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    A Dangerous Place: A Maisie Dobbs Novel
    A Dangerous Place: A Maisie Dobbs Novel
    A Dangerous Place: A Maisie Dobbs Novel
    Ebook361 pages6 hours

    A Dangerous Place: A Maisie Dobbs Novel

    By Jacqueline Winspear

    3.5/5

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    Four years after she set sail from England, leaving everything she most loved behind, Maisie Dobbs at last returns, only to find herself in a dangerous place . . .  

    In Jacqueline Winspear‘s  powerful story of political intrigue and personal tragedy, a brutal murder in the British garrison town of Gibraltar leads Maisie into a web of lies, deceit, and peril.

    Spring 1937. In the four years since she left England, Maisie Dobbs has experienced love, contentment, stability—and the deepest tragedy a woman can endure. Now, all she wants is the peace she believes she might find by returning to India. But her sojourn in the hills of Darjeeling is cut short when her stepmother summons her home to England; her aging father Frankie Dobbs is not getting any younger.

    But on a ship bound for England, Maisie realizes she isn’t ready to return. Against the wishes of the captain who warns her, “You will be alone in a most dangerous place,” she disembarks in Gibraltar. Though she is on her own, Maisie is far from alone: the British garrison town is teeming with refugees fleeing a brutal civil war across the border in Spain.

    Yet the danger is very real. Days after Maisie’s arrival, a photographer and member of Gibraltar’s Sephardic Jewish community, Sebastian Babayoff, is murdered, and Maisie becomes entangled in the case, drawing the attention of the British Secret Service. Under the suspicious eye of a British agent, Maisie is pulled deeper into political intrigue on “the Rock”—arguably Britain’s most important strategic territory—and renews an uneasy acquaintance in the process. At a crossroads between her past and her future, Maisie must choose a direction, knowing that England is, for her, an equally dangerous place, but in quite a different way.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateMar 17, 2015
    ISBN9780062220578
    Author

    Jacqueline Winspear

    Jacqueline Winspear is the author of the New York Times bestsellers The Consequences of Fear, The American Agent, and To Die but Once, as well as thirteen other bestselling Maisie Dobbs novels and The Care and Management of Lies, a Dayton Literary Peace Prize finalist. Jacqueline has also published two nonfiction books, What Would Maisie Do? and a memoir, This Time Next Year We’ll Be Laughing. Originally from the United Kingdom, she divides her time between California and the Pacific Northwest.

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    Reviews for A Dangerous Place

    3.5/5

    353 ratings46 reviews

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    • 3/5
      3.5 I was disappointed that the book opens to let us know that some very significant events in Maisie's life have been reduced to a few pages. I think there could have been another book or two to take place during those important years. This book just didn't keep my interest as well as the previous volumes in the series. I even thought Maisie was too predictable and a little boring. I have loved the series, and hope the next book is better.
    • 5/5
      At the end of the last novel, Maisie had decided to expand her horizons with hopes of finding herself and deciding to accept or not accept James' marriage proposal.

      Well, as the date of James' ultimatum approaches, Maisie sends him her response...and I can't really share any more details without spoiling the book.

      READ IT IF YOU LOVE MAISIE.
    • 4/5
      I have followed the Masie Dobbs series from book 1. I thoroughly enjoy this series. The progression of Masie's life and the lives of the ongoing characters are enjoyable to watch. As a stand alone book I am not certain how a first time reader would judge it. The story line is a good one - but may not inspire one to begin with book 1 and move up to this one.
    • 4/5
      2015, Harper Collins, Read by Orlagh CassidyPublisher’s Summary: adapated from Audible.comSpring 1937. Maisie’s been gone from England four years and has endured the deepest tragedy a woman can endure. Now all she wants is the peace she believes she might find by returning to India. But her aging father, Frankie Dobbs, is not getting any younger, and her stepmother has summoned her home. But on a ship bound for England, Maisie realizes she isn't ready to return. Against the wishes of the captain, who warns her, "You will be alone in a most dangerous place," she disembarks in Gibraltar: a British garrison town teeming with refugees fleeing a brutal civil war across the border in Spain.Days after Maisie's arrival, Sebastian Babayoff, a photographer and member of Gibraltar's Jewish community, is murdered. Maisie becomes entangled in the case, drawing the attention of the British Secret Service. Maisie is pulled deeper into political intrigue on "the Rock" – arguably Britain's most important strategic territory. At a crossroads between her past and her future, Maisie must choose a direction, knowing that England is, for her, an equally dangerous place but in quite a different way.My Review: As A Dangerous Place opened, I wanted only to know whether Maisie, after six months of international travel, had finally accepted James Compton – this is the arrangement they’d made at the close of Leaving Everything Most Loved. I was not prepared to learn of the devastating tragedy she had experienced around their union. Just heartbreaking! Winspear delivers yet another strong mystery story here, too, and Maisie works tirelessly, always patient in fitting together each piece of the puzzle. Admittedly, international political intrigue is not my forte, and I occasionally struggled to keep alliances and characters straight. But no matter, my primary interest in A Dangerous Place was in Maisie’s personal recovery – how would she move forward? when would she return to England, and how would she manage? would she return full-time to her work as psychologist and investigator?Well done, Jacqueline Winspear and Orlagh Cassidy. Highly recommended.
    • 4/5
      Maisie's life takes a new turn and the book gets an extra point as the story continues interesting in spite of all the literary defects.
    • 4/5
      Murder mystery set in pre WWII Gibraltar, with good characterisation and enough 'local colour' to keep up the interest.
    • 4/5
      At the opening of this book, Maisie Dobbs has arrived in Gibraltar, in theory on her way home to England. In reality, she has realized she is not yet ready to face her homeland.

      It takes us a bit to learn fully what tragic events have set Maisie adrift.

