An Unmentional Murder
Kate Kingsbury
Meet Elizabeth Hartleigh Compton. She's the house-rich, money-poor keeper of the manor-and keeper of the peace…In World War II England, the quiet village of Sitting Marsh is faced with food rations and fear for loved ones. But Elizabeth Hartleigh Compton, lady of the Manor House, stubbornly insists that life must go on. Sitting Marsh residents depend on Elizabeth to make sure things go smoothly. Which means everything from sorting out gossip to solving the occasional murder…In the thick of the Allied invasion, Elizabeth is sick with worry for Major Earl Monroe. To make matters worse, people and things keep going missing from the manor-namely Martin, the elderly butler, and ladies- knickers from the washing line. Before Elizabeth can track either down, a man is found shot dead. Few will miss bad-tempered Clyde Morgan, and the police are ready to call it a suicide. But Elizabeth-s not so sure-
Kate Kingsbury
An Unmentional Murder
The ninth book in the Manor House series, 2006
CHAPTER 1
Martin Chezzlewit was eighty-five years old and not in the best of health. At times his mind was clear as a bell, but there were times when he made no sense at all. He’d been a butler at the Manor House for more than sixty years, long before the Earl of Wellsborough’s daughter, Lady Elizabeth Hartleigh Compton, was born.
Martin took his job quite seriously, but these days, what with the constant climbing of stairs, and the ever-present hazards of wartime England, his duties often became too much for him, and he would wander off to his room for a lengthy nap.
Therefore, when he failed to turn up at the appointed time for the midday meal that fateful day, at first no one was particularly concerned.
Violet, busy at the stove as usual, did her best to mangle whatever provisions could be scrounged from the measly offerings of rationed food. Cooking in wartime England was a challenge for the best of cooks. Violet was not the best of cooks.
Elizabeth sat at the large kitchen table that had been scrubbed smooth by generations of housemaids, and anxiously scanned the newspaper for the latest accounts of the Allied invasion, which had occurred three days earlier. She had a personal interest in the events of the past three days. American flying officers billeted in her mansion had been involved in the battle.
Major Earl Monroe and his men had been absent from the Manor House for more than two weeks. Elizabeth was concerned for all the men, of course. Her concern for the handsome major, however, bordered on terror. News of the dangers faced by the pilots and their crews was sparse, but one didn’t need an overactive imagination to understand the consequences of flying over occupied France and Germany.
Her calls to the American base had been met with polite but firm reminders that information to the general public was restricted. Since she could hardly reveal the fact that she was madly in love with the major and therefore could hardly be considered general public, she was forced to bite her tongue and go back to the interminable waiting that so many British women endured these days.
If only Earl were not in the middle of a lengthy divorce, if only she were not the lady of the manor and expected to conduct herself with decorum, if only this damn war would finally end and put everyone out of their misery, life would once more be bearable.
Wallowing in her own personal hell, she was unaware of Violet addressing her until she heard her name spoken much too sharply by her housekeeper.
“Lizzie! For goodness’ sake, have you gone deaf?”
Elizabeth raised her head and frowned at Violet, who stood with her head tilted to one side, looking like an angry robin defending its nest. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve spoken to you three times, and you haven’t heard a blinking word I said.”
That was no excuse to talk to her in that manner, Elizabeth thought wryly, but then Violet had special privileges, thanks to her lifelong tenure at the manor and the fact that she and Martin were all that were left of the hordes of servants that once ran the Manor House so efficiently. “I’m sorry,” she said, mustering up a smile. “I was thinking about something else. What did you say?”
Violet still looked put out. “I said, the rag and bone man came again today. I gave him those old curtains we pulled down last year. They almost fell to bits when I shook them out but he seemed pleased with them.”
“That’s nice,” Elizabeth murmured.
“And stop worrying about the major.” Violet withdrew a pie dish from the oven and slapped the door shut with a bang. “He’ll be back soon enough.”
