would happen. I could see it coming a mile off.”
She turned to face Elizabeth, the dripping knife held in her hand. “We have to get him out of the house. We have to put him in an asylum. We’ve got two young ladies to worry about. We can’t have a demented old fool going around stealing their unmentionables. God knows what he’d get into next. I hate to think, honest I do.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Calm down, Violet. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good-”
She broke off as the door swung open and Martin appeared in the doorway. He took two steps into the kitchen, stopped, clutched his heart, and uttered an ear-piercing scream.
Elizabeth jumped, while Violet waved the knife at her. “See? What did I tell you? He’s gone off his blinking rocker.”
Martin stared at Violet with something akin to horror on his face, one hand still clutching his chest, his mouth opening and shutting with, mercifully, no more sound coming out of it.
Still shaken by the awful shriek, Elizabeth leapt to her feet. “It’s his heart,” she cried, rushing toward him. “He’s having a heart attack.”
Martin’s faded blue eyes focused on her, and he shook his head. One trembling hand pointed at Violet. He whispered something, then coughed, and finally got some coherent words out. “Violet, madam. She’s bleeding all over the floor.”
“What?” Elizabeth spun around to look at her housekeeper.
Violet stood quite still, a dumbfounded expression on her face.
Elizabeth let out her breath in a puff of relief. “That’s not blood, Martin,” she said, feeling a desperate urge to laugh. “It’s beetroot juice. Look, Violet’s cutting up beetroot.”
“Oh, my God.” Martin staggered over to his chair and leaned on the back of it, apparently too spent to make the effort to sit down. “I thought she’d cut off one of her blasted fingers.”
“You silly old fool!” Violet brandished the knife at him, making Elizabeth quite nervous. “What were you doing with my knickers in your room? Tell me that!”
Elizabeth uttered a soft groan. She’d rather thought that they would tread around the matter with some delicacy. Blurting it out like that was not likely to encourage Martin to enlighten them.
To her immense surprise, Martin raised his head and in a voice that had regained considerable strength declared, “If you are referring to that offensive flannel undergarment on my dresser, you might want to explain how it ended up at the end of the driveway, in full view of anyone passing by.”
It was Violet’s turn to look astonished. “At the end of the driveway?”
“That’s what I said.” Martin turned to Elizabeth. “May I have your permission to join you at the table, madam?”
Trying desperately to keep a straight face, Elizabeth said solemnly, “Of course you may, Martin. Please sit down.”
“Thank you, madam. I shall be honored.”
“What do you mean, at the end of the driveway?” Violet demanded. “How did my… unmentionables get there?”
“Well, I shouldn’t think they walked there all by themselves.” Martin’s bones creaked and cracked as he settled himself on his chair.
Violet looked at Elizabeth, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “I swear I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Maybe the dogs took them down there,” Elizabeth suggested.
“What, and unpinned them from the clothesline? Where’s the rest of them, then?” Violet gave Martin a sharp glare. “You don’t have any more hidden under your bed, by any chance?”
Martin looked offended. “Why, in heaven’s name, would I hide your undergarments under my bed? In any case, if I were to indulge in such juvenile behavior, I would undoubtedly choose something infinitely more attractive than those hideous baggy bloomers you wear.”
“Is that so?” Violet’s eyes blazed with anger. “Like Polly’s or Sadie’s unmentionables, for instance?”
“Violet-,” Elizabeth began, but Martin interrupted her.
“How dare you, madam!” He started to rise to his feet, struggled for a bit, then gave up and plopped back down. “I refuse to be insulted in this way.”
“How do you know what I wear, anyhow?” Violet brandished the knife a little too close to his face for Elizabeth’s comfort. “Have you been spying on me, you crazy old goat?”
“Your undergarments hang on the washing line in full view of everyone,” Martin declared. “I keep expecting them to take off in the wind. It’s really not surprising they ended up at the end of the driveway. With the wind in sails that large, I would expect them to reach China.”
Deciding it was time to intervene, Elizabeth said quickly, “Martin, just when and where did you find Violet’s underwear?”
Martin gave her a reproachful look. “As I’ve already indicated, madam. I found them at the end of the driveway. They were just lying there, like-”
“Quite. When was that?”
“When I returned to the manor this morning, madam.”
“Returned from where, Martin?”
She’d slipped the question in, hoping to catch him unawares. He was more alert than she’d anticipated. “I regret I’m not at liberty to say, madam.”
“I’m not trying to pry into your personal affairs, Martin-,” she began, but Violet interrupted.
“We have a right to know where you go, you old fool. We’re responsible for you. What if something happened to you? How would we know where to find you?”
“I’m quite sure someone would alert Madam,” Martin said, apparently unperturbed by Violet’s outburst. “In any case, I was in no danger, I can assure you of that.”
Giving up, Elizabeth shook her head at Violet, who seemed determined to pursue the matter. Martin would enlighten them when he was good and ready and not before. They just had to be patient, and trust that his assurances of his safety were valid.
“So you noticed the underwear on the driveway this morning?” she said, effectively silencing Violet.
“Yes, madam. I thought it prudent to pick them up, with some considerable distaste I might add, and return them to their owner. I visited my room first, and must have been distracted, since I forgot about them until now.” He turned a watery gaze on Violet. “Had I foreseen the fuss such a valiant gesture would create, I would have left the repulsive garment where it was.”
Elizabeth frowned. “But I left the manor before you returned, Martin. I didn’t see anything lying in the driveway.”
“Then it must have blown there after you left, madam.”
“All the way to the driveway?” Violet demanded. “They would have to fly clear over the manor to do that.”
“Unless,” Elizabeth said slowly, “they were not the ones stolen yesterday. Did you put a new line of washing out on the line this morning, Violet?”
“Well, yes, I did…” A look of alarm crossed Violet’s face. “Oh, no, don’t tell me-” She dropped the knife with a clatter on the table, spun around, and headed for the back door. “If they’re gone as well I won’t have any clean ones left.” She dragged open the door and rushed outside.
Elizabeth held her breath, until an agonized shriek told her the worst.
Violet burst back through the door, her frizzy gray hair standing on end.
Elizabeth puffed out her breath in exasperation. “It appears we have a thief on our hands. I shall have to let George know about this. Apart from the obvious inconvenience this person is causing, I don’t like the idea that a lawbreaker is making a habit of trespassing on our premises. This could be quite a nuisance.”
“I can’t understand how the thief gets in and out without Desmond noticing.” Violet waved her hands in agitation. “I know he’s not much of a gardener, but he has two perfectly good eyes.”
“I’ll have a word with him,” Elizabeth promised. “I’ll warn him to keep a lookout.”
“Might I suggest that if you’d let those abominable hounds of yours loose outside instead of mollycoddling them in the house all the time,” Martin observed, “perhaps we wouldn’t have to worry so much about trespassers.”