      But as that background unfolds, Maisie is embarking, unintended, on a new investigation--the strange murder of a young photographer. The police immediately conclude that he was killed by a refugee from war-torn Spain, motivated by robbery. They attribute the photographer's camera being left behind to the coincidental arrival of Maisie on a walk.

      Gibraltar in 1937 isn't a safe place to be, but the danger is mostly potential. England still hopes that Europe isn't on the brink of war. The civil war is Spain is alarming, no doubt, but British authorities hope to profit from trade with the Nationalists, i.e., Franco's Fascists, backed by Hitler's Germany. British, German, and Italian ships are all patrolling the nearby waters, but the Rock isn't about to be attacked, at least not yet.

      Maisie, working through her grief, gets caught up in finding the truth of young Sebastian Babayoff's death, as much a distraction from her own grief as for the problem itself. She has no client in this case, after all. Yet she can't let it go. And as she investigates, she gets to know Senor Salazaar, a local cafe owner, Mrs. Bishop, the owner of the quiet guesthouse, she's staying in, Sebastian's sister Miriam, and Jacob Solomon, owner of a haberdasher shop who had given Sebastian studio space.

      She also attracts the attention of the British intelligence services.

      Once again, Maisie's growth is a bigger component here than the mystery of Sebastian Babayoff's death. And Maisie starts to wonder after a time how much her involvement in that investigation is her own doing, and how much she's being led by British intelligence, for other people's reasons. It's an engrossing and moving novel, but not necessarily a great mystery story.

      Recommended.

