She sat staring down at her glass while the silence seemed to stretch into hours.
Then Earl Monroe gently covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry. That must have been real tough.”
She gulped. “It was.”
The door swung open and crashed against the wall, startling them both. Earl snatched his hand away, while Elizabeth sat up straight, trying to look as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
Martin shuffled into the room, bearing a tray upon which a large soup tureen balanced at a somewhat precarious angle. “Soup, madam!” he shouted, making her jump.
“Thank you, Martin.” Elizabeth eyed the priceless tureen, wondering what on earth had possessed Violet to entrust it to his unsteady hands. “You may put it down here.”
Quickly she cleared a space for it near her plate, then watched in trepidation as Martin advanced one uncertain step at a time, bearing his burden as if it were a sacrifice being offered to the gods.
Holding her breath, she waited for him to reach the table, ready to spring into action should his step falter. When it happened, she was unprepared for it after all.
Martin tilted the tray just a fraction, but it was enough to start the heavy tureen sliding toward the edge. Elizabeth froze, certain that her butler would be badly scalded by the hot soup. Before she had time to let out her breath, however, Earl had leapt from his chair and somehow rounded the table in time to grab the tureen by its handles.
“We’ll just put it down here, sir,” he said and deposited the precious china pot safely onto the white linen tablecloth without spilling a drop.
Martin’s eyebrows twitched a few times. “I say, sir. Magnificent catch. Couldn’t have done better myself. Make a good silly mid-on proud, that one would.”
Catching sight of Earl’s puzzled look, Elizabeth murmured, “Cricket term.” She turned to Martin, who was still gazing at the major with something like awe on his face. “You may leave the soup, Martin. I will serve it myself.” She waited for Earl to reseat himself, still with a bemused expression on his face.
He sat down heavily on his chair as Martin shuffled slowly out of the room. “Silly mid-on?”
“Yes, it’s a cricket fielder’s position.”
“Silly mid-on? For real?”
Elizabeth nodded. “They have a silly mid-off, too.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I swear I’m not.” She didn’t think this was a good time to explain all the intricacies of one of England’s favorite pastimes. “Would you care for some soup?”
He obediently held out his plate. “This is one game I’ve got to see.”
“Well, I’m afraid you might have a long wait.” She carefully ladled pale green soup into the deep bowl. “The men who usually play cricket on the green have all been called up. I suppose the army might have a game now and then, though I imagine if they do it would be played at the camp.”
“That’s too bad.” Earl put his plate down in front of him and eyed it suspiciously. “I’d like to have seen a cricket match.”
“Well, maybe we can arrange something one of these days.” She watched him take a cautious sip of the soup and was pleased when his expression cleared. “I trust the soup is to your liking?”
He flashed a grin at her. “The soup is very much to my liking. Thanks.”
She quickly transferred her attention to her own dish.
“You must have been lonely growing up in this huge house,” he said, after a few moments of companionable silence.
She laid down her spoon and dabbed at her mouth with her serviette. “Not really. We had more servants then, and the house was always full of guests. My mother entertained a lot. Though I often wished I could have gone to school instead of having a private tutor. I think I missed a lot.”
He studied her with a grave expression. “I guess you did. What about now? This can’t be much of a life for a woman like yourself, living practically alone in a mansion.”
“Oh, I have plenty of companionship. Violet, Martin, and Polly are like family, and I have my various committees, and there are always people coming in from the village for advice or help with a problem. Though I must admit, I have been thinking lately of adopting a couple of dogs for extra companionship. There was always a dog around when I was growing up.”
The major smiled. “Didn’t you ever want to break free of all this and go see the rest of the world?”
She laughed, not quite hiding the bitterness. “Oh, I did all that. I traveled fairly extensively and lived in London for several years until I divorced my husband.”
He sounded surprised when he said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were married.”
“Almost nine years. Harry is a compulsive gambler. When my parents died I inherited everything. We moved down here to take over the management of the estate, and Harry managed to lose most of my inheritance in a little over a year. I divorced him before he could lose the Manor House as well.”
“Sounds like you were well rid of him.”
“Maybe, but it’s such a dreadful stigma to be divorced. Especially when one is the lady of the manor. I lost the respect of the villagers. It didn’t help that their new guardian is a woman. If it hadn’t been for the fact that it’s wartime and most of the able-bodied men are serving abroad, I would have had a much harder time of it.”
“Surely in this day and age people are more understanding about divorce. It happens all the time now.”
“In your country, perhaps. Possibly even here, in the large cities. But in a small village like Sitting Marsh, divorce is still frowned upon. It has taken me many months to earn back the respect of the villagers. Even now, there are one or two who look upon me with disdain.”
“Surely not. You are every inch a lady, and I drink to that.” He raised his glass with a flourish, warming the chill in her heart.
“Thank you. I appreciate the kind words, spoken by a true gentleman.” She tapped the rim of his glass with her own.
She was still staring into his eyes when the door swung open, and Polly rushed in.
