Berried Alive (Manor House Mystery) (14 page)

He sighed. "Forgotten so soon. I guess I overestimated my importance."

He'd made it sound as if he were teasing, but she sensed there was genuine disappointment behind his words. If he only knew how much she longed to forget who she was, who he was. Who knew how much more time they might have together? Would it really be so wrong to snatch what little happiness they could in these dreadful days of uncertainty and peril?

She'd had these moments before, when her hopeless love for him had almost outweighed her common sense. She'd overcome the temptations then as she had done so a moment ago, but how long . . . oh, how long could she go on denying herself what she wanted so desperately?

She stepped toward him, bringing them closer once more. "I hope you know," she said unsteadily, "that you are intensely important to me. In every way."

The sad expression in his eyes broke her heart. "I know that you're a strong woman, Elizabeth, with values and morals far beyond anyone I've ever met before. I admire you for that, yet at the same time, I wish it could be different."

Her voice trembled as she answered him. "So do I, Earl. Oh, so do I."

He gave her a wry smile that was more shattering than anything he could have said. "I look forward to our dinner tomorrow night." He reached for her hand and held it in his warm grasp.

"Take good care of yourself," she murmured.

"I'll be back. That's a promise." He squeezed her hand gently and let her go.

Before she could say anymore, he was gone.

Martin seemed particularly agitated that evening when he arrived for supper. Violet had managed to find fish roes, and was serving them on toast with fried tomatoes and mushrooms, accompanied by thick crusty bread and margarine.

The delicious smell of the fried food had wafted up to the library, where Elizabeth and Polly were finishing off the rent notices. Elizabeth could tell that Polly was anxious to go home, no doubt having her appetite stimulated by the smell of fried fish, and it was a relief to get the final rent notice in its envelope ready to put in the post the next morning.

Martin was already in the kitchen when Elizabeth entered, hovering around the kitchen table as if searching for something.

Violet stood at the stove, flipping fish roes around in a large frying pan. Sadie hadn't arrived, as yet. Elizabeth was rather anxious to find out how things had gone between her and Lieutenant Hanson.

She sat down at the table and looked at Martin, who was still fidgeting around. "Are you looking for something?" she asked at last.

Martin looked flustered. "I beg your pardon, madam. I was just wondering if you had any of that scented soap left."

Elizabeth scanned the table, but the box of soap seemed to have disappeared. "Well, I did, but I don't know what happened to it."

"I put it in the pantry," Violet said, still with her back to them. A loud sizzling accompanied her words as she dropped two halves of a tomato into the pan. "Out of harm's way, so to speak."

Martin slowly twisted around until he faced her. "If you
are inferring that I might steal the soap, I'd like to inform you that madam offered to replace the packages of soap I gave away today."

"He's right, Violet," Elizabeth said, smiling at Martin. "He gave out two packages of soap and I promised I'd replace them."

"Three," Martin said, holding up three fingers.

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. "Three?"

"Yes, madam. Just a little while ago." Another lady came to the door asking for soap."

Elizabeth frowned. "But I thought the scavenger hunt was over this afternoon. Didn't Marjorie Gunther say she would be disqualified if she didn't get back to the tearoom right away. That was about half past two, surely?"

"Yes, madam. But this lady wasn't collecting for the scrounger hunt."

"Scavenger, Martin."

"Yes, madam."

"Then why did she want the soap?"

"She said it was for her granddaughter. She's living in London, I believe. The granddaughter, not the grandmother. Sadie was in the hallway talking rather loudly to one of those American soldiers at the time, so I couldn't hear everything she said."

Violet clicked her tongue in disgust. "What do they think we are? A blinking charity house? Got a blinking nerve, if you ask me. Coming up here begging for free stuff."

Elizabeth was inclined to agree. "Martin, I think we should tell anyone else who might ask for soap that we have no more. Otherwise we could have the entire village lining up at the door."

"Yes, madam." He began shuffling over to the pantry. "I
only gave it to Mrs. Parsons because she said she was so lonely without her granddaughter."

"Parsons?" Elizabeth frowned. "Do I know her?"

