Death Is in the Air
Page 19
“That would be a big help. I’ll see if I can pull a few strings in Whitehall.”
“Appreciate it, m’m.” George hurried across the room to open the door for her. “Thank you again for your help.”
“Not at all. I’m not happy to see Sheila Macclesby go to prison, but I wouldn’t want to see anyone pay for a crime he didn’t commit.”
George looked embarrassed again. “No, m’m. Neither would I.”
Violet plied her with questions when Elizabeth returned to the manor. “What made you think of that spade being put back in the shed?” she asked after Elizabeth had told her the whole story.
“It was when you told me about the vacuum cleaner.” Elizabeth put her teacup down on its saucer and leaned her elbows on the kitchen table. “You said that the last place Polly would look is where something should be. I remembered Sheila telling Maisie the same thing. That’s when I realized that if she was telling the truth about that night, she couldn’t have known the spade was back in the shed. She said she didn’t go down after she heard Amelia arguing, which meant, of course, that Amelia was still alive at that point.”
“And when you went over the next morning, she said she hadn’t been out of the house.”
“Exactly. So the only way she could have known about the spade was if she put it back in the shed herself or saw who did. Then again, if she’d seen the German pilot put it back there, why would she lie? It seemed obvious that she was covering up for someone, and that could only have been Maurice.”
“You never thought it might have been her who killed Amelia?”
“Not for a moment,” Elizabeth admitted.
Violet opened the oven door and drew out a cherry pie that looked as delicious as it smelled. She carried it over to the windowsill and sat it down in front of the open window to cool. “Do you think she really did it, or is she still covering up for her son?”
Elizabeth sighed. “I asked myself that question a dozen times on the way to the police station. There’s no question that Maurice loved Amelia in his own way. I’ve seen him with the creatures he’s cared for, and I really don’t think he has the temperament or the emotional strength to hurt someone he loved. Then again, I could well be wrong. I suppose it’s up to the jury to decide.”
“Well, all I can say is, I don’t envy them their job.”
Elizabeth met her gaze. “And neither do I.”
Later that evening, unusually restless, Elizabeth decided to take a short walk around the grounds to clear her head. Soon it would be too cold for her nightly strolls, which had become rather rare of late. Before her marriage she had often joined her parents on their nightly habit of walking the grounds, but now that she was alone she didn’t care to be out there after dark.
There were just a few days left now before the daylight savings time ended, and already the dusk had darkened into night shadows among the trees. Her mind dwelling heavily on the tragedy she had seen unfold, she started violently when a shadow detached itself from a thick grove of beech trees and moved toward her.
For an instant her heart stopped beating then resumed at a rapid pace when she recognized the chunky frame of Major Earl Monroe. She hadn’t seen him since that ridiculous moment when she’d blurted out her permission for him to call her Lizzie. She didn’t quite know how to face him now. She could only pray she hadn’t given anything away in her foolishness.
To her relief, he greeted her as he always did, with just the right amount of respect in his voice. “Evening, ma’am. Mind if I join you for a minute or two?”
Adversely, and quite ridiculously, she was shattered that he hadn’t used her pet name after all. “Good evening, Major. I wasn’t expecting to see you out here. How’s the leg?”
Moonlight spilled across the lawn, illuminating his handsome face. Behind him the Manor House rose dark and still, its windows hidden by the blackout blinds. As she waited for him to answer, somewhere deep in the woods she heard an owl hoot a warning.
“It’s doing a lot better, thanks.” He moved closer, and she noticed his limp was less pronounced tonight.
“I’m glad. And the others?”
“All recovering nicely.”
“I’m happy to hear it.” Her heartbeat slowed in disappointment. They were talking to each other like strangers. What had happened to the easy companionship she had so enjoyed in recent weeks? Had she spoiled everything by that ridiculous outburst last night? Her heart ached with regret.
He continued to watch her as if expecting her to say something else. She cast about for a topic and came up with the one uppermost in her mind. “I don’t know if you heard, but we have discovered who killed Amelia Brunswick.”
He nodded. “The farmer’s wife. I heard.”
“Ah.”
“I also heard you were responsible for her being arrested.”
