don't want anyone coming in these stables until I say so. And, Your Ladyship, I'll come to the 'ouse on Tuesday mornin' and tell you what to say. But the main thing is, whatever you see or 'ear, you're not to mind or to say anything else, other than what I tell you. You've got to trust me."