Maisie Dobbs

“‘Them eyes of yours, miss. Doctor said to concentrate on looking at something while ’e worked on me leg. So I looked at your eyes, miss. You and ’im saved my leg. Full of shrapnel, but you did it, didn’t you? What was ’is name?’ For a moment, Maisie’s throat was paralyzed. Then she swallowed hard. ‘Simon Lynch. Captain Simon Lynch. That must be who you mean.’”

Billy’s words here establish that the events of war are key to his character and Maisie’s. He has never forgotten her or the near loss of his leg. Maisie’s emotional reaction, her “paralysis,” suggests that she is uncomfortable with her past and memories. This establishes the key themes of war and grief and that Simon Lynch, as yet unintroduced, is key to Maisie’s story.

“Everything must be described and preserved. ‘You must write it down, absolutely and in its entirety, write it down,’ instructed her mentor. In fact, Maisie thought that if she had a shilling for every time she heard the words, ‘absolutely, and in its entirety,’ she would never have to work again.”

Winspear introduces Maurice Blanche through Maisie’s memories, a gentler example of her past’s importance than her wartime grief. The repetition of “absolutely and in its entirety” emphasizes both his high standards and that Maisie has internalized them. Maurice appears in the text before Maisie’s own father, emphasizing that he occupies a central role in who she is and the work she does.

“Maisie knew that she had found the lover, the man who had caused Christopher Davenham to pay a princely sum for her services. The problem was that the man Christopher Davenham thought was cuckolding him was dead.”

Winspear’s use of the word “lover” primes the reader to think in terms of domestic drama. The use of the term “cuckold” emphasizes the old-fashioned and traditional nature of Davenham’s views—he is concerned with his masculinity as much as with his wife. Winspear then shifts the drama to another key, inserting an element of wryness—a dead man can pose no direct threat to a marriage, but his fate can, and does, form the crux of a detective’s investigation.

“Maisie looked at Tom, then asked the question that had been with her since the man had first spoken to her. ‘Tom...where is your boy resting?’ Tom Smith looked at Maisie, and tears rimmed his eyes.”

In this scene, Winspear establishes Maisie’s compassion and her highly observant nature. The question was “with her” from the beginning, emphasizing her patience and natural curiosity. She waits to ask until Tom feels comfortable with her and then inquires about his “boy” at “rest,” avoiding direct references to death and suffering and emphasizing that parenting does not end with the loss of a child. Tom responds to her empathy, offering another window into wartime suffering.

“With an enthusiastic flourish, yards of vibrant purples, yellows, pinks, and reds of Indian silk were pulled out, to be rubbed between finger and thumb, and held against her face in front of the mirror. And she thought of the person she knew as Maisie Blanche, who suddenly but quietly had to take her leave, allowing her to indulge her love of texture and color for far longer than she had intended. Thus a day that had seen so many tears ended in the midst of a rainbow.”

The catalog of colors, followed by an emphasis on tactile sensations, reveals that Celia has been drawn out of herself and her melancholy. The metaphor of the rainbow evokes the Biblical image of a rainbow after the flood, a sign of favor after loss. The episode underlines Maisie’s care and concern and that she is interested in the solution to mysteries and the well-being of those she encounters.

“She knew she was out of bounds. But this was not new for her. She had spent much of her life out of bounds, living and speaking where, according to some, she had no business. ‘Allow the past to have a voice,’ Maisie continued. ‘Then it will be stilled. It’s only then that your marriage will have a future, Mr. Davenham.’”

The wording here sets up Maisie as transgressive, even rebellious, in her approach to work and life. Together with her earlier allusion to working as a servant, this deepens the sense of mystery about her past. Maisie is able to give advice to Davenham as she struggles to implement it in her own life, underlining that her investigative clarity does not always apply to herself.

“Maisie considered the meanings of ‘retreat,’ and wondered if the soldiers were, in fact, relinquishing their position, seeking a place of shelter from the enemy. For such men perhaps life itself was now the enemy.”

The wording here emphasizes the themes of War and Its Consequences and Grief and Memory. Veterans still need “shelter,” underlining that they are fragile, even endangered. The idea that life is now the “enemy” underlines the bitter irony of military service: Veterans have saved their societies and done their duty but enjoy none of these benefits themselves.

“Maisie felt a chill move through her body. And she knew that the sensation was not caused by the cold or the damp, but by a threat—a threat to the family of the woman she held most dear, the woman who had helped her achieve accomplishments that might otherwise have remained an unrealized dream.”

Though she is methodical and rational, Maisie is also attuned to senses and impressions that are more subjective. She holds Lady Rowan “most dear,” underlining that their bond is not merely about her business but more personal. This turns to the emotional signals and the shift toward the narrative’s second part, where the reader finally learns the full story of Maisie’s history.