She shrugged. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“And what’s this I hear about you fighting off a horde of angry housewives to save the German kid from being lynched?”
She had to smile at that. “This isn’t the Wild West, Major. Rita and her ladies were merely doing what they thought was their duty. I simply appealed to their better judgement.”
His gaze remained watchful on her face. A sudden breeze lifted a lock of his hair and drifted it across his forehead. He seemed not to notice. “Are you always this modest?”
She didn’t know how to answer that. While she was still searching for something sensible to say, he took her breath away with his next words.
“I got the impression that you kind of regretted asking me to call you Lizzie last night. I just want you to know that I won’t be offended if you want to take it back.” He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “I can’t pretend to understand all this protocol stuff over here, but I know enough to want not to tread on anyone’s toes.”
She had to swallow at least three times before she could answer him. “Major… I mean, Earl, I want you to understand something. I know I’ve told you most of this before, but it bears repeating. As you know, there have been generations of Lord Hartleighs overseeing the village of Sitting Marsh. When my parents died two years ago, for the very first time the villagers’ guardian had become a woman. As I’ve already told you, I had to work very hard to gain the trust and respect of my tenants. I had to prove myself over and over again. I’m still proving myself. I can never let down my guard for a moment, because there are still some people who consider this job too important to be entrusted to a woman.”
“From what I’ve heard, the people of Sitting Marsh worship the ground you walk on. I’ve heard some of them defend you when one of my guys questions your position in the village. They can’t say enough good things about you.”
In spite of herself, Elizabeth glowed with the praise. “Well, that’s very gratifying, but I must never forget to uphold the traditions and the principles that have been set by my family over the years. My mother was an outsider, and they never let her forget it. The fact that they accept her daughter at all is a miracle. No matter what my personal beliefs or needs might entail, I will always, always put my people first.”
He nodded, looking grave. “In other words, no Lizzie.”
She hesitated for a long moment. “Perhaps you’d settle for just Elizabeth, as long as it’s strictly between us, of course?”
“If you’ll agree to call me Earl. As long as it’s strictly between us, of course.”
He’d mimicked her British accent with his last words, and she laughed. In her best American accent, she drawled, “Earl, you gotta deal.”
He held out his hand. “Is it permissible to shake the hand of a lady of the manor?”
“Well, in the old days we were more used to our hands being kissed, but I’ll settle for a handshake.”
She clasped his hand and was enchanted when he raised it to his lips. It would be morning, she vowed, before she washed that hand again.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said when
he let her hand go. “It’s in my room. How about I go get it and meet you in the library in, say, ten minutes?”
Intrigued, she nodded. “Ten minutes.”
She walked with him back to the house, where he left her to go in through the back door leading to the east wing. She entered by the front door and made her way to the library, where she waited in a fever of curiosity as to what the surprise might be.
When he finally entered the room, he was carrying a large basket. She watched in astonishment as he laid the wicker container on the floor then opened the lid.
The gasp that left her lips was both shock and delight when two furry heads popped up and gazed at her with sleepy brown eyes. With a cry she dropped on her knees beside them. “Oh, they are so beautiful. Where did you get them?”
“One of the guys on base was talking about his girlfriend trying to get rid of some pups. I remembered you said you were thinking about getting a couple of dogs. I took a look at them and decided you all belonged together.”
She laughed as the puppies spilled out of the basket and started exploring. “Just look at their feet-they’re huge! What kind of dogs are they?”
“Best we can tell, they’re a bloodhound mix.” He looked worried. “I just brought them for you to take a look. If you don’t want them I’ll take them right back.”
She watched the two roly-poly, cumbersome puppies stumbling over each other in their eagerness to sniff around the potted palm in the corner. The words that came immediately to mind were double trouble. Life would become a little more complicated with these new arrivals in the household. Earl had given them to her, however, and nothing on this earth could tear them away from her. “We’ll have to come up with some good names for them.”
“How about George and Gracie?”
She raised her eyebrows at him.
“It’s from a television show back in the states-‘Burns and Allen.’ George and Gracie are the stars.”
She smiled at him. “I like that. George and Gracie it is.”
“Good choice.” He smiled back, and her happiness was complete.
Kate Kingsbury
***
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