Manor House 03 - For Whom Death Tolls (15 page)

"Not at all, Martin." She watched him with a worried frown as he eased down onto his chair. This would not be a good day for Martin to have one of his bouts of confusion. Violet and Polly would need all the help they could get to keep things in order as it was.

She waited for him to settle himself, then said gently,
"You do know that we are having a group of people tour the house today, don't you, Martin?"

"Of course, madam." Martin lifted his empty teacup and peered at it. "Did I drink my tea already?"

"I haven't poured it yet." Violet slammed the lid down on a large saucepan with a loud clatter. "I've only got one pair of hands. I can't do everything at once."

Elizabeth's frown deepened. "Is something the matter, Violet?"

"I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all." Violet spooned hot porridge into two plates and brought them to the table. "There. Milk's in the jug. Just be careful with the sugar."

Martin stared at his plate. "Porridge? Where's my eggs and bacon? What about my sausage?"

Violet whirled on him, her fists digging into her hips. "For your information, Mr. High and Mighty, there's a bloody war on. Eat it and be glad you've got a warm meal inside you. There are thousands out there who would give their right arm for a bowl of hot porridge."

Martin muttered something under his breath and picked up his spoon.

Wisely, Elizabeth decided not to comment on the somewhat meager breakfast after the sumptuous meals they had previously enjoyed. She ate the porridge in silence, trying not to notice when Martin dropped a blob of sticky oatmeal on the lapel of his coat.

"Has Polly arrived yet?" she asked Violet, when the housekeeper collected the empty plates. "I need to go over a few things with her before the tour gets here."

She winced when Violet dropped the dishes in the sink with a crash that threatened to smash them into pieces. "She got here an hour ago. Went straight into the office, she did. She's walking around with a face as long as a poker. That girl has been moping about ever since those investigators picked up her boyfriend. If you ask me, she's too blinking young to be worrying about
boys. Watching her miserable face is getting on my nerves, that it is."

It was Elizabeth's considered opinion that something far more significant than Polly's long face was getting on Violet's nerves, but she knew better than to ask right then. The best time to tackle her housekeeper would be after the tour was over, and things settled down again. Until then, there was much to be done.

Brian Forrester arrived precisely at one o'clock. Watching the tourists awkwardly descend from the coach in the driveway, Elizabeth was concerned that most of them looked too frail to be walking around the manor for two hours. But then, Mr. Forrester seemed to have lots of experience with elderly people, and no doubt knew what he was doing.

Thus assured, she retired to the office to catch up on some paperwork that had been sadly neglected of late. Since Violet would be fully occupied with the tour, Elizabeth had offered to keep the dogs with her until everyone had left.

Listening to them scamper around the desk was rather distracting, but she made herself concentrate and tried to ignore the scuffling, barking, and scratching going on in various parts of the room.

She had been at work for no more than ten minutes when the door of her office opened and a dumpy little woman stood in the doorway. She wore a black hat with a brim that curled over one eye, making it necessary to tilt her head to see out from under it.

"Oh," she said with a little laugh, "I was looking for the lavatory. Is it in here?"

"Oh, please, shut the door," Elizabeth cried, but it was too late. The moment the puppies sensed freedom, they were out the door and off to parts unknown.

"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry," the woman said, belatedly closing the door. "I thought this was the bathroom."

Elizabeth put down her pen. "I'm sorry, but this is
not the bathroom. If you ask a member of my staff, one of them will be happy to escort you to the right place."

"Oh, dear." The woman looked over her shoulder. "I'm afraid I've lost everyone. I don't know where they've gone."

Realizing that she could hardly send the poor woman wandering off on her own, Elizabeth reluctantly rose to her feet. What on earth was Brian Forrester doing that he didn't notice one of his charges was missing?

"Come along," she said briskly, "I'll show you where it is." With the woman in tow she marched along the hallway, and came face to face with Martin. Her butler clung to the arm of a little man whose face was almost hidden by a cloud of white whiskers.

"Ah, there you are, madam," Martin cried out when he saw her. "I must ask that you call the constables at once. I have apprehended an intruder."

The little man glared at Martin. " 'Ere, watch who you're calling an intruder. Let go me bloody arm."