The housemaid stopped short at the sight of madam and the American gazing at each other across the candlelit table. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Am I interrupting something?”
Feeling as if she’d been caught cheating at cards, Elizabeth cleared her throat. “What are you doing here, Polly? Why haven’t you gone home?”
Polly shrugged, then stacked the empty soup bowls into the tureen with a loud clatter that made Elizabeth wince. “Violet asked me to stay and help out with the dinner, m’m. I was wondering if you’d arranged for my lift home tonight? Violet said you didn’t want me riding my bicycle.” She sent a sly look at Earl, who looked at Elizabeth for clarification.
“Oh, yes, of course.” Elizabeth gave Earl an apologetic smile. “I wonder if perhaps one of your men could take Polly home? I hate to ask, but with a suspected murderer running around loose in the woods, I really don’t think it’s safe for her to ride home alone on her bicycle.”
She saw the shock in his eyes and was immediately contrite. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Major. I assumed you’d heard-”
He shook his head. “I’ve heard nothing. I’ve been gone all day, and after I checked in at the base I came straight back here.”
“It was a land girl,” Polly told him with relish. “They reckon that German what escaped yesterday killed her. Found her body this morning in the woods with her head chopped off.”
“That’s enough, Polly,” Elizabeth said sharply. “You may take the plates out now.”
“Yes, m’m.” Polly picked up the loaded tureen. “But what about my ride?”
“I’ll arrange something,” Earl said. “What time do you want to leave?”
“After you finish your meal will be fine, sir. Thank you.” Polly paused at the door, cradling the heavy dish in her arms. “It would be nice if Sam Cutter could take me home, sir. I’d really like that.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, w
hile Earl looked speculative. “I wasn’t aware you knew my squadron leader.” He glanced at his watch. “Sam hadn’t returned when I left the base. If he’s back in his quarters by the time I’m finished here, I’ll request that he take you home.”
Polly’s face was transformed by her smile. “Thank you, sir. Much obliged, I’m sure.” She backed out of the door, still beaming.
Earl shook his head. “I hope this doesn’t break any of your rules?”
“Not at all.” Elizabeth reached for her champagne glass. “Things have changed so much since I was a young girl. Servants have so much more freedom nowadays, and I’m afraid they have become lax in their duties as well as their attitudes. I’m not sure it’s a good thing. One can’t even refer to them as servants anymore without offending them.”
“War changes a lot of things.” Earl looked around the vast room with appreciation. “It’s good that you’re not close to a big city. It would be a crime to lose a place like this to a bomb. It must be hundreds of years old.”
“Seventeenth century, actually.” Elizabeth followed his gaze to the ornate ceiling, lovingly etched by ancient hands. “I just hope we can escape the bombs for the rest of the war. Norwich isn’t that far away, and it was heavily bombed in April of this year. I’m afraid the Norfolk coast can be quite vulnerable to attack, especially from the sea. We are all supposed to carry gas masks with us all the time, though it’s mostly the children who carry them these days.”
“Well, I reckon you’re well protected with a British army camp and an American Army Air Force base in the area.”
“As well as mined beaches and barbed wire along the cliffs. Not to mention Rita Crumm and her gallant troops,” Elizabeth murmured.
Earl looked intrigued. “Sorry?”
“Just a misguided, though very enthusiastic, group of housewives with an overambitious female tyrant for a leader.”
Earl grinned. “I take it you don’t care for this Rita person?”
She made a face at him. “Rita means well, I suppose, but she can be incredibly tiresome at times. I make allowances for them all. It must be hard to sit twiddling their thumbs while their husbands are risking their lives in a foreign land. Playing at soldiers makes them feel useful, as if they are doing their bit. And most of them do a lot for the war effort, like knitting woollies for the winter, collecting scrap metal, working in victory gardens, that sort of thing. Right now they have organized a massive clothes drive in the village, to help the people who have been bombed out of their homes.”
The major looked impressed. “Tell me about the murder. Was it really a land girl with her head chopped off?”
“Not exactly. It was one of the land girls, unfortunately, but as far as I know, her head was still intact. She was brutally attacked, however, with an axe, so the constables tell me.”
“And the police think the German pilot killed her?”
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “They don’t really know who killed her yet.”
“And what do you think?”
She studied her glass for a moment or two before answering. “I think,” she said slowly, “that there are a lot more questions to be answered before we can even begin to discover what really happened.” Questions she would somehow have to take care of herself, she silently added, if true justice was to be served.
CHAPTER7
Elizabeth was well pleased with the meal that Violet served up that evening, helped somewhat by Martin under the housekeeper’s eagle eye. Violet had managed to find a small beef roast, and the Yorkshire puddings definitely had been made with an egg-a vast improvement on the heavy lumps of batter everyone had been forced to endure for the past months.
The sherry trifle was a delight, delicate and flavorful as it should be. In fact, it tasted so good Elizabeth wondered if Violet had recruited a friend of hers to make it-a thought she would have to keep to herself for fear of insulting her housekeeper.