      I received a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
    • 4/5
      Since the last book, Maisie married James, moved to Canada, and became pregnant. James was killed in an airplane test crash and she subsequently lost the baby in shock. After spending and extended time in India, this story picks up in Gibralter, where Maisie has interrupted her voyage back to England from India to further brace herself for returning to face her losses head on.Spain is in the midst of civil war and Gibralter is filled with refugees. While out walking in the evening, Maisie discovers the body of a local photographer whom the police conclude was murdered by one of the refugees. This rapid conclusion doesn't sit well with Maisie and she embarks on an investigation of her own. Immersing herself back in her old line of work helps her to deal with the pains of grief.There is surveillance from Scotland yard, incursions into a war zone to provide medical services, and a variety of twists and turns typical to a Maisie Dobbs story. Although the tone was more somber than the most recent books, I still enjoyed this story very much and look forward to the next Maisie Dobbs adventure.
    • 4/5
      At the end of the last book in the Maisie Dobbs series, Maisie hadn't decided whether or not to accept James Compton's proposal. Several years have elapsed since the conclusion of that book. Maisie did marry James and moved with him to Canada, where he worked in the aeronautics industry. James was killed during a test flight, and Maisie's shock and grief caused her to lose the child she was carrying. Maisie has been unable to face returning to England and the home she had shared with James. Maisie has reached Gibraltar, and her discovery of a dead photographer shortly after her arrival gives her a puzzle to occupy her mind. Maisie's case map soon has threads leading to the Spanish Civil War, local communists, and intelligence agents (both British and foreign).I had hoped Maisie had left the world of espionage behind in A Lesson in Secrets, but it wasn't to be. I don't think the style of this series is particularly well suited to espionage plots. Even Maisie admitted to another character toward the end of the book that the explanation for the murder had become convoluted. She tried out several explanations of the death in conversations with several different characters, and each successive explanation served more to obfuscate than clarify the circumstances of the murder. The tension peaked too early, and Maisie's foray into war-torn Spain is unnecessary to the plot (although it is within character for Maisie to put her wartime nursing experience to use when she sees a great need for it.) I don't think this book would work as well as a stand-alone as some of the other books in the series. The series shifted from a post-war First World War focus to a build-up to World War II focus with A Lesson in Secrets, and I would recommend that readers new to the series go back at least that far to catch up before reading this installment.
    • 3/5
      Winspear has completely rebooted Maisie Dobbs and it'll be interesting to see what happens to her. The mystery in this book wasn't very good and it got boring reading about Maisie being followed by different men but I'll still keep reading the series.
    • 3/5
      Maisie is not in London, or England, in this latest story. It's nigh-on impossible to comment on this plot without spoiling, so let me just say:
      This was well-done, yet different from the earlier Maisier Dobbs stories.
    • 4/5
      This, number eleven in the Maisie Dobbs series, has Maisie working undercover for British Intelligence in Gibraltar, on the eve of the Second World WarIt’s pretty obvious—since I’m on #11—that I really like this series, but it long ago became less about the mystery and more about Maisie and the people in her life. Sometimes she’s maddening, but I am still entranced.4 stars
    • 4/5
      After the last few novels and Masie having to make choices about her future and the author pulls the rug out from under her in the first 10 or so pages, I found it somewhat jarring and discomfiting.Maisie goes from Canada to India and sails back (via the Suez canal) to England but when the boat stops in Gibraltar she decides to stop off and stay ther for a while, feeling a huge pressure to deal with the past and present. And then she falls over (quite literally) a body. She is sure that the dead man is not as he seems and with the Spanish Civil War next door she gets involved in complex politics of the era and human drama as it plays out.The beginning gave me some reading whiplash, but overall it was an interesting read. Maisie learns more about herself and how she wants to live her life.
    • 2/5
      Gibraltar is a stopping-off place for Maisie on her way home to England, and in some ways, this book feels like a stopping-off place - a stepping stone if you like - between the last book in the series and the next. The background of Gibraltar and particularly the Spanish Civil War (+ the Guernica episode) are well described, and as several reviewers have commented, fill in some gaps in our general awareness of this period. I the final analysis though, I found that I didn't really care that much about what happened to the characters(!), and felt that things would be much improved if Maisie was back in the UK with some of the familiar characters around her.
    • 4/5
      I was initially alarmed to discover, at the beginning of this book (so no spoiler alert) that Maisie had finally married James and was pregnant with their baby when James suddenly died piloting a plane. As a result, Maisie miscarried the baby. Holy smoke! How much can one character be expected to bear? But then I considered: how could she go on investigating crimes as a new mother married to a wealthy aristocrat who is somewhat in the public eye? Obviously, she could not, so the husband and child had to go. But what a shock! I sure hope Winspear has a happy ending planned for Maisie somewhere in the future. This episode started off a little slowly but built into a good story. I liked reading about Gibraltar, a place I had never thought about before, and the Spanish Civil War provided a suspenseful background for the action, such as it was. And I look forward to her next adventure in Munich.
    • 4/5
      Less mystery than usual but a better back story.
    • 5/5
      Maisie Dobbs has suffered tremendous loss, most recently the death of her husband and unborn child, and is now trying to come back to life in Gilbralter amidst the Spanish civil war. The mystery is secondary to the setting and Maisie's recovery
    • 2/5
      Very disappointing book from such an interesting series. Little action occurs, besides Maisie going from one location to another and back and forth as she tries to connect information about a murder, while recovering from painful events. Too many irrelevant details and redundant dialogues.
    • 2/5
      Maisie Dobbs finds herself in Gibraltar, licking her wounds after recent tragedy. Literally stumbling over a dead body, she suspects the police explanation of the murder is lacking. Not specifically hired by anyone and thus not an 'official' case, Maisie still feels the circumstances require her intervention. Her investigation takes her into Spain at the height of hostilities in that benighted Civil War -- most definitely a 'dangerous place.' However, the title may also refer to Maisie's inner turmoil as she deals with her personal demons. Readers familiar with the first ten books of this series know Maisie has much practice in dealing with inner demons. Now, for a rant and why I doubt I'll read any further in this series (WARNING Spoliers abound!): Writers of series such of this have a certain compact of fidelity with their readers. Loyal followers have invested time, expense and emotion in the story and characters. In the lead up to this latest installment, we have suffered mightily with Miss Dobbs. We have watched the ever kind, handsome and patient James plight his troth over several books. When last we left Maisie, she has finally promised a 'yes' or 'no' answer to his proposal. So, what happens? Within the space of a few short pages related in cursory fashion, we are propelled forward four years, only to learn of their blissful wedding, happy marriage and blessed hopes as expected parents. Husband and child are summarily killed by plane and miscarriage. By page 18 or so we are washed upon the shores of Gibraltar. What? We don't get to experience the answer to the proposal? The wedding? Some of their happiness? The answer to several books gone by of how she'll handle her work and marriage? Talk about a betrayal of those who have stuck around this long! And now we get more inner angst and navel gazing? Talk about pulling the rug out! I understand killing off major characters. Had we been there for the promised pay off, perhaps we could join more fully in her incredible grief. On top of which, Maisie has become hideously self indulgent, selfish and petulant. She escapes off the grid, avoiding all contact with her elderly infirm father, whom she hasn't seen since her marriage -- and is clearly worried about her. She refuses to go to England, thus denying her dead husband's parents the chance to even hold a Memorial service as they await her return. They can't have the service without the daughter-in-law widow. And Maisie knows they can't but still doesn't go back. Who does this? And it gets fixed by blithe little letters with no return address assuming their understanding? I am thoroughly tired of Miss Dobbs and I suspect Ms. Winspear must be as well to have had such an abrupt off-screen deus ex machina veering of plot. I give this two stars -- one for the author writing it and one for me for reading it.
    • 3/5
      I'm coming late to the Maisie Dobbs library expecting a mysterious whodunnit. But this is different. And the back story would help. Not that Winspear doesn't do a good job of bringing first readers up to date. She does. But the personal story of Maisie is such a big part of this book, that starting in the beginning would obviously be a different experience than dipping here so late in her journey.The book is mostly about Maisie, rather than the detective work she does. Indeed, the mystery is rather a hook on which to hang musings about Maisie's struggles, and her continuing life adventures.
    • 4/5
      Seeking solace from the death of her husband and infant daughter, Maisie travels to India. On her way home, she tarries in Gibraltar, where she literally stumbles over a murder victim. As no own else seems to care, she pursues her own investigation. The Spanish Civil War and Guernica provide ugly contexts for her quest but she does prevail.
    • 3/5
      Not one of my favorites in the Maisie Dobbs series.
    • 4/5