Annoyed that her thoughts were so transparent, Elizabeth said stiffly, “I wish I had your optimism, not to mention your clairvoyance.”
Violet clicked her tongue and turned to face her again. “You’re going to worry yourself into an early grave, Lizzie. Why don’t you-” She broke off as the door burst open and a pair of giggling girls tumbled into the kitchen.
Sadie was in the lead, and the boisterous housemaid came to a sharp stop when she caught sight of Elizabeth at the table. Polly, Elizabeth’s young assistant, bumped into Sadie, sending her forward a step or two.
“How many times,” Violet screeched, “have I told you two to watch your manners in Madam’s presence!”
Both girls mumbled an apology and slid onto their seats at the table. “So who’s going to an early grave, then?” Sadie demanded, having apparently overheard Violet’s last remark.
The housekeeper ignored her and started dishing up the pie onto plates.
“No one, I hope,” Elizabeth said, with a silent prayer. She looked at Sadie, wondering how to phrase the question uppermost in her mind. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Joe?” she asked at last.
Sadie shook her head and reached for a plate of thinly sliced bread. “Not since the invasion, m’m. Don’t suppose they can say much, though, can they. Especially since Joe is only my boyfriend. I’ll say one thing for these Yanks, they know how to keep their mouths shut, that’s for sure.”
“Not like some people I could mention,” Violet snapped, as she slapped a plate in front of Elizabeth.
She put the other plate down in front of Sadie, who looked at the pile of mashed potatoes covering a gray mess that defied description.
“What’s this, then?” Sadie demanded, sniffing warily at the offering. “It doesn’t look like shepherd’s pie.”
“Well, it is.” Violet stomped back to the stove to get two more plates. “It’s just a wartime version of it, that’s all. It’s Lord Woolton pie.”
“What the flipping heck is that?” Sadie handed the plate of bread to Elizabeth, who took a slice, silently echoing Sadie’s sentiments. The pie did look awfully dismal.
“It’s a recipe Lord Woolton sent out. Everyone’s using it nowadays.” Violet returned to the table and placed a plate in front of Polly, and set another plate in front of Martin’s empty chair.
“So who’s he when his mother’s home?” Sadie asked rudely.
Polly, who wore much the same expression as Sadie’s when she observed her plate, piped up. “He’s the Minister of Food, isn’t he, m’m?”
“He is indeed,” Elizabeth said. She couldn’t help wondering what a member of the House of Lords knew about wartime recipes. Knowing the others wouldn’t start before her, she picked up her fork and poked at the gooey mixture. “This does look rather odd, Violet,” she said reluctantly.
“That’s because there’s no meat in it,” Violet said crossly. She thumped a full boat of dark brown gravy down on the table. “Here, put some of this on it. It will make it taste better.”
“Nothing’s going to make this taste better,” Sadie muttered. “Whoever heard of a shepherd’s pie without meat?”
“We used up all
our meat rations this week,” Violet said, ignoring Sadie and addressing Elizabeth instead. “They all went on the steaks you wanted me to buy.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I know. That was awfully extravagant, I must admit. But I did so miss Earl’s steaks from the base.”
“The steaks were very nice,” Polly said helpfully.
Violet scowled. “Just thank your lucky stars you have an employer as generous as Lady Elizabeth. It isn’t often an assistant gets to have her meals free.”
“Polly’s more than an assistant, Violet,” Elizabeth said quietly, “as you well know. She’s always welcome to eat here with us.”
Polly nodded in relief. “I do appreciate it, m’m. Now that me mum’s working nights in the canteen, she gets her meals there. I’m not much of a cook and I hate being in that house all by myself. It’s so creepy.”
“It must be hard for your mother, traveling back and forth to North Horsham every day,” Elizabeth said, putting off the moment when she actually had to taste the pie.
“You can take that look off your face, young lady.” Violet leaned over Sadie, dropped her own plate on the table, and sat down. “It’s not going to poison you.”
“What’s in it, then?” Sadie demanded.