"That's not an intruder," the woman piped up. "That's our Ernie."

"Martin," Elizabeth said sternly, "let the man go at once. He's part of the group touring the manor today. Remember? I told you they were coming."

Martin peered at her over his glasses. "Tour?"

"Yes, you bloody nincompoop," the little man muttered. "I told you I was here on a tour." He glared at Elizabeth. "Bleeding barmy, he is."

Martin seemed to grow an inch. "Any more of that language, my good man, and I'll throw you out myself. This is Lady Elizabeth Hartleigh Compton you are addressing, and I won't stand for that kind of language in her presence."

The little man appeared unimpressed, but the woman gave a little shriek. "Oh, my, a real lady. Never thought I'd meet a real lady in my whole life."

"Martin, take that man back to where you found him."
Elizabeth turned to the woman. "The lavatory is right down the hall to the left."

The woman curtsied, nearly toppling over in the process. "Thank you, your ladyship, though I think it might be a little too late now."

"Oh, dear, I certainly hope not." Elizabeth watched the woman hurry down the hallway, then caught sight of one of the puppies racing up the stairs to the east wing.

Abandoning Martin's captive to his fate, she sprinted for the stairs. Violet had hung a green velvet ribbon across the stairwell to prevent the tourists from wandering into the Americans' quarters. Elizabeth ducked under it and chased up the steps after the puppy.

Bedlam reigned in the Manor House for the rest of the afternoon. Brian Forrester seemed incapable of controlling his group, and people roamed all over the house without proper supervision. Polly and Violet were kept hopping, running in different directions to herd the strays back to the fold.

One of the tourists put on the suit of armor and became trapped inside it. Desmond had to be summoned to rescue the unfortunate man. Both puppies disappeared and it took Elizabeth over an hour of searching before she eventually found them asleep under one of the cots in the officers' quarters.

Brian Forrester was also missing for a while. When Violet found him in the wine cellar, he'd already polished off two bottles of excellent Beaujolais. As for Martin, he locked himself in his room and refused to come out.

By the time the group of weary and confused tourists had been rounded up and loaded on the coach, Elizabeth was exhausted, Violet wasn't speaking to anyone, and Polly looked as if her face would crack if she smiled.

As she stood at the window of the library and watched the coach roll down the driveway, Elizabeth was abso
lutely and positively certain she would never allow another tour of her home.

Basking in the blessed peace that had descended over the manor, she headed for the conservatory, where she intended to finish off the bottle of sherry she'd opened the day before. For once she didn't even feel like talking to Earl. She needed to be alone, with nothing more pressing to think about than how soon she could sink into bed.

She had just poured herself a generous glass of sherry when she heard a tap on the door. Violet poked her head around and, in the same grumpy tone she'd used all day, said, "Mr. Forrester wants a word with you."

Elizabeth stared at her in amazement. "I thought they left."

Violet rolled her eyes. "
They
left.
He
didn't."

Elizabeth put down her glass. "Tell him I've retired for the evening. He can ring me tomorrow. No, not tomorrow, it's Sunday. Tell him to ring me on Monday."

"I tried telling him," Violet said, gritting her teeth. "He won't listen. He won't leave until he's spoken to you."

Fighting back a surge of resentment, Elizabeth lifted her hands in defeat. "All right, I'll speak to him. But not in here."

"I didn't think so. He's waiting in the library. I'll show him into the office when you get there."

Violet withdrew her head, and Elizabeth took a long sip of her sherry before following her housekeeper out the door. As they walked together down the hallway, she laid a hand on Violet's arm. "Have I offended you in some way, Violet?"

Violet's fierce frown smoothed out at once. "Oh, no, Lizzie, it's not you. Just a lot of things happening all at once, that's all."

Relieved, Elizabeth said quickly, "Violet, I'm so sorry about today. I know how hard it was for you and Polly.
We'll just have to find some other way to raise money. I'll ring London on Monday to take us off the Estate Tours, I promise."

Violet wearily nodded. "Whatever you say, Lizzie." She paused at the library door. "Be careful of this man. I don't trust him."

Elizabeth smiled. "Don't worry, Violet. I can handle him."

"I bloomin' hope so."