      A Dangerous Place is the 11th book in the series, and we pick up the story in 1937, four years after the last book ended. Maisie and her husband James are living in Canada, where James is working on planes for the government.After a tragedy, Maisie decides to return to India to heal. When her stepmother wires Maisie asking her to return home to England, Maisie decides to go, but ends up in Gibraltar, a British garrison town off the coast of Spain.Maisie discovers the dead body of a photographer, a Sephardic Jew, and feeling that the police aren't interested in finding the killer, Maisie uses her skills to solve the murder, and gets involved in a dangerous political situation.Winspear always does a great deal of research for her books, and in this one, we learn a great deal about the Spanish Civil War, including the bombing of a marketplace in Guernica, where many women and children were killed by fascist forces. For someone who doesn't know much about the politics in Spain at this time, it is enlightening.Since Maisie is alone in Gibraltar, we don't see many of our favorite characters from previous books- no Billy, no Priscilla, no Lady Rowan. I have to admit I miss Maisie's interactions with the characters I have grown to like. The only one who makes an appearance is Inspector MacFarlane, Maisie's sometimes nemesis, sometimes reluctant police partner.At the end of the story, Maisie assists some nurses who are traveling to care for the men fighting the civil war. This part was most interesting for me, as Maisie seemed to come out of her funk, and was at her best organizing the makeshift hospital and helping the nurses care for the men under difficult conditions. It was a welcome callback to Maisie and her nursing days in France.We'll have to wait until next year's book to find out if Maisie returns home and resumes her life as a private investigator. I can't say that this one was my favorite in the Maisie Dobbs series, but as always, I learned something about a time and place I knew little about, and that is always a good thing.
    • 2/5
      If this had been the first Maisie Dobbs book I've read, I would have rated it three stars for being a somewhat overwrought spy thriller. But since I have been a devoted Maisie devotee for 1 books, and since I waited almost three years for the next installment, all I can say is shame on you Jacqueline Winspear! Plenty of spoilers to come as I elaborate on why I hated this book.Winspear opends this book in 1937, three years after ending Leaving Everything Most Loved and then proceeds to sum up what has happened with Maisie (sou searching in India, marrying James, moving to Canada and finally being happy, becoming pregnant and then losing James in a plane crash and her unborn child as a result of that crash) in 18(!!) pages all related in epistolary fashion through letters, telegrams and newspaper articles. I should have just tossed the book aside at this point, but no, I plowed on.Maisie then has to go on some kind of grief pilgrimage, cutting off contact with everyone she knows, finally ending up, once again, in india. Maisie has always had an unfortunate habit of naval gazing, but in this book she takes it to the point or narcissism. Finally, a letter from her step-mother, Brenda, reminding her that Frankie, her much beloved father, isn't getting any younger, prods Maisie to book passage back to England.But wait! The closer she gets to home, the more she's all a-twitter that she just cannot possibly face it, so she jumps ship at Gibralter. There, she literally stumbles over a dead body (there is always one of those, isn't there?) and even though the police tell her that the man has been killed by a refugee (one of many apparently) from the Spanish Civil War, Maisie decides that she must discover THE TRUTH, and in the manner of the best Nosy Parkers, starts to stick her nose in things that certainly are none of her business.There are pages of ruminations about her old mentor Maurice - ruminations that have all been said in previous books - and for someone who is supposed to be intelligent, Maisie shows a singular lack of knowledge of what was going on in Spain. Perhaps in her self absorption she has neglected to ever read a newspaper?There are new characters galore, most of whom I didn't care about. Robbie McFarland makes an appearance and if he is really with Special Branch, why doesn't he just arrest her & put her on the next boat home? She is in a British territory after all? But no, he just lets her take a joy ride into Spain where, of course, she meets another sainted nun who is thinking of nothing but helping the poor war torn Spaniards. The end of the book finds her sending messages back to England and going back to Spain to work with the nun. Enough! At first I thought that Winspear, tired of her character was just fulfilling a book contract, but now I think that she's taking Maisie out of the realm of mystery stories and into the land of spy thrillers just in time for World War II. If that is so, may I suggest that she has her character bone up on world politics and start thinking about someone other than herself because I cannot take another mes of a book like this one.
    • 4/5
      Very good novel. So like the character and pleased she is appearing in new books. After the last book thought it was the end of the series.
    • 3/5
      I have read all of the previous books in this series and this one was a downer. After all of the build up in previous books Maisie's life is destroyed in a few pages. If anyone deserved a little bit of happiness it was Maisie but it was not to be. Winspear's ruthless handling of certain character's fates has been a nit picking point for me in the past but this across the boarding sweeping of plot and characters was disappointing. I might have been able to forgive her if the mystery had been the least bit stimulating but I found it dreadfully boring. Part of the plot revolved around the Spanish Civil War which I had never heard of while previous books focused on the more familiar World War I setting. Consequently plot points in this novel were not as interesting to me as in previous books. I really had to drag myself through this depressing book. It is clear that this book marks a pivotal change in the series so I will hang on for another installment to see if things pick up. Hopefully Maisie will return to England for happier times with beloved characters.
    • 5/5
      The only book that I have ever read that book place on Gibralter, this book has stayed with me for that reason. Kudos to Winspear for coming up with a completely new version of a locked room mystery. World War II is drawing near, and Maisie is in a deep depression after major upheavals in her life. I thoroughly enjoyed this book.
    • 4/5
      Maisie Dobbs returns in her 11th novel, and may they continue. She’s been married, had both her husband and unborn baby die. Distraught she looks for peace in India. On her return to England, she stops off in Gilbralter, where she stumbles upon a dead man. Searching for his killer helps bring her out of her depression. This story is as much of a history lesson as a mystery. She finds herself immersed in the Spanish Civil War. The story ends with her staying on to help as a nurse in a small Spanish village and I can hardly wait to see where she goes in the next book. Or will she solve mysteries in Spain.
    • 3/5
      I have greatly missed Maisie Dobbs, and this novel skipped a chunk of her life, but then filled in snippets here and there. The story begins tragically for Maisie, and her grief and sorrow follow the whole story. Winspear does an excellent job incorporating the pain and sorrow into the thread of the story. Maisie embarks from India to England, but leaves the ship in Gibraltar for personal reasons only to discover the body of a murdered man. The story follows the raging war with different factions in Spain, and the intrusion of Italy and Germany into the moray. This battle brings back painful memories for Maisie as she must learn to follow the teaching of her mentor, Maurice. Winspear builds elaborate settings, but her characters lack of depth of personality.
    • 4/5
      A Dangerous Place is the latest (#11) entry in Jacqueline Winspear's Maisie Dobbs series.The opening first pages of A Dangerous Place were quite jarring - a great tragedy has befallen Maisie. I won't spoil it for you, but this loss devastates her. (And truly this reader as well - I'm saddened at this turn of events.) So much so, that she has no desire to return to England - instead she only gets as far as Gibraltar. It's 1937 and the Spanish Civil War is underway.I've always enjoyed the slow building and piecing together of clues on the road to the final reveal in Winspear's novels. The path is never a straight line from A to B which is of course what makes a great mystery. In A Dangerous Place the route to the end is quite roundabout and busy - a bit too much in my opinion. Winspear has grown the series - and Maisie - with new directions taken in the past few books.There is of course a dead body in A Dangerous Place (every mystery needs one!) But, the ensuing investigation is a political cat and mouse game with watchers watching the watched. And sadly, I became tired of it. What I really enjoyed was what I have enjoyed in previous Maisie books - the slow coming to answers with interviews, visits and Maisie's case map. This is still present in A Dangerous Place. But what I didn't like was the political cat and mouse games and the duplicity of almost every character. It was, well, just too much. This may just be my bias - I am not a 'spy novel' fan.Winspear's descriptions of time and place are excellent. Maisie walks the streets of Gibraltar many times - I could vividly picture the old women mending their nets, Mr. Solomon's haberdashery and Mr. Salazar's cafe, as she visits these locations many times. (And it's always fun to see a mention of a place in Canada that I'm familiar with - however brief!)It's always interesting to see why or when a title was chosen for a book. This one has a great quote from Albert Einstein in the epigraph....."The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it." And this completely defines Maisie - she is one of the people who 'do'. This quality is one of the main reasons I have come to enjoy this character so much - her determination, her intellect, her compassion, her curiosity and her inability to let injustice go unnoticed."...he taught me about duty, about doing all in our power to bring a sense of...a sense of rest and calm to those left behind. I was - I am, I suppose - an advocate for the dead."I found the ending quite satisfying - it was a 'return to roots' for Maisie. I will be very curious to see where Winspear takes her character from here. I will definitely be picking up the next book in the series - this is a character and author that I do quite like. A Dangerous Place is a good read but isn't my favourite in the series. Readers new to this author will want to start at the beginning to fully come to appreciate this character.