Earl was excellent company, amusing her with stories of his hometown in Wyoming-a place called Rock Springs, which, according to Earl, wasn’t much bigger than Sitting Marsh. Yet from the way he described the vast open lands surrounding it, there was a whole world of difference in his life there.
How he must miss it all, she thought as she listened to him talk about rodeos, roundups, and so many other things beyond her imagination. It was a magical world he talked about, and in spite of her good intentions, she envied the woman who waited for him to return.
Violet served brandy in the conservatory, obviously flattered by Earl’s effusive praise of her cooking. Even Elizabeth had to admit Violet had outdone herself and made a mental note to tell her so at the first opportunity.
Alone with the major, she did her best to relax in front of the glass walls that overlooked the lawns. This was her favorite room in the house-her own special sanctuary-and Earl Monroe was one of the few people she had allowed in her haven. She often wondered what he would make of that if she were to tell him so.
Settled on the wicker chairs, they chatted about the history of the Manor House, until he surprised her by asking, “Don’t you think it’s time you told me what it was you wanted to discuss?”
She tried to remember what it was that had seemed so important that morning. “There was really nothing specific,” she admitted at last. “I was wondering if you had any concerns about your accommodations and if there was anything any of us could do to make you more comfortable. You must be rather cramped up there.”
“I don’t think the men mind that at all.” Earl set down his empty brandy glass. “It’s a heck of a lot better than anything on base, and they get a kick out of staying in a big old house like this. They call it the Palace.”
“Really.” She rather liked that, Elizabeth decided. “You must let me know if you get too cold. I’m afraid the only source of heating is the fireplace, but we have plenty of coal in the cellar for fires, and I can tell Polly to make them up for you in the mornings.”
“It’s not that cold yet. I reckon the only thing that keeps the men awake at night is the noise in the water pipes. Sometimes it sounds like a freight train going through a tunnel.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I know what you mean. Dreadful noise. The plumbing is so ancient in this house. I should have someone look at it.”
“I can ask around the base if you like. I reckon I can find a plumber among the guys out there. Give him a home-cooked meal like the one I had tonight and he’ll be happy to help out.”
Delighted, Elizabeth beamed at him. “Would you? That is really most kind of you.”
“Least I can do after dumping my men in your home.”
“Oh, but that wasn’t your fault.”
“No, ma’am. Doesn’t make it any easier on you or your servants, though.”
“Oh, they don’t mind, really. Violet loves to take care of people, and Polly thinks she’s in paradise now that she’s surrounded by Americans. Even Martin seems to have brightened up since you arrived. Things have been rather dull around here for him since my parents died.”
“I wouldn’t say a murder is dull, Lady Elizabeth.”
She took a moment to answer him. She liked the way he said her name. It sounded softer, more romantic somehow, when he said it. Pulling herself together, she said a little more sharply than she’d intended, “Maybe not, but I’d just as soon do without it.”
“I’m sure you would. I didn’t mean-”
“I know you didn’t.” She rose, bringing him to his feet as well. “I’m sorry, Major Monroe. I’m a little tired, I suppose.”
He gave her one of his piercing stares. “You’re not involved in this murder business again?”
“Not really.” She shivered and rubbed her upper arms with her hands. “Though murder in a village the size of Sitting Marsh is thoroughly unsettling to everyone. Somehow I can’t help feeling a little sorry for that young German, hunted down by soldiers and the police, alone in a strange, hostile country where he doesn’t even know the language.”
“I know.” She did her best to summon a smile. “I’m being far too sentimental, I admit. It’s just as well I’m not a policewoman. I would take it all far too personally.”
He returned her smile. “I reckon they could do a lot worse.”
“Thank you.” Flustered, she moved to the door. “Goodnight, Major. I’ve enjoyed talking to you. Please, let me know if there’s anything else my staff or I can do for you.”
He hesitated, opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. “Goodnight, Lady Elizabeth.”
Her curiosity would not let it go. “You were going to say something?”
He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Well, it’s kind of weird, I guess, and I’m sure there’s some simple explanation…”
His voice trailed off, and she waited, intrigued by his hesitancy. When he didn’t immediately continue, she said impatiently, “Major Monroe, if something is not acceptable in the east wing, I trust you would tell me.”
“There’s probably nothing to it.”
“Nothing to what?”
“Well, this is going to sound real crazy, but some of my men have talked about seeing something in the grand hallway. I was just wondering if you had some kind of explanation I could give them.”
Remembering Martin’s muttering about her father’s ethereal return to the Manor House, she felt a chill of apprehension. “You mean the great hall? What did they see?”
“The great hall. Yes, ma’am. Well, a couple of the men swear they saw… a ghost.”
She felt as if all her breath had been cut off. “That’s ridiculous,” she said faintly.
“That’s what I told them, ma’am.”
“It must have been a shadow or something. These old houses can play dreadful tricks on the eyes.”
Death Is in the Air Page 7