"She's one of Rita's Housewives League members," Violet said, sliding the fried tomatoes onto a plate. "Maisie Parsons. She's the one who makes the gingerbread. Won't tell us how she does it, though. Keeps that a secret. As if I care."

Martin, who was almost at the pantry door, paused. "She gave me some of it," he said.

Violet gave him a scathing glance. "Gave you what?"

"Some of her gingerbread." He resumed shuffling. "I'd give you some, but since you don't care for it, I'll keep it for myself." Then he seemed to remember his manners. He turned so swiftly, he almost lost his balance, and had to clutch the doorjamb to remain on his feet. "I'll be happy to share it with you though, madam."

Elizabeth smiled. "Thank you, Martin, but I really don't care for gingerbread. I do appreciate the offer, however."

"Yes, well, you probably wouldn't like it." Once more he turned himself around and disappeared into the pantry.

Violet finished serving up the food and placed the plates on the kitchen table. "Gone to get his soap," she muttered. "Couldn't wait until after supper."

Elizabeth sat down at the table and eyed the fish roes without much enthusiasm. Her concern over Earl, and Sadie's risky appointment tomorrow had robbed her of her appetite.

She picked up her knife and fork, just as Martin wandered out of the pantry carrying three packets of soap.

Violet watched his painfully slow progress across the kitchen with a baleful eye. "I hope you didn't eat too much of that gingerbread and spoil your supper."

Martin gave her a disparaging glare. "I have not touched it. Mrs. Parsons wasn't too complimentary about her cooking, so I was in no great hurry to taste it."

Both Violet and Elizabeth stared at him in surprise.

"Maisie Parsons put down her own cooking?" Violet said, her eyebrows twitching up and down. "I don't believe it. She's proud of that gingerbread. Practically everyone in the village says how good Maisie's gingerbread is."

Martin shuffled over to the table. "May I have your permission to sit down, madam?"

Elizabeth beckoned at his chair. "Of course, Martin. Do sit."

"Thank you, madam."

Violet stood over him while he gradually lowered himself onto his seat. "I want to know what Maisie Parsons said about her gingerbread," she said, arms crossed, her head tilted to one side like an agitated sparrow.

Martin's descent ended in a rush as he dropped the last few inches. He shot a resentful look at Violet. "She said that her gingerbread was moldy and should be disposed off as soon as possible. Or words to that effect."

Violet shook her head and turned back to the stove. "Barmy. Blinking barmy, that's what he is."

Elizabeth wasn't paying her much attention. She was too busy thinking about Earl, and praying that he would return safely that night. Her world would be shattered all too soon by his inevitable departure. She could only hope it wouldn't be just yet.

She slept fitfully that night, her ears trained for the sound of the returning Jeeps. When she awoke to a gray dawn, her first thoughts were of Earl, and if he had returned safely.

There didn't seem to be any way to find out without sounding overly concerned about his well-being, and she had to content herself with the notion that had anything dreadful happened to him, she would surely have heard by now.

Breakfast started out as rather a quiet affair. Martin was in one of his silent moods, and Violet seemed preoccupied with making a shopping list, a task that had become increasingly daunting since the onset of rationing.

Elizabeth toyed with her oatmeal, until it dawned on her that she had not yet informed Violet that she had invited Earl to dinner. Perhaps she had been afraid of tempting fate. Even now, she was reluctant to mention it, in the event that she had to cancel it for a reason she didn't want to think about.

Engrossed in her gloomy thoughts, she was startled when Sadie burst into the kitchen, singing at the top of her voice.

Martin immediately rose from the table, struggled over to the sink with his plate, cup and saucer, and placed them on the draining board. "I shall withdraw to attend to my duties, madam," he said, with a cold look at Sadie, who had plopped down at the table next to Violet with a cheery smile. "The kitchen is becoming entirely too crowded."

"Good morning, Marty, me old codswaller," Sadie sang out. "How's your mother off for dripping, then?"

Martin sniffed. "I'll thank you not to use that disgusting cockney vernacular in the presence of her ladyship."

Sadie shot a wary look at Elizabeth as Martin departed at a his usual snail's pace. "Sorry, m'm. Didn't mean no disrespect."