    Book preview

    A Dangerous Place - Jacqueline Winspear

    CHAPTER ONE

    Gibraltar, April 1937

    Arturo Kenyon stood in the shadows of a whitewashed building opposite a small guesthouse known locally as Mrs. Bishop’s, though it had no sign to advertise the fact. He was waiting for a woman who had taken a room under the name of Miss M. Dobbs to emerge. Then he would follow her. She had, after all, been instrumental in not allowing the dust to settle on the death of one Sebastian Babayoff, a photographer of weddings and family events, and contributor of photographs to the odd tourist pamphlet. Not that there were the usual number of tourists in Gibraltar at that very moment. Refugees—yes. Government officials—yes. Increasing numbers of soldiers and sailors—yes. Black-market profiteers—of course. And to top it all, more than a few like himself, working on behalf of their country in a role not specified on any identification documents, but considered important all the same. In fact, the town was crawling with men—and, he had no doubt, women—with a similar remit: to be the eyes and ears of their government’s most secret services in a place seething with those dispossessed by war across the border. This place of his birth wasn’t a good place to be.

    Kenyon’s father had been a navy man stationed in Gibraltar when he’d fallen for a local girl of Maltese heritage named Leonarda. Such a love affair was not an unusual occurrence—Gibraltar was, after all, a military garrison. An only child, Arturo had grown up on tales of Lord Nelson and the Battle of Trafalgar, and the strategic importance of his home. His father had been killed in the war, but his loss at the Battle of Jutland in 1916 did not deter Arturo from following in his footsteps and joining the Royal Navy, albeit under the name Arthur Kenyon. It wouldn’t have done him any favors to be an Arturo on board ship. An injury sustained while at sea should have mustered him out of the senior service, but instead he was—as his commanding officer termed it—reassigned to another role. Which is how Kenyon found himself working for naval intelligence, now back in Gibraltar under the name by which he had been known until he left his mother’s house at sixteen on a quest to follow in his father’s footsteps. Fluent in Spanish and English, and the strange hybrid of those two languages that could be heard in Gibraltar, he was a good man to have at their disposal as far as the government was concerned. Especially now, when the Spanish were killing each other across the border.

    The body of Babayoff, a Sephardic Jew, had been discovered by the Dobbs woman when she was out walking one evening. That was another thing about her; she walked alone at night, despite curfews in place to protect the citizenry. At first it appeared as if she would not pose too much of a problem—Mrs. Bishop had informed a policeman that Miss Dobbs would likely book a passage to Southampton soon, based upon what had happened. But instead she remained and began asking questions and visiting Babayoff’s people, one of the older Gibraltarian Jewish families. She wasn’t doing these things in a hurry, Kenyon had noticed. It was as if each day she took it upon herself to make an attempt to tidy an ill-kempt room—dust a little here, sweep there, remove a cobweb or two.

    Dobbs was a strange one, thought Kenyon as he lit a strong French cigarette and drew until the tip almost enflamed. He’d followed her a couple of times since receiving orders. She was tall, her chin-length hair almost jet black, though he’d noticed a few gray hairs at her temples. And those eyes—she almost caught him looking at her once, and he thought then that those eyes might see right through a person, though the person in question might not see anything in return. If eyes were windows into the heart of a human being, then hers were locked tight, as if a portcullis had come down across her soul. Kenyon—whose hair was almost as black as that of the woman for whom he waited, though his eyes were the pale blue of his blond father—was used to watching people, well versed in discovering the truth about someone just by observing them about their daily rounds. He thought this woman, Maisie Dobbs, carried something inside her, as if she didn’t really want to be involved in the death of Sebastian Babayoff but could not help herself. It was as if she felt a responsibility to the deceased, having found his body. What was it she’d said to the police at the time? He’d read her statement in notes acquired from his man at the police station. His death deserves our attention, so his family can be at peace. There is a duty here, and it cannot be ignored.

    Peace? That was a fine word—everyone who entered Gibraltar now wanted nothing more than to be enveloped by peace. Perhaps this Maisie Dobbs was looking for something too. According to a report he’d received from Whitehall, she might have been traveling under another name; Dobbs was not the name on her passport. She’d begun her journey in India, bound for Southampton, yet had disembarked in Gibraltar three weeks ago. She should have continued on to her final destination, but for some reason she’d decided to remain, having left the ship against the advice of the captain. More interesting to Arturo Kenyon, a man named Brian Huntley, from one of those nameless government departments in London, seemed pleased to know where she was, and had given orders for her to be accounted for. Not intercepted, not approached and questioned, or even—he dreaded the word—eliminated. His brief was to keep an eye on her.