Elizabeth walked on to the office, while behind her the housekeeper announced with some belligerence, "Lady Elizabeth will see you now in her office."

Seating herself at her desk, Elizabeth prepared to deal with whatever Brian Forrester had to say to her.

It was obvious, the moment he entered the room, that the wine had gone straight to his head. He swayed on his feet, and he appeared unable to focus his gaze on her as he stood in front of her desk. His tucked his thumbs into his waistcoat. "Just wanted to thank you, Lady 'Lizabeth, for allowing me and my old-agers into your magnifishent home."

"My pleasure," Elizabeth murmured, hoping the blatant lie sounded at least marginally sincere.

"Yes, indeed." Forrester waved a hand expansively at the dark paneled walls. "Nice place you have here. I'd enjoy an office like thish."

Elizabeth glanced pointedly at the Westminster clock on the mantelpiece. "Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Forrester?"

"Huh? Oh, no, not really. Just wanted to thank you."

"Then consider me thanked."

Some of her irritation must have sounded in her voice, since he narrowed his eyes and leaned forward with his hands on her desk. "Too bad we couldn't shee all of the house, though. Some of my people feel shortchanged. Trush the Yanks to barge in where they're not wanted. Bloody intruders, that's what I call them."

Reminding herself that she was a lady, Elizabeth said coolly, "Yes, well, if that's all, Mr. Forrester—"

"That's not all, your ladyship. Not by a long chalk. No, shur. I'm sick and tired of these Yanks comin' in and taking over everything. As far as I'm concerned, the only good Yank is a dead Yank, and I'm jolly glad that bashtard got his neck wrung in the bell tower. One lesh to worry about, that's what I shay."

Incensed, Elizabeth soared to her feet. "That's quite enough, Mr. Forrester. You are no longer welcome in my home, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would take your leave at once."

Forrester grinned unpleasantly. "Washamatta, hit a raw spot, did I? Surely, Lady 'Lizabeth, you're not one of those Yankee bait I keep hearing about?"

Unfortunately for Forrester, the door flew open at that moment, revealing a very tall, very angry American in the uniform of the United States Army Air Force. Although he managed to keep his voice low, the lethal note was unmistakable. "You, sir, are leaving. Right now."

Forrester's gloating expression changed to apprehension. He slowly straightened, then turned to face his opponent, while Elizabeth gazed at Earl in grateful relief.

"Who's going to make me," Forrester said nastily, with apparent disregard for his safety.

Earl took a step forward. "I was hoping you'd say something like that." His hand shot out and grabbed Forrester by the scruff of the neck. "It'll be a pleasure to escort you outside, Mr. Forrester."

"Get your damn hands off me, shur!" Forrester roared. "I know what you are. You're nothing but shcum, the lot of you. Go back where you belong, you—"

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by Earl's hand covering his mouth. "Be right back," Earl said grimly, then hustled the spluttering man out the door.

Elizabeth could hear Forrester complaining all the way down the hall, then the noise gradually faded into
silence. She sat down hard on her chair, and realized she was trembling. What an awful man. And how gallant of Earl to remove him like that.

Overcome in her awe of the commanding way he'd taken charge of the situation and dealt with it, she clasped her hands together to stop them shaking. Most impressive. Heroic. Exciting, really.

She sat for a while, trying to calm her shattered nerves, reliving again and again the moment when Earl burst into the room. That moment would dwell in her memory for as long as she lived.

She'd managed to compose herself by the time Earl returned. Smiling at him, she pulled herself to her feet. "Thank you for coming to my rescue. You seem to do be doing that rather a lot lately."

He grinned at her. "My pleasure, your ladyship. Just part of my duties here."

"Somehow I doubt that defending the lady of the manor from obnoxious tour guides is listed in your duty roster, Major."

"Well, it should be." His gaze sharpened in concern. "Are you all right? You looked a bit peaked."

She managed a shaky laugh. "Just exhausted, that's all. It's been a hectic day."

"So I hear. Violet filled me in on the day's events. Sounds like you all had a fun day."

Elizabeth pulled a face. "The only ones who really had fun were George and Gracie." She hesitated, then throwing caution to the wind, added, "Would you care to join me in the conservatory for a glass of sherry?"