“Everything that’s good for you.” Violet picked up her knife and fork. “Potatoes, carrots, onions…”
“But no meat,” Sadie said with disgust. “Why is it so sticky?”
“That’s the oatmeal,” Violet said, her voice rising. “Just eat it, will you, and stop complaining.”
“Where’s Martin?” Elizabeth asked, more to defuse the tension than anything. “He’s not usually this late for his midday meal.”
Violet shook her head at the empty chair. “Taking one of his long naps, I suppose. I’ll put his plate in the oven to keep warm.” She got up from the table again and shoved the plate into the oven. Everyone winced when she slammed the door shut.
“Are you going to watch them pull down the factory tomorrow, m’m?” Sadie asked. She took a mouthful of the pie, wrinkling her nose as she tried to get it down.
“Lots of people are going up there to watch,” Polly chimed in.
“Well, neither of you will be there,” Violet said, coming back to the table. “You’ve both got work to do.
Though I must say, I’ll be glad to be rid of that eyesore. It looked so ugly after half of it burned down. It’ll be lovely to have the rest of it gone now.”
“They say they’re going to use a big ball and chain to knock it down,” Sadie said, her words muffled by the bread she was chewing.
“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Violet snapped. “Finish your meal then go out there and get that washing in. It looks like rain this afternoon.”
Apparently glad of the excuse to leave the rest of her pie, Sadie jumped up. “Excuse me, m’m. I’ll go and get the washing now.”
Elizabeth nodded, her mouth occupied with dealing with the pie as best she could.
“The rag and bone man says he’s coming back next week.” Violet picked up her knife and fork and tackled the unappetizing food on her plate. “I was wondering what else we had to give him. I feel sorry for him, I do. He seems so down and out, and that patch over his eye makes him look even worse. Lost his eye in the war, he did, poor devil. Must be horrible to only see out of one eye.”
“He looks like a pirate,” Polly said, pushing her plate away from her. “Acts like one, too, carting off everybody’s stuff. What does he do with all that rubbish, I’d like to know?”
“Sells it, of course.” Violet’s expression changed as she swallowed some of her pie. She reached for the gravy boat and poured a generous amount over the offending mess on her plate. “That’s what rag and bone men do. They collect stuff that nobody wants and they sell it to someone who does want it. You’d be surprised what some people will pay for stuff other people throw out. Especially from the Manor House.”
“Well,” Elizabeth murmured, giving up her valiant attempt to enjoy the meal, “perhaps we should think of selling it ourselves instead of giving it away. The roof needs repairs again, and if we don’t do something about those noisy water pipes soon, nobody in the east wing is going to get any sleep.”
Violet sniffed. “Since the only people who sleep in the east wing are the American officers, and we haven’t seen hide nor hair of any of them for two weeks, I’d say that’s the least of our worries right now.”
“They’ll be coming back any day now,” Elizabeth said quietly. “All of them.”
Something in her tone must have warned Violet, as she looked up, saying quickly, “Well, of course, I know that. I just meant for now, that’s all.”
The back door flew open just then, banging against the stove, as it was apt to do when opened too wide. Sadie struggled in, bearing a large basket full of clean, dry laundry. “You’ll never guess what,” she said breathlessly, as she dumped the basket in the middle of the floor. “All the bloomin’ knickers are gone!”
Her statement was met with a disapproving frown from Violet, while Polly giggled behind her hand.
Elizabeth stared at Sadie, whose face was flushed with indignation. “I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry, mum. I meant the ladies’ drawers. They’re all gorn!”
Violet tutted. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sadie. Undergarments simply don’t just disappear. You probably didn’t peg them firmly enough and the wind took them off the line.”
Sadie scowled at her. “Then where are they, I’d like to know? They’d be all over the back garden if they blew off, wouldn’t they?”
“Oh, dear.” Elizabeth stared at the basket. “Are you sure, Sadie? How many pairs are missing?”