“She wasn’t quite sure which text to start with, but felt that if she just started somewhere, a plan would develop as she went along. The feeling inside that she experienced when she saw the books was akin to the hunger she felt as food was put on the table at the end of the working day. And she knew that she needed this sustenance as surely as her body needed its fuel.”

The younger Maisie, like her older self, is independent and comfortable with intuition and gathering patterns to make a decision. She is similarly driven as much by emotion as logic, as her “hunger” for knowledge supersedes all other feelings. This also imparts an air of desperation to her quest, a level of vulnerability absent from chapters featuring her older self.

“And what you’ve got to remember, Dobbsie, is that there’s them upstairs, and there’s us downstairs. There’s no middle, never was. So the likes of you and me can’t just move up a bit, if that’s what you think. We’ve got to jump, Dobbsie, and bloody ’igh to boot!”

In this scene, Enid adopts the role of teacher, observing the class system just as sharply as Maurice Compton does in his relationship with Lady Rowan. The house itself is a kind of metaphor, and Enid extends it. Maisie’s work will be laborious, as there is no straightforward path but rather a leap—this emphasizes the transgressiveness and daring required to imagine a different future.

“Frankie was also tired. Tired of worrying about Maisie, tired of fearing that she would move into circles above her station and never come back. Tired of feeling not good enough for his daughter. ‘I know, love. I know. Let’s ’ave an end to the words. Just make sure you come back and see your old dad of a Sunday.’”

The repetition here enhances the reader’s sense of Frankie’s exhaustion and doubts. It further establishes the emotional toll of Maisie’s efforts to transcend her origins for herself and those around her. Frankie, unlike Enid, assures Maisie of his love, asking only for her continued presence in his life.

“‘Mr. Dobbs, I shall never ask what you did today. But I will remember this forever. I know what I asked of you was wrong, but I just couldn’t bear to lose them.’ ‘And I couldn’t bear to lose Persephone, your ladyship. But I ’ave to warn you. This war is far from over. You keep these ’ere horses on your land. Don’t let anyone outside see them, just them as works ’ere. Times like these changes folk.’”

This exchange underlines that the war is flattening the previously rigid class divisions in Britain. Lady Rowan recognizes Frankie’s expertise, and the two are united in their shared love of their horses. Frankie feels free to offer Lady Rowan his advice and support, reminding her of continued threats.

“Maisie pulled at the string, took off the lid, and drew back the fine tissue paper to reveal a butter-soft yet sturdy black leather document case with a silver clasp. ‘Oh…oh…it’s…it’s…beautiful! Thank you, thank you. All of you.’ Carter wasted no time in taking his glass and continuing with the toast. ‘To our own Maisie Dobbs.’”

This description of the document case, new in 1914, echoes the work’s opening lines, where Maisie is carrying a now-worn case in the same style. Thus, she literally carries her origins and the hopes of the servants with her. This is echoed further by Carter’s toast, which calls Maisie “ours”—she belongs to the servants emotionally, and they celebrate her as one of them.

“I have three brothers in France now. Do you think I’m going to sit here and mourn? Hell, no! I’m going to have fun enough for all of us. Enough fun for this time on earth. And just because it took a tremendous leap for you to be here doesn’t mean that you can’t enjoy life along with all this—this—studying.”

Priscilla’s advice to Maisie is a gentler version of Enid’s—a reminder that the world is more than knowledge. Her mention of the war and her brothers gives a new poignancy to her preference for leisure and joy. Her phrase “tremendous leap” hearkens back to Enid’s reference to “jumping” class positions, underlining that each woman will push Maisie to consider new sides of herself.

“But of the events that had passed in just three days, the picture that remained with Maisie Dobbs was of Enid, swishing back her long red hair and looking straight at Maisie with a challenge. A haunting challenge. ‘You worry about what you can do for these boys, Maisie. You worry about whatever it is you can do.’”

This passage underlines that Maisie’s great struggle concerns remaining true to herself in a world constantly changing—in three days, she has left Cambridge, she has met Simon, and Enid has died. Enid’s question is now “haunting,” underlining that she is no longer a living presence, a kind of ghost weighing on Maisie’s conscience. Maisie is summoned to action, a clear contrast to her innate preference for contemplation.

“Maisie and Simon Lynch saw each other at exactly the same time and moved quickly through the throng of visitors. The thumping of Maisie’s heart seemed to radiate to her throat and stopped the words of greeting she had so carefully planned. Simon simply stood in front of her, took both her hands in his and looked into her eyes.”