"Quite all right, Sadie," Elizabeth murmured. She was
engrossed at the moment, trying to think of a way to ask Sadie if she knew if their American guests had returned—one in particular—without arousing unwanted speculation from her staff.

"No, it's not all right," Violet said crossly. "How many times do I have to tell you, Sadie, to speak properly while you are in this house."

"I am speaking properly. Ere, guess who I saw the other day." She nudged Violet's shoulder with her elbow, earning a scathing glance from the housekeeper.

"I haven't the slightest idea, but if you poke me again like that you won't be seeing anyone else for quite a while."

Apparently unimpressed by this threat, Sadie grinned. "Winston Churchill, that's who."

Violet looked up. "Winston Churchill? Where?"

"On the cliffs, that's where. Walking along, he was, just minding his own business."

"You saw our prime minister walking along the cliffs in Sitting Marsh," Violet repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, I did." Sadie nodded emphatically at Elizabeth, who was following the conversation without really taking it in. "I said hello to him."

"And he answered?"

"Not exactly. He sort of touched the brim of his bowler and nodded, then went on walking."

Violet stared at her for a moment longer and then said firmly, "That imagination of yours will get you into trouble one day, my girl. You mark my words."

"I didn't imagine it. I really saw him." Sadie's voice rose in indignation. "Why won't anyone believe me?" She appealed to Elizabeth. "You believe me, m'm, don't you?"

Elizabeth made an effort to concentrate. "The prime
minister? I doubt if he'd visit Sitting Marsh without a great deal of pomp and ceremony. He's a very important man."

Sadie's face registered frustration. "But—"

"That's enough, Sadie!" Violet pounded the table with her fist, making Elizabeth jump. "Enough of your nonsense. Surely you can find something more important to do than torment us with your wild stories? There's oatmeal on the stove. Dish up a plate for yourself and eat your breakfast. It's getting late and you have work to do."

Sadie leaned over her shoulder. "Want me to make a fresh pot of tea, luv?"

The housekeeper pressed her pencil so hard on the sheet of paper in front of her the lead snapped. "I don't know what the world is coming to. It's all the fault of these Americans, that's what it is. Teaching our young girls to disrespect their elders."

Elizabeth bit her tongue. She was not about to get in an argument with her housekeeper in front of Sadie.

"All right, Violet, then." Sadie got up from the table and grabbed a large copper kettle and began filling it with water. "It's just that I'm in a good mood, that's all. The boys all came back safely last night. Or I should say early this morning." She carried the kettle over to the stove, and gave Elizabeth a sly look on the way. "Including the major. I saw them come in."

Elizabeth let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. He was safe. Once more she could look forward to seeing him. She'd been given another reprieve.

CHAPTER

10

Violet snapped her head up. "What were you doing up in the middle of the night, Sadie Buttons?"

"I couldn't sleep, could I." Sadie lit the gas jet under the kettle. "I opened me window for a breath of fresh air and saw the Yanks walking in from the courtyard."

Elizabeth seized the opportunity. "Oh, Violet, speaking of the major, I've invited him to supper tonight. I hope that won't present a problem?"

Violet wore a disapproving frown when she muttered, "No, of course not. I've still got some coupons left. I'll see what the butcher's got."

Much as Violet liked Earl, Elizabeth was well aware that her housekeeper found it impossible to condone his relationship with her employer, largely due to her concern
that Elizabeth would get her heart broken again. Once was enough in Violet's considered opinion.

In hers, too, Elizabeth thought, but that didn't seem to dampen her feelings for Earl. "I thought you might bake a steak and kidney pie," she suggested. "That shouldn't take up too many coupons and you make such delicious pastry."

Sadie swung around. "Begging your pardon, m'm, but not many of the Yanks like kidney. Alfie had to throw all his pies out because none of the Yanks would touch 'em."

"Oh." Elizabeth exchanged glances with Violet. "Well, in that case, perhaps steak and mushroom?"

To her great relief, Violet nodded. "Just leave it to me," she said. "I'll find something the major will like."

Filled with elation now that her immediate worry was over, Elizabeth rose to her feet. "I shall be in the office this morning if anyone needs me." She looked meaningfully at Sadie, who had been watching her out of the corner of her eye. "I'd like a word with you before you leave this evening."