Well pleased with herself, Elizabeth beamed at everyone. “That’s settled, then. We’ll do it.”
“When shall we have it?” Wally asked. “I’ll need to rehearse a bit.”
“As soon as possible.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “This Saturday.”
A chorus of dismay met her words.
“That’s only two days away!”
“We can’t get everything done by then!”
“That’s impossible!”
This last was from Deirdre. Bessie, Elizabeth noted, said nothing, though her smile had faltered.
“Nothing is impossible if we put our minds to it.” Elizabeth straightened her back. “This is a war effort to improve relationships between the allies. It has top priority over everything else. If we all work together we can get it done.”
“Well,” Deirdre said, “it might be an idea if Rita Crumm and her cohorts stop looking for Nazis and give us a hand. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
Well satisfied, Elizabeth nodded. “I intend to do just that. This dance will be just the thing to take their minds off that German pilot.”
“I imagine you will be there to greet everyone at the door, Lady Elizabeth?”
“Of course I’ll be there.”
“You’ll be bringing your American officers, then?” Wally asked, puffing furiously on his pipe. “Might be a good idea. They can keep their chaps from getting out of hand.”
“Who’s going to keep our lads from getting out of hand?” Percy demanded.
All four pairs of eyes turned in Elizabeth’s direction. She gave them all a weak smile. Violet’s words echoed in her head. All she could hope was that they were not prophetic and that she wasn’t taking on more trouble than she could handle.
CHAPTER10
When Elizabeth arrived at the Macclesby farm a few minutes later, it was to confront utter chaos. Pigs ran around loose in the yard, chased by red-faced soldiers carrying rifles, while a female voice, unmistakably belonging to Rita Crumm, could be heard from the cornfields screeching curses at the top of her lungs. George stood on the bottom rung of a gate, hollering orders that no one seemed to hear, let alone obey.
Elizabeth saw Pauline over by the cowshed, arguing with an army officer, and in the distance a group of women brandishing what she fervently hoped weren’t carving knives advanced in a solid line upon the only haystack that appeared to be intact. The rest were torn apart and scattered to the winds.
As she crossed the yard to the house, the unpleasant smell of burning wool caught her attention. A thin column of smoke arose from behind the farmhouse, and she hurried back there to investigate, half afraid that Rita in her enthusiasm had set fire to the barn.
Much to her relief, the smoke drifted from a smoldering bonfire. She was about to turn away when she caught sight of something glinting in the afternoon sunshine. Sparks sprayed from the ashes when she poked them with her shoe, and she saw the sunlight glance off several small pieces of metal. After a few more nudges at them with her foot, she managed to separate them from the embers.
While she waited for them to cool down, she crouched down to examine the pieces more closely. They were round, brass buttons, embossed with some kind of emblem. She waited a moment longer, then picked up the still- warm buttons and slipped them into the pocket of her cardigan.
Frowning, she straightened. Why would Sheila burn clothes, when the village was in the middle of a huge clothing drive for the victims bombed out of their homes? There was only one way to find out, and that was to ask her.
As she rounded the house, Elizabeth caught sight of Pauline striding across the yard with a bucket in her hand. She hailed the young woman, who paused, obviously irritated by this further interruption.
“Good afternoon, m’m,” she mumbled, when Elizabeth approached.
“Pauline, I was wondering about that bonfire at the back of the house,” Elizabeth said, coming straight to the point. “I couldn’t help noticing that some clothes had been burned. Do you know anything about that?”
Pauline’s face seemed to close up. “Yes, m’m. I was the one what lit it, wasn’t I. Mrs. Macclesby gave me some old sacks to burn, but there weren’t no clothes on there. Not that I put there, anyhow.”
Elizabeth took the buttons from her pocket and held them out on her palm. “Then how do you think these got into the fire?”
Pauline stared at the buttons for several seconds. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “They could have been there already when I set light to the sacks. We burn a lot of stuff on that bit of ground.”
“But you didn’t notice them there when you put the sacks on the ground?”
Pauline looked her straight in the eye. “No, m’m. I didn’t.”
Satisfied, Elizabeth nodded. “Well, thank you, Pauline. I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Thank you, m’m. Though I don’t know what work’ll get done with all these army blokes running around here. Anyone can see that German ain’t here. That’s the army for you, always wasting someone’s time.” She stomped off, leaving Elizabeth to wonder if the girl’s bitterness toward the military stemmed more from the loss of her boyfriend than the unwarranted interruption of her day.
Sheila opened the door to Elizabeth’s summons a minute or two later, though barely more than a crack. When she recognized her visitor, however, she widened the gap and urged Elizabeth inside. “So good of you to come, Lady Elizabeth,” she said, as she slammed the door shut, “though I don’t really know what you can do about all this. The P.C.s have been out there for an hour trying to get rid of everyone.”
Elizabeth gave her a sympathetic smile. “Well, perhaps I can at least talk to Rita. I have some news to give her anyway.”
Sheila looked concerned. “Her Bert’s all right, isn’t he?”
“Yes, as far as I know.” Elizabeth seated herself on the couch. “Don’t worry, this is good news. We are holding a dance on Saturday at the town hall. I’m hoping Rita and her group of ladies will be able to help us.”
“A dance?” Sheila’s face brightened just a little. “What sort of dance?”
“Well, we’ll be playing records-band music, of course-and we’ll have drinks and refreshments. We’re inviting the British soldiers as well as the Americans.”
“Taking a bit of a chance there, your ladyship. Our boys don’t get on with the Yanks too well.”
“That’s just the point. We want to create an environment where both sides can get to know each other and appreciate each other’s point of view.”
Sheila still looked doubtful. “And you’re sure that can happen at a dance where there’s drinking and girls?”
Elizabeth felt a stab of apprehension. Now that she really thought about it, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all. In the next instant she chided herself. She couldn’t let a few niggling doubts get in the way. The die was cast now, and she would see it through to the bitter end. Never say die; that was the Hartleigh motto. Those words had given her ancestors courage and conviction through wars and battles in the past, and it would get her through whatever lay ahead.
Remembering the buttons, she pulled them from her pocket. “I found these lying near the bonfire around the back of the house,” she said, holding them out for Sheila’s inspection. “I was wondering if they belonged to the clothes you burned on the bonfire.”
Sheila looked startled. “Clothes? I haven’t burned any clothes. I gave Pauline some old sacks to burn, but there weren’t any clothes. I give all our old clothes to the village clothing drive.”
“Ah, that was what I wanted to mention,” Elizabeth said hurriedly. “I didn’t know if you were aware of the drive.”
“Everyone knows about it, m’m. There are notices all over the town.” Sheila glanced at the clock. “I’m so sorry, Lady Elizabeth. You’ve been here for ten minutes, and I haven’t even offered you some tea. Would you like a cup?”
“That’s very kind of you,” Elizabeth said, rising to her feet, “but I think I’ll get out there and talk to Rita before her ladies do any more damage to your haystacks.”
