Fire When Ready (Manor House Mystery) (2 page)

"I told you he was displeased with you, madam," Martin said smugly.

Violet turned on him. "Shut up, you old fool."

Elizabeth sighed. "My mother was a kitchen maid, who happened to marry an earl," she reminded Violet. "Something that some of the villagers will never let me forget."

"If you're talking about that snotty-nosed Rita Crumm," Violet said crossly, "who takes any notice of her? She's a pompous idiot with an inflated opinion of herself. She'd give her firstborn child to be in your shoes."

"Not if she knew the problems I have to deal with," Elizabeth said drily.

"That's what I wanted to tell you," an agitated voice said from the doorway.

Having totally forgotten about Sadie, Elizabeth swung around in her chair to look at her housemaid. "What is it, Sadie? What's happened?"

Sadie came forward and sent a sly glance at Violet before saying, "Good morning, your ladyship."

"Good morning, Sadie. Now tell me, what is it that has you in such turmoil this morning?"

"Probably lost her keys down the toilet," Martin mumbled and he laid his knife and fork down on his plate. "There are far too many bones in this kipper, Violet. I think I have one stuck in my throat."

"Doesn't stop you bleating though, does it." Violet snatched up his plate. "How do you think fish swim around if they don't have bones? If you don't behave yourself, Martin Chezzlewit, I'll take back the glasses I got for you after you gave yours away to that raffle ticket woman."

"I wish you would stop referring to Beatrice Carr as that raffle ticket woman." Martin glared at Violet over his specs. "You know very well what her name is and I wish you would use it."

"Chezzlewit?" Sadie said, looking amused. "Blimey,
what a bloody handle. No wonder you never use it." She winked at Martin. "I'd get rid of that, mate, if I was you."

Martin opened his mouth to reply, but Elizabeth hurriedly jumped in. "Sadie, if you want some breakfast I suggest you sit down and tell us what excited you so this morning."

"Oh, right, m'm." Sadie dragged a chair out from the table and plopped down on it. "What we got for breakfast? Kippers! Ooh, luvly. Me favorite they are. Can I have two?"

Violet rolled her eyes and went back to the stove, while Elizabeth said gently, "Sadie?"

"Right, m'm." Sadie leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Well, Polly heard it from Alfie, while she was down the pub last night."

Elizabeth interrupted her with an exclamation of surprise. "Polly went to the Tudor Arms last night? That
is
good news. She must finally be recovering from Sam Cutter's departure. I think this is the first time she's been out socially since he left."

"She must be getting over 'im," Sadie agreed. " 'Cos she's got a new boyfriend. I haven't met him yet, but Polly says—"

"Sadie!" Violet's harsh voice made them both jump. "Will you please stop repeating gossip to her ladyship and get to the important news as she asked."

Sadie rolled her eyes in an expression that would have intensified Violet's wrath had the housekeeper not had her back turned. "Well, m'm, it's them daft women in the Housewives League. They're planning a protest demonstration at the opening of the factory on Saturday. They say as how nobody's going to take that tour of the building unless it's over their dead bodies."

Violet clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Whatever
next! Those women should be ashamed of themselves, that they should. Behaving like a bunch of children, they are. Naughty ones at that. Disgusting, I call it. Fancy disrupting honest, hardworking people like that."

"Well, since you fail dismally in that category," Martin said from behind his newspaper, "obviously they won't be disrupting you, so there's no need to get in a frenzy about it."

Violet swung around. "Who asked you, you old goat?"

Ignoring them, Elizabeth stared at Sadie in dismay. "Oh, dear, I was rather afraid something like this would happen. Did Polly say what kind of demonstration?"

Sadie shook her head, making the bunches of hair flap back and forth. "No, m'm. Polly says it's all supposed to be a big secret, but Marge Gunther let it slip. You know what a big mouth Marge has got."

"That appears to be an epidemic around here," Martin grumbled.

"Well then, I'll talk to Polly about it. She might be able to tell me something that will help." Elizabeth dabbed at her mouth with her serviette, then laid it on the table. "I can't stop the Housewives League from demonstrating, but if I know what to expect, I might be able to prevent things from getting out of hand."

"Well, don't rely on the police constables to help." Violet slapped a plate of kippers in front of Sadie, glaring at the girl when she rudely smacked her lips. "You know how blinking useless they are. I swear George and Sid are afraid of Rita Crumm."

"Everyone's afraid of Rita Crumm," Sadie mumbled. "Bleeding old battle-axe."

Violet cuffed Sadie on the back of her head. "Watch
your language, my girl. And don't talk with your mouth full."

Elizabeth winced, but Sadie seemed not in the least bothered by Violet's outburst. She was too busy devouring her kippers.

"I'll be in the office if anyone needs me." Elizabeth headed for the door.
It's just as well
, she thought,
that Sadie is so easy-going. With her stocky build, she could send Violet's scrawny body across the kitchen with one sweep of her arm
. It was comforting to know that in spite of all the changes the war had brought to the world as they'd known it, the voice of authority still counted for something. She could only hope the same could be said when she was faced with the formidable group leader of the Housewives League.

She and Rita Crumm went back a long way, on a road fraught with contention. Their clashes were legendary, with Rita doing her very best to undermine the lady of the manor. The trouble with Rita was that she had ambition far beyond her capabilities. In charge of the war effort in Sitting Marsh, she often plunged into projects with more enthusiasm than common sense in her determination to be recognized as a leader. Her efforts sometimes brought admirable results. Other times, nothing short of disaster. This coming protest, for instance.