Maisie and Simon’s moment of simultaneous recognition establishes the growing romantic bond between them. Maisie is physically overcome with emotion and forced into silence. Simon does not even attempt speech, instead showing his regard with gestures and eye contact, effectively mirroring her. Their unspoken communication establishes that they are alike and a well-suited couple and that Maisie has at last found romance.

“‘You never gave me an answer, Maisie.’ ‘I know. It’s just me, Simon. And doing what we have to do. In France. I want to wait until it’s over. Until there’s no more…no more…death. I can’t say yes to something so important until we’re home again. Until we’re safe.’”

Maisie’s words here cement that her underlying caution remains an enduring character trait, despite her deep love for Simon. Her fumbling for words, in contrast to her usual confidence, is a sign of her fragility and doubts. She does not speak of her intuition, instead focusing on the desire for a security the war has deprived her of.

“Maisie raised an eyebrow, though she would never ignore a recommendation from Maurice Blanche. ‘Remember, Maisie, while there is always a victor and a vanquished, on both sides there are innocents. Few are truly evil, and they do not need a war to be at work among us, although war provides them with a timely mask.’”

Here, Maisie seems skeptical of Maurice’s efforts to encourage her to contemplate war and its consequences—a sign of her reluctance to face her own past. Maurice’s words here establish that he is open to the world’s moral complexities, that ordinary people are often forced into unspeakable circumstances. His use of a “mask” metaphor is an extension of Maisie’s own thoughts that veterans with facial wounds frequently covered their injuries, as this case relies on discerning hidden horrors.

“There’s a lot of men I see, ’bout my age, walking the streets. And we all know, miss, we all know who we are. Old soldiers what keep seeing the battle. That’s what we are, miss. I tell you, sometimes I think we’re like the waking dead. Livin’ our lives during the day, normal like, then trying to forget something what ’appened years ago. It’s like going to the picture ’ouse, only the picture’s all in me ’ead.”

Billy’s words establish the widespread nature of wartime trauma—in his nocturnal anguish, he finds others who, despite their relative youth, are “old soldiers.” He compares their existence to a kind of death, underlining that their loss of connection to civilian life was a kind of murder. He compares it to a movie, another recent technology closely associated with the 20th century—modern warfare creates modern wounds, even in the mind.

“And as she drew back the tresses, she revealed a purple scar weaving a path from just above her hairline at the nape of her neck, through her hair and into her scalp. ‘Long hair, Billy, hides a multitude of sins.’ His eyes beginning to smart, Billy looked toward the Retreat again, as if checking to see that everything was still in its place.”

Maisie’s gesture here and its attendant physical vulnerability establishes that she has truly come to trust Billy. Her choice to literally hide her scars until forced to confront them echoes her character arc in the text. Billy’s tears and inability to look at her underline his deep empathy for her pain, which he understands due to his war service.

“Dressed in the uniform of an officer who had served in the Great War, he stood with eyes blazing. She avoided looking at Billy, instead meeting Jenkins’s glare while ascending the steps to the platform. The men continued to sing softly behind her, finding solace in the gentle rhythm of a much-loved song. Standing in front of Jenkins, she maintained eye contact. Her action had silenced him, but in mirroring his posture, she knew of his inner confusion, his torment, and his pain.”

The description here reveals that Jenkins has literally put on his wartime self to carry out his horrors. He sees executing Billy as part of his duties, a macabre service to the past that has not left him. The “solace” the men find in the song creates a contrast—the men seek peace, while Jenkins is “blazing” with righteous outrage. Maisie finds herself both horrified and empathetic, sensing his dark emotions and his wounds.

“‘Just as we can become used to pain, so we can become used to experience, and in some cases a distasteful experience is made more palatable if we embrace it.’ ‘Like putting sugar in the castor oil.’ ‘Something of that order. Jenkins’s sugar was the power he claimed. One might argue that it was the only way for him to stomach the situation.’”

Maisie’s explication of the case underlines her psychological approach to investigation—she is deeply concerned with Jenkins’s motive and his past. She even empathizes with him, suggesting that his zealous pursuit of deserters was the only consolation available. Billy’s more prosaic analogy underlines that he has grasped Maisie’s approach and will become a suitable partner in her work.

“She, wearing her blue suit and a blue cloche, her hair in a chignon at the base of her neck. A few tendrils of hair, always the same few tendrils of black hair, had flown free and fallen down around her forehead and cheeks. She could barely see his facial wounds in the reflection. The glass was playing tricks, showing her the old Simon, the young doctor she had fallen in love with so long ago.”

The emphasis on the color blue is an homage to Maisie and Simon’s history—they first met when he dazzled her in a blue dress. The fact that she wore the color to visit him suggests that she has not forgotten. The glass serves as a kind of portal into the past, revealing what could have been, rather than emphasizing what Maisie has lost.