CHAPTER6
By that evening Elizabeth’s stomach was so full of butterflies she was quite certain she’d never be able to force down a bite of food. Which would be a great shame, since the aromas wafting from the warm kitchen were enough to make a statue’s mouth water.
Making sure she was at least ten minutes late, Elizabeth finally left the sanctuary of her bedroom and proceeded down the main staircase to the dining room.
Martin hovered at the foot of the staircase, in his usual state of flustered anxiety. “Madam,” he whispered hoarsely as soon as she came within earshot, “there’s one of those confounded Americans sitting in the dining room. The master is not going to like this at all. Not at all, madam. The blighter had the nerve to tell me he was invited. What utter rot! Just say the word, and I will remove him at once.”
Elizabeth hid a smile at the thought of Martin attempting to forcefully remove the rugged major. “It’s quite all right, Martin. I invited the major to dinner myself. Didn’t Violet tell you?”
Martin looked aghast. “Violet merely mentioned that you were expecting a guest. She failed to mention that you were entertaining an
He’d said “American” as if he were referring to some obnoxious beetle. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “The major is a guest in our home, Martin. I trust you will treat him as such?”
Instantly transformed by her tone, Martin stiffened. “As you wish, madam. I feel obligated to point out, however, that the master has not given his permission for such an escapade, and I am quite sure that he will be as appalled as I am when he is made aware of it. We are only trying to protect you, madam.”
Elizabeth patted Martin’s arm. “Thank you, Martin. I appreciate your concern. And in case you might have forgotten, the master is no longer with us. He and my mother have been gone for two years.”
Martin nodded. “Gone and returned, madam. As you no doubt will discover for yourself before too long.”
Elizabeth frowned. Martin often had lapses of memory and frequent bouts of mind-wandering, but they rarely lasted more than a few minutes or so. His continued insistence on seeing her father’s ghost was disturbing. It was something she would have to worry about later, she decided. Right now she had something much more tangible to worry about.
She had selected a calf-length cream frock in raw silk to wear and had draped a sky-blue scarf around her shoulders to soften the neckline. She really didn’t care for the shoulder pads, which tended to make her look top- heavy, but it seemed that all the clothes came with them these days. Her mother’s gold and pearl earrings and matching pendant completed the attire, and she felt confident she looked her best.
Even so, she felt like a gawky schoolgirl when Martin pompously announced her arrival in the dining room with just an underlying hint of disapproval.
Major Earl Monroe was seated at the foot of the table. He rose to his feet as she walked into the elegant room, and she found his unabashed expression of appreciation even more unsettling.
She murmured her apologies while he pulled back her chair. “I’m terribly sorry for keeping you waiting, Major.”
He eased the chair in as she sat down, then returned the length of the table to his own seat. “No need to apologize, Lady Elizabeth. I’ve been enjoying an excellent Scotch while I studied the contents of this room. You have some great antiques on these walls. Fascinating stuff.”
She smiled. “Thank you. Some of them have been in the family for generations.”
“Like the portraits upstairs. What about that whalebone over there? What’s the story behind that?”
Thankful to have an opening subject to break the ice, she launched into the story of her great-great-uncle’s adventures aboard a sailboat in the Pacific islands.
Violet interrupted a few minutes later to announce the menu; celery soup, roast beef, and Yorkshire pudding, followed by a sherry trifle. “I’ll be serving the first course in a moment or two,” she declared. “Meanwhile, can I offer you a glass of champagne?”
Elizabeth widened her eyes in surprise. “That would be very nice, Violet.” Wondering how on earth her housekeeper had acquired champagne, she added, “You remember Major Monroe, Violet? I’m sure you remember my housekeeper, Major?”
“We bumped into each other in the kitchen just now.” He exchanged a look with Violet that was purely conspiratorial, and she preened like a mating peacock.
“The major was kind enough to bring us a bottle or two. That’s where the champagne came from.” A flush spread over her cheeks, and she patted her frizzy hair. “He brought whiskey as well.”
Put out by the housekeeper’s defiance of her wishes, Elizabeth said tartly, “You may serve the champagne, Violet.”
Violet’s expression was unrepentant. “I’ll send Martin in,” she said and scuttled back to the kitchen.
“I hope I didn’t break any of your customs by taking the bottles to the kitchen.”
Elizabeth stared down the table at him. Separated by three ornate silver candelabra, two huge bowls of white daisies, and a cornucopia filled with ripe apples from the orchard, she felt less intimidated by him than during their earlier encounters. Even so, she felt the impact of his gaze as she murmured, “Not at all, Major. I’m sure Violet was most appreciative.”
He chuckled. “She gave me a hug. Nice lady. Reminds me of an aunt of mine back home.”
Elizabeth felt a pang of envy and quickly suppressed it. She had no desire to hug the major. If Violet wanted to make a fool of herself that was her affair. “Violet has been with the family a very long time. I value her as a friend and as a surrogate member of my family. She was a great source of comfort to me after the death of my parents.”
Violet chose that moment to return with the champagne. She fluttered around Earl as if he were a long-lost son, Elizabeth noticed, with a faint pang of resentment. It was obvious the major had won over Violet with his undeniable charm. All the more reason for her to remain on guard as far as her own attitude toward the handsome American. It wouldn’t do for everyone to fall under his spell.
She was beginning to understand now the attraction these men held in the village. Much more debonair and infinitely more glamourous than their British stiff-upper-lip counterparts, they added the spice of adventure to a very bleak environment for the women of Sitting Marsh. Forced to manage without their menfolk, struggling to feed and clothe their families on the meager rations allowed them, faced with uncertain futures at best, no wonder they welcomed such exciting and alluring newcomers with open arms.
They would all do well to heed Violet’s warnings. She had spoken the truth when she’d said that many hearts were broken in wartime. The understandable urge to live for the moment was a powerful aphrodisiac. Under such circumstances, even the most level-headed person could well stray from the straight and narrow path.
“Why the glum look? You don’t like the champagne?”
Startled out of her thoughts, she quickly lifted her glass. Bubbles danced before her eyes as she murmured, “To your good health, Major Monroe.”
Instead of answering her, he rose from his chair. “Can I ask a favor?”
Wary now, she put down the glass. “Of course.”
“Do I have to sit at the end of this table? I feel like I’m trying to talk to you from the opposite end of a jungle.”
She hesitated, torn between fear of losing her security and the very strong desire to have him sit closer. In the end, desire won. She waved a hand at the chair to her right. “Please, make yourself at home.”
He grinned, unsettling her even further as he sat down in the chair she’d indicated. “That’s better. Now I can hear you and see you. I was beginning to get lonely down there.”
Matching his light tone, she murmured, “Well, we can’t have that, can we. I wouldn’t want it spread about that the Hartleighs were inhospitable.”
“I thought there was only one Hartleigh now.”
She smiled. “Only one in residence. I have uncles, aunts, and various cousins scattered around the world. Most of them live abroad.”
“What happened to your parents?”