    Kenyon was watching the whitewashed house, its window boxes trailing geraniums, when the door opened and Maisie Dobbs stepped out into the sunshine. Though her clothes were made of cotton and linen, she was not dressed for fine weather as a tourist might. A black blouse and a narrow black skirt to mid-calf emphasized her slender shape, and she wore plain black leather shoes with a peep toe. She wore no stockings, which was something of a surprise to Kenyon. That woman could do with a bit of fat on her, he thought, and as he watched, Maisie Dobbs looked up at the sky, took off her hat, and put on a pair of dark glasses. Replacing the brimmed hat, she glanced both ways before setting off along the narrow passageway toward Main Street. It was clear that she was not short of funds—something about her demeanor suggested a confidence that attended the well-heeled. The guesthouse proprietress had informed him—in return for folding money—that Dobbs had paid one month in advance.

    Kenyon waited just a moment before stepping out of castellated shadows cast by late-morning sunshine against mismatched buildings, and kept her in view as she went on her way. He wondered why a woman of means would not be staying at the Ridge Hotel. Only a few years old, the luxurious hotel had become a mecca for the rich. And he wondered what had come to pass in her life, and why she’d chosen not to continue on her journey—for surely being safe at home in England would be more desirable than lingering in a town overrun with people running from hell.

    Darjeeling, India, March 20th, 1934

    Maisie Dobbs sat at a desk of dark polished teak set in a bay window, looking out across terraced tea gardens that seemed to sweep up into the foothills of distant mountains. She held her pen over a sheet of writing paper, but was distracted by converging thoughts as she watched a cadre of women pick young first flush tea shoots. Their hands moved across the bushes with speed as they snatched at the soft, rubbery leaves of Camelia sinensis, more commonly known by the name of the place in which it now grew across the vast estate. She continued to watch the women as they filled the deep baskets resting on their backs, held steady with a belt across their foreheads.

    Soon she would leave this place where she had found a measure of calm. March and April brought spring to Darjeeling; days of crystal light and pearls of dew on rhododendrons of peach and magenta, and on flora she had never seen before and might never see again. There were light breezes filled with a sweet fragrance, and days when she turned her face to the sun and felt its warmth flood her body. A chance meeting in Bombay, where she had spent several weeks helping a man named Pramal set up a school in honor of his dead sister—a woman whose killer Maisie had found—had led her to Darjeeling, and an opportunity to rent this bungalow for some three or four months. The journey had been long and arduous, by train for the most part, and then all manner of transportation, including her first—and to this point, only—passage atop an elephant. But it was worth it for the peace. In London—how many months past, now? Was it six, even so soon?—she had begun to doubt herself, to question what she had believed for so many years to be her vocation. On behalf of those who came asking for her help, it was her task to uncover the truth and lies that stood in the way of their personal contentment. Sometimes the truth and lies were held within one tormented individual, who sought out Maisie in her role as psychologist to unravel the contradictions underpinning his or her turmoil. Some had simpler problems—a missing piece of jewelry, or a profligate business partner who had hidden evidence of funds misplaced. But among the clients who came to the Fitzroy Square office of Maisie Dobbs, Psychologist and Investigator, were those touched by the unresolved and perhaps mysterious death of someone dear, someone whose memory was tightly held. Maisie had brought every element of her training, every ounce of her character, and every last ache in her soul to the task of restoring peace to the bereaved—but then it had been her turn to find peace.

    Amid the tea gardens and mountains, in the solitude she craved—a different solitude, away from even those she loved—she felt the war was truly behind her. All her wars were now behind her. It was as if the laundry had been washed and aired, ironed and folded, put away in a cupboard and locked. She had accepted what she considered to be her failings, had come to terms with her powerlessness against fate itself. Now, with the sleepless nights of dark thinking consigned to the past, she felt as if she were walking along a road that kept narrowing until it reached the vanishing point. She had come to a juncture where she could consider what might come next. And she knew the responsibility awaiting her: she had promised a decision. On March 31 she would send a telegram to James Compton: YES STOP, or NO STOP.

    Darjeeling, March 31st

    Miss M. Dobbs to James Compton

    YES STOP

    Miss M. Dobbs to Mrs. Priscilla Partridge:

    HAVE ACCEPTED JAMES STOP WANT VERY SMALL CEREMONY STOP JUST US STOP WILL WRITE STOP

    Mrs. Priscilla Partridge to Miss Maisie Dobbs

    HOPE THIS ARRIVES BEFORE DEPARTURE STOP WONDERFUL NEWS STOP RECONSIDER CEREMONY STOP DO NOT DEPRIVE YOUR FATHER OF WALK DOWN AISLE STOP I WANT CHAMPAGNE STOP

    The Times, London, April 1934

    The engagement is announced between Margaret Rebecca, only daughter of Francis Edward Dobbs and the late Mrs. Analetta Phyzante Dobbs, and James William Maurice, Viscount Compton, only son of Lord Julian and Lady Rowan Compton.

    The Times, London, August 1934

    A fine summer’s day greeted guests last Saturday at one of the year’s most anticipated weddings, when the Viscount James Compton, son of Lord Julian and Lady Rowan Compton (the former Lady Rowan Jane Alcourt, daughter of Lord Jonathan Alcourt), was married to Miss Margaret Dobbs, daughter of Francis Dobbs, Esq. Following a service at St. Joseph’s Church in Chelstone, a reception was held at the Dower House, Chelstone Manor, the bride’s home. While honeymoon details are held secret by the groom, it is expected that the happy couple will be leaving for Canada within the month.

