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, while 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
“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-”