“Well, I had three pairs out there, and Violet’s long drawers were out there and your knickers were out there, too, m’m-”
She broke off as Violet gasped and rose to her feet. “Sadie Buttons, how dare you discuss Madam’s unmentionables!”
“Well, she asked me,” Sadie wailed.
“Violet, do sit down.” Elizabeth smiled at Sadie. “It’s all right, Sadie. Sit down and get your breath. You sound as if you’ve been running all the way up the hill.”
“It’s the shock, m’m.” Sadie sank onto her chair. “I can’t think why someone would want to steal all the knick-er, unmentionables.”
“Probably that Clyde Morgan,” Violet muttered. “I knew there was something fishy about him.”
Elizabeth stared at her. “Clyde who?”
“Morgan. The rag and bone man.” Violet shook her head. “I left him in here while I went to get the curtains. I bet he stole the… undergarments while I was upstairs.”
Sadie made a sound of disgust. “Now who the heck would buy someone else’s knickers?”
“Eeew,” Polly said, screwing up her face. “I wouldn’t, even if they was washed.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Well, I don’t suppose there’s much we can do about it. We can hardly go around the village asking everyone if they bought ladies’ drawers from the rag and bone man.”
Polly giggled again, earning a scowl from Violet.
“I’m just glad Martin isn’t sitting here listening to all this,” Violet muttered.
“He’d probably have a flipping heart attack,” Sadie said, her grin suggesting she’d recovered from her shock.
Elizabeth glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece. “He is awfully late, Violet. Do you suppose he’s all right?”
Violet grunted and got to her feet. “He’s probably snoring away in his bed and dreaming he’s twenty again. I’ll take him a cup of tea. The kettle should be boiling by now. Meanwhile, Sadie, sort out that washing and fold it. You can get the ironing done this afternoon.” She got up from the table and went over to the stove for the teakettle.
Sadie left the table to sort the laundry, and Polly pushed her chair back, too. “I’d better get back to the office, m’m,” she said. “I’ve got some letters to sort out.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Very
well. How is your penfriend project working out these days?”
Polly and Sadie exchanged pleased glances. “We’re getting lots of letters off to the boys abroad, m’m,” Polly said proudly. “Nearly all the women in the village are writing to someone over there. Marlene says the boys are ever so pleased to get the letters.”
“I’m sure they are.” Elizabeth smiled. “You and Sadie are doing something very worthwhile for the war effort. Keep it up. How is your sister? Is she keeping well?”
Polly nodded eagerly. “Marlene says as how she might be coming home soon. They’re sending a lot of the ambulance drivers home from Italy, though she may have to go to France next. I just hope she can stay here for a while. I really miss her, and I know Ma does, too.”
“Well, give Marlene my regards when you write to her. Tell her I miss her, too. She always did such a beautiful job with my hair.”
Polly’s smile faded. “I don’t know if she’ll ever go back to being a hairdresser, m’m. She says as how the war has changed her, and she’s talking about becoming a nurse when it’s over.”
“How splendid!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “We could certainly use dedicated people like her.”
“Yes, m’m. I’ll tell her you said so.” Polly hurried out, and Elizabeth looked at Violet, who was pouring hot tea into the china teacups.
“It’s very refreshing to see young people getting involved like this,” Elizabeth said.
Violet carried a steaming cup and saucer over to Elizabeth and placed it in front of her. “About time they did something,” she muttered. “Instead of nattering about film stars and clothes all the time.”
Elizabeth glanced at Sadie, who rolled her eyes but, thankfully, held her tongue.
“Don’t disturb Martin if he’s sleeping,” Elizabeth said, turning back to Violet. “He’s seemed rather preoccupied lately. I hope he’s not falling ill.”
“The only thing wrong with Martin is his mind,” Violet said crisply as she carried the cup and saucer over to the door. “If he didn’t spend so much time talking to imaginary ghosts and worrying all the time about Germans invading us, he wouldn’t get so worn out.”
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