Wedding Rows

mind. “I’m supposed to be investigating a murder.”

Earl’s voice sounded strange when he answered. “Elizabeth, you have the darndest knack for deflating a man’s ego.”

Appalled at her insensitivity, she stared up at him. “Oh, Earl, I didn’t mean…”

His chuckle both surprised and relieved her. “It’s all right. You’re being sensible and practical and all the things I’m supposed to be and can’t be right now. And you’re right. This isn’t a good idea. I guess we just got caught up in the moment.”

For some reason, his words disheartened her. “It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it,” she murmured. “Quite the opposite, in fact. It’s just that-”

Gently he laid a finger on her lips. “I know. You don’t have to explain. There’ll be a right time for us. We just have to be patient, that’s all.”

Her smile was an effort. “Sometimes it’s hard.”

“Tell me about it.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers. “Come on, let’s corral George and Gracie and give them a ride back to the manor. They love to ride in the Jeep.”

Sad that her short, blissful time with him was ending so rapidly, she watched him whistle to the dogs. They came at once and, tails wagging, followed him back to the Jeep. She trailed behind them, committing to memory the picture of man and dogs, happy and carefree in each other’s company. It would be all she had while he was away.

Arriving back at the manor, he pulled up in the courtyard and turned to her. The dogs leapt from the Jeep and disappeared around the corner of the ancient building. “I guess this is good-bye for a while,” he said, smiling down at her.

It was hard to smile back. “You take care of yourself,” she said, striving to keep her tone light.

“You, too.” His grin faded. “Stay out of harm’s way, Elizabeth. I won’t always be around to help out.”

“I know.” She grasped his hand in both of hers. “Don’t worry about me, Earl. I promise I won’t do anything foolish. Just concentrate on coming safely back to me.”

“You’ve got a deal.” He touched her cheek with his free hand. “So long, sweetheart.”

She caught her breath. It was the first time he’d used the endearment. It was something else to cling to in the dark hours ahead. She could not say good-bye. It was too final. She’d never been able to say it to him. Even when she’d thought he was leaving her life forever. “Until we meet again,” she said, adding inwardly, my love.

Instead of waiting for him to help her down from the Jeep, she scrambled out on her own. The last she heard of him was the roar of his engine as he drove off to the back of the manor.

Rather than wait the eternity it took Martin to open the front door for her, she made her way through the greenhouses to the kitchen door. Violet was putting dishes away when she entered and looked up in surprise.

“I thought you were taking the dogs for a walk,” she said, sliding the last dinner plate onto the pile in the cupboard.

“I was.” Elizabeth glanced at the clock. “I have to get down to the village hall now. Bessie is going back there this afternoon to finish cleaning up and I want to talk to her.”

Violet peered at her over her shoulder. “About the murder?”

“We don’t know if it’s a murder yet,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“From what I understand, some poor bugger was lying dead on the floor with a knife in his chest. I daresay he didn’t put it there himself.”

“It could have been an accident. He could have fallen with the knife in his hand.”

Violet turned all the way around. “And what would he be doing in the cellar with a knife in the first place?”

Elizabeth smiled. “Don’t worry, Violet. I’ll find out what happened. I usually do.”

“That’s what worries me. You always seem to end up in trouble yourself when you start going around asking questions like that.”

“With so many people worrying about me,” Elizabeth said, as she headed for the door, “how can I possibly get into trouble?” She closed the door behind her, before Violet could answer.

A few minutes later she halted her motorcycle in front of the village hall, just as Bessie emerged carrying a huge box. By the way she staggered as she reached the gate, Elizabeth could tell the poor woman’s load was too heavy for her.

Elizabeth climbed off her motorcycle with as much haste as decorum allowed and hurried to help Bessie squeeze through the gate.

“Thank you, your ladyship,” Bessie said, panting with exertion. “I thought I was going to drop it. Really I did.”

“I do hope you’re not expecting to carry this all the way back to the Bake Shop.” Elizabeth grasped one edge of the box.

“Well, I was going to try.” Bessie looked doubtfully at the motorcycle. “I carried it down here.”

“But it’s uphill all the way back.” Elizabeth shifted the weight of the box against her hip. “What’s in here, anyway?”

“China. The ladies from the Housewives League brought glasses and plates, and I brought the cups and saucers from the tea shop.”

“Oh, my.” Elizabeth wavered, then said cautiously, “I could run them up in the sidecar of my motorcycle, if you like.”

Bessie’s face shone with relief. “Oh, would you? Thank you, m’m. I’d be ever so grateful, really I would. I still have to pack up the linens and the cutlery.”

“Right. Let’s get this in… here.” Elizabeth delivered the last word on a groan as they heaved the box into the tiny sidecar. “It only just fits,” she said, as she wiggled the box to make sure it was secure.

“Thank you, m’m. I’ll get back inside and finish clearing up. Some of the ladies came to help me and I don’t want to leave them working on their own.”

Elizabeth climbed aboard the motorcycle, kicked the engine to life, and tucked her pleated skirt securely under her knees. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said, shouting over the roar of her engine. “I’d like a word with you before you leave.”

Bessie nodded, waved her hand, and scurried back to the hall.

Mindful of her precious cargo, Elizabeth rode cautiously up the hill to the High Street. Housewives loaded down with heavy shopping bags waved to her as she passed, and she nodded in response, too anxious to raise a hand from the handlebars. It was with a sigh of relief that she finally braked to a halt in front of Bessie’s Bake Shop.

Two of Bessie’s assistants rushed out to help her unload the cumbersome box and wrestle it into the shop. The heavenly aroma of freshly baked bread and buns was almost irresistible, but anxious to talk to Bessie before she left the hall, Elizabeth reluctantly returned to her motorcycle.

To her surprise, she saw George and his long-suffering partner Sid hovering around the vehicle when she emerged onto the street. The two constables were deep in conversation, which they broke off the minute Elizabeth arrived within earshot.

They greeted her in unison, and just a little too hastily. She knew at once they had been talking about her. “Am I parked in the wrong place?” she asked, knowing perfectly well that unlike North Horsham, there were no restrictions in the High Street in Sitting Marsh.

“No, no, your ladyship,” Sid hastened to assure her. “It was just that me and George-”

“Were discussing the weather,” George interrupted loudly.

Sid sent him a puzzled look. “No, we weren’t. You were saying as how-”

“Don’t you have something urgent to do at the station?” George said, glowering at Sid.

Sid raised his eyebrows. “It’s Sunday,” he said, his voice rising in protest.

“Ho, ho,” George said, sounding a little like a bored Father Christmas. “A policeman’s work is never done, isn’t that right, your ladyship?”

“Quite,” Elizabeth murmured. She knew quite well it was only a matter of time before Sid blurted out what George was trying so hard to keep quiet. “I admire dedicated men such as you two. Always on duty. Makes one feel so terribly secure.”

George eyed her warily, while Sid beamed. “That’s so nice of you to say, Lady Elizabeth. I was just saying to