    May 1935

    Maisie Dobbs to Priscilla Partridge

    Dear Priscilla,

    I cannot believe I have been married now for over six months! I doubted ever coming to enjoy the life of a wife, but I have found a certain delight in marriage, and though I might have had my doubts when I walked up the aisle (holding on to my father’s arm as if my life depended upon it), I made the right decision. We spend Monday to Thursday in northern Ontario, in a sizable leased house on the edge of a town named Dundas. James is very busy with what I can only call Otterburn business during those days. I worry about the work, which as you know involves his skills as an aviator (that’s all I can say, really), but he assures me he is more of an on the ground man. You may wonder what I do all day, now that (for the first time in my life) I do not have a job. I am going through Maurice’s papers with great care and am learning much about him and his work. It is illuminating. Suffice it to say, he had so much more to teach me, and I sometimes feel as if he were here at my side offering words of advice, and his own inimitable wisdom.

    At week’s end we generally return to Toronto—not a short journey by any means, but we enjoy our apartment (the one where James lived in bachelor days), which is very large, I must say, and we have so much fun sailing on the lake. Sometimes we remain in Dundas, however, we end up seeing more of the Otterburns at those times because they like to remain at their farm, and of course they have lots of guests and we are always expected to be at their parties. Fortunately, we can avoid them with more ease if they’re in Toronto—they have a rather grand house in an area called Rosedale—and as you know, I still would rather avoid Otterburn.

    I cannot believe Thomas is fifteen now, Timothy thirteen, and dear Tarquin eleven (and with a full set of teeth! I still remember him losing those front teeth!). At least my middle godson is no longer bound and determined to be an aviator—sailing, you say? Well, it’s lucky his pal Geoffrey comes from a family with a boat, otherwise you would be on your way to the coast every Friday evening.

    My father and Brenda are well. They moved from the Groom’s Cottage to the village two months ago and now live in a new bungalow they’ve purchased on the Tonbridge side of Chelstone. Brenda loves what she calls the mod cons that the cottage didn’t have, but they come back to the Dower House twice a week to make sure all is well, though I have tenants moving in on a year’s lease at the end of the month. Dad is establishing a rose garden at the new house, though he checks the gardens at the Dower House, which are looked after by Mr. Avery.

    Finally, to answer your question—please continue to keep our news under your hat. The doctor advised me to take care, so I don’t want to tempt fate.

    With love to you all,

    Maisie

    The Times, London, September 1935

    James Compton, son of Lord Julian and Lady Rowan Compton, was killed in a flying accident in northern Ontario, Canada, on Sunday. Details of the tragedy have not been revealed, but according to early reports the Viscount Compton, chairman of the Compton Corporation, was a keen aviator and enjoyed the hobby whilst working for his company in Toronto. Viscount Compton’s wife, the former Miss Margaret Dobbs, has been admitted to hospital in Toronto, though she was not involved in the immediate accident. It is understood that Viscount Compton’s parents have sailed for Canada, along with his wife’s father and stepmother. Viscount Compton was with the Royal Flying Corps during the war and received commendations for gallantry following an attack during which he sustained wounds. Details of a memorial service in London will be released by the family in due course.

    Toronto, November 1935

    Dear Priscilla,

    This will be a short letter. Everyone has gone home now. I did not want to return to England, but I do not want to remain here. There are too many memories for me to encounter every single day, not least James’ study—which looks as if he might be home at any moment—and a beautiful nursery that haunts me each time I pass the door. I had never expected marriage to James to make me so content, but it did.

    I will be in touch again, in good time. You know and understand me, Pris—I have to be alone, and I need to go away, perhaps even back to India. I think traveling might be the best idea. If I am on the move and not in one place, then I can perhaps outrun myself. If I linger, then like dark flies on a dead deer, the memories and thoughts land and terror seems to fester and pull me in. I cannot bear to be at Chelstone or even in London, where too many people will be watching me, waiting for something to happen, waiting for me to sink or swim, when all I want to do is float, as I did in hospital when the present was held at bay by ether and morphia and whatever else they put into me. The thought of return bears down upon me and renders even my home unsafe.

    Please keep in touch with my father and Brenda. I know they will worry—it was all I could do to get my father to leave, but Brenda understood. She once lost a baby too.

    Love, as always,

    Maisie

    January 1936

    Lady Rowan Compton to Priscilla Partridge

    My dear Priscilla,

    I find it so strange, yet heartwarming, that I have come to know you since my beloved son died, and our Maisie has been all but lost to us. Though I feared for them when a romance seemed to be in the offing, it seemed that they had so much going for them as a couple, and had settled into a very happy marriage—I think it surprised them as much as it did me! But now I grieve, for I have lost them both. You may not know that James’ older sister died in an accident when she was a child, and though the years softened the hard edges of my anger—for I was angry at my loss, there is no other way to describe the utter pain—Maisie became like a daughter to me. There was talk about her station, yes, but to be honest, when you have grieved as a mother, such things matter not. Once you’ve decided not to sink into the dark caverns of your aching heart and die yourself, only life matters—and as I am sure you know, you feel more able to tell the world what to do with itself if it doesn’t approve of you or your family. And Maisie was such a light. Of course, she had her days of sad reflection—the war did that to so many of our young, as you know yourself—but she was always so spirited. Stubborn at times, yes, but she gave her all to her work. And once she was married, she gave her all to James. That’s the sort of person she is. And now we don’t know where to find her.

    James’ father still has contacts where contacts count. I never ask him about it, because to be frank, I don’t want to know. When she had her business, Maisie would telephone him on occasion, you know, to squirrel some information from on high when she was working on a case. I think he rather liked it, being of service to someone in that line of work. In any case, he has not been himself since James’ death—none of us have—but I think it’s time for him to call upon his old chums in Whitehall. They always seem to be able to find someone who appears to have vanished into thin air. I’ll tell him the last letter you received came from Boston, though she did not mention where she was staying, or give a return address. I vaguely remember that Simon Lynch had a wartime doctor friend there who Maisie kept in touch with—she might have gone to him and his wife to seek solace. Or she might be alone, which always worries me, and I know it does you, too. I don’t like the idea of her without company, not after all she’s lost. And I am sure her health is not what it should be, especially after everything she’s gone through.

    I will be in touch as soon as I hear something.

    With affection,

    Rowan

    Boston, February 1936

    Dr. Charles Hayden to Priscilla Partridge

    Dear Mrs. Partridge,

    We met briefly when I was over in London a few years ago, and then again at the wedding. If you remember, I knew Simon Lynch during the war, and he introduced me to Maisie. When I first met you, you’d assisted her with some information on a case concerning the son of family friends, the Cliftons. She helped them discover a few things about their son, who was killed in 1916. Considering the horrors that happened during their stay in London, it is a miracle that Mr. and Mrs. Clifton are still alive and enjoy fair health. However, this letter is not about them. I wanted to let you know that Maisie has been staying with my wife and me at our home here in Boston. I believe she has not let anyone in England know her whereabouts—not an unusual response from someone who has experienced such a tragedy. I am a neurosurgeon by profession, and though I have an understanding of psychological trauma, my field is brain disease and injury—but I know deep shock when I see it, and I believe Maisie is in a very vulnerable position.

    The purpose of this letter is to inform you that Maisie has now left us. Pauline begged her to stay on, to no avail. My wife is very good with people, and she managed to bring Maisie out of herself, but in the end Maisie said she felt she had to go back to India, that she had found peace there, and she believed it was the best place for her to stay for a while. She said she had to unpick the knitting and start all over again. I guess you might know what that means—and I suppose in my heart of hearts, I do too. She needs to go back in order to go forward in life. God knows, she’s done it before, and if anyone can do it again and rise from the flames like a phoenix, then it’s the Maisie we both know and love.

    I hope this letter finds you and your family very well. Your boys were an impressive trio, I must say. I have a daughter about the same age as your eldest—if Patty ever comes over there, I’ll have to warn her about those darn good-looking Partridges!

    We will let you know if Maisie gives us a forwarding address.

    With best regards,

    Sincerely,

    Charles D. Hayden, MD

    October 1936

    Mrs. Brenda Dobbs to Maisie Dobbs

    Dear Maisie,

    First of all, per your instructions, we have not told anyone that you’re in India, even though Lady Rowan sends a message to the house at least once a week. I think she’s even been to see your tenants to find out if they know where you are, but of course Mr. Klein deals with them directly, and I know he would not tell a soul of your whereabouts—he’s your solicitor, after all.

    Maisie, I’m not one for writing long letters, but there are things that need to be said, and if you know this already, then consider it a reminder. Your father and I both understand what you’ve gone through—your dad watched your mother die of that terrible disease, and I lost my first husband and child. Between us women, we all know that the death of a child, even one not born, is a terrible thing to bear—and you were so late on, really. Then on top of seeing your dear James lose his life, well, that’s just beyond my imagination. My heart aches for you, Maisie, really it does. But that doesn’t stop me saying what needs to be said now. Your father wouldn’t want me to write this letter, so this is between you and me. Frankie isn’t getting any younger. He’ll be eighty years old next year, and though his only complaint is that limp from the accident a few years ago, time is written across his face, and he misses you. We all miss you.

    It’s time to come home, Maisie. I know you must be scared, imagining how difficult it will be seeing the places where you and James courted, and having to face the grief all over again. Not that I think grief is something you put behind you in the snap of a finger. But come home, Maisie. If for nothing else, come for your dad. You’ll be safe at home, dear love—we’re family. We’ll look after each other. I promise you that.

    Yours most truly,

    Brenda

    Bombay, January 1937

    Maisie Dobbs to Mr. and Mrs. Francis Dobbs

    COMING HOME STOP LEAVING END OF WEEK STOP DO NOT TELL ANYONE STOP PLEASE STOP

    On board the SS Isabella, off Gibraltar, March 1937

    But, Lady Compton, I—

    Miss Dobbs, if you don’t mind, Captain Johnstone. I’ve had to correct you once already. If you would just let me go about my business without argument, I would be most grateful. I have decided to disembark and remain in Gibraltar. I can join another ship bound for Southampton at any point.

    My good woman, you are clearly unable to grasp the situation. I doubt you will find adequate accommodation, and even if you do, this is not a safe place. People are swarming across the border from Spain—all sorts of people, and not all savory. Any location in close proximity to war presents an element of risk, especially for a woman.

    Yes, I am most abundantly aware of that particular fact, Captain—I was a nurse in the war, and closer to battle than you might imagine. Now, if you will just follow my instructions—the leather case, the carpetbag and my satchel will disembark with me, and I would be obliged if you would be so kind as to have the remainder of my luggage delivered to this address once the ship has arrived in Southampton. Maisie handed him a page of ship’s stationery. The details are on that slip of paper. Send care of Mr. Francis Dobbs. And it must go to exactly that address in Chelstone, and no other.

    The captain sighed. Very well. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. I have a note for you, too. I suspected you would not relent, so here’s a list of hotels and the like where I believe you might secure accommodation. I would suggest the Ridge Hotel for someone of your station—I have already made inquiries, and they have informed me that a room is available. It will be held until further notice.

    Maisie reached out her hand and grasped the small sheet of paper. Thank you, Captain Johnstone. I am most grateful.

    The ship’s captain raised an eyebrow. Please take care, Miss Dobbs. I wish I could urge you to remain with the ship—I repeat, this is not a safe place for a woman on her own.

    It’s safe enough for me.

    Maisie held out her hand to Johnstone, who took it in his own.

    I will ensure a taxi is waiting to take you to the hotel, said the captain, who held on to her hand a second longer than necessary, as if he might be able to keep her aboard ship after all. And please, be very careful. There is a war not very far away, and battle can wound people. Not all injuries are visible to the naked eye, and they can render the most human of beings volatile. That is what you are facing here; an element of instability.

    I understand very well, Captain Johnstone. And I know very well that not all wars are between countries—are they?

    She turned and left the cabin.

    After Maisie had disembarked, Captain Richard Johnstone made his way to the ship’s telegraph room—he had not asked a cabin boy to run this errand—and ordered a message sent to

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