Elizabeth sighed as she climbed the creaking stairs to the upper floor of the drafty old mansion. A demonstration was the last thing Douglas McNally needed right now. Already facing a barrage of opposition to the new factory, this would only aggravate the villagers' concerns.

She would just have to appeal to Rita's patriotic ideals. After all, the factory would be a great asset to the war effort. According to the newspapers, the Allies badly needed
more weapons and ammunition. Surely Rita would see the value in that.

Then again, when did that woman ever listen to reason? Unfortunately, it appeared very much as if yet another battle was brewing on the home front. And a nasty one at that.

CHAPTER

2

Polly sat at her desk, her chin slumped in her hands. She barely looked up as Elizabeth entered the office, and her voice sounded a little hoarse as she mumbled, "Good morning, your ladyship."

"Are you catching a cold?" Elizabeth peered at her young assistant in concern. "This dreadful weather is giving everyone a cold. Perhaps you should have stayed home today."

Polly shook her head and managed a weak grin. "It's not a cold, m'm. Honest. I was singing down the pub last night and lost me voice. It'll come back in a while, I'm sure."

"Well, at least it sounds as if you had a good time." Elizabeth sat down at her desk and started sorting through the pile of letters waiting for her attention. "Sadie tells me you have a met a young man," she said carefully.

Ever since Squadron Leader Sam Cutter had returned to America, Polly had been extremely sensitive on the issue of boyfriends. She seemed to brighten up quite a bit, however, when she answered.

"I met him at the Arms. His name is Ray Muggins, and he's down from London. Got a job at the new factory. He's training the women to work on the conveyor belts. He used to work at a factory in London, so he knows what he's doing." She sent Elizabeth a sly smile. "He's awfully handsome. Reminds me of Humphrey Bogart, he does."

Elizabeth paused. "Well, I hope he's younger than Humphrey Bogart." It was rather a personal comment, she reflected belatedly. Then again, a significant age difference had caused the breakup of Polly's romance with the American officer. She wouldn't want to see the girl hurt again like that.

Polly's smile wavered. "He's younger than Sam, if that's what you mean."

Immediately contrite, Elizabeth hurried to make amends. "I'm sure he's a very nice young man. In any case, it's really none of my business."

"He is really nice. He had some kind of illness when he was a baby and it gave him a bad heart. That's why he's not in the army. You'd never know it, though, to look at him. I really like him a lot."

Sensing the lack of confidence behind Polly's words, Elizabeth frowned. "Well, you have plenty of time to get to know him. I imagine he'll be staying here in Sitting Marsh for a while if he's going to train the factory workers."

"He's nice-looking, he's got plenty of money, and he makes me laugh. That's all I need to know, m'm."

Deciding that she'd already said enough, Elizabeth changed the subject. "Well, I have to write a speech for the
opening ceremony for the factory, so I'd better get on with it. Sadie tells me you heard that the Housewives League was planning a protest. Did Alfie say exactly what they had in mind?"

Polly shook her head. "Sorry, m'm. I don't think he knew much about it. Marge started to tell him, but then she shut up. Afraid of what Rita Crumm would say, I reckon."

"No doubt," Elizabeth said grimly. "Well then, I shall just have to be prepared for anything." She watched Polly carry a handful of paid bills over to the file cabinet. Something in the girl's voice when she'd talked about her new boyfriend made her uneasy. She could only hope that Polly wasn't using this young man to get over her breakup with Sam Cutter. So many bad relationships were caused by acting on the rebound from a broken heart. She said no more about it, however, aware that Polly was unlikely to appreciate or heed her advice.

An hour later the office chores had been taken care of, and she sent Polly down to the village to collect an overdue rent. It was a task that Elizabeth thoroughly disliked, while Polly seemed to actually enjoy the chance to exercise her newly found assurance.

That was one thing Sam Cutter had done for her
, Elizabeth thought, as the door closed behind her assistant. Polly was growing up. It was sad that she'd had to learn such a hard lesson so young, but perhaps it would save her from making an even more disastrous mistake. Like marrying the wrong man for the wrong reasons.

Irritated by the unwelcome memory of her former husband, Elizabeth pushed her chair back and wandered over to the window. Now that they were in the heart of winter, the daylight hours were short, making the long night of blackout even more depressing.

Maybe Violet was right. Maybe she should get out more. Being cooped up in this sprawling mansion with its dark walls and ancient furnishings was enough to make anyone feel dreary.

Outside the window, the snow-covered lawns swept down to the woods in a smooth, unbroken flow of white. Beyond them, scrawny, leafless limbs stabbed the metal skies with witchlike claws. In the distance, a sliver of silver gray ocean peeked through the bare trees. The North Sea looked as bleak as the sky.

Across a different ocean, Earl was under the same sky. It comforted her to remind herself of that. She missed him so much. Even though he'd been gone so many months, she could still picture him as clearly as if he'd just left. She could see him rocking in his favorite chair in the conservatory, a glass of Scotch in his hand, the blond streaks gleaming in his light brown hair.

Even after months of living in the cool English climate, his leathery skin had never quite lost the deep tan of a man used to being in the sun. She smiled to herself, remembering. But then, as always, the memories brought back the pain of losing him.

She turned away from the chilly view from the window and crossed the room to where the wicker rocking chair stood. Earl had sat in it so often he'd considered it "his" chair. After he'd left, she'd had Desmond, the gardener, bring it up to her office. She couldn't bear the thought of anyone else sitting in it now.

At times, when she ached with loneliness, she'd take comfort in sitting in the chair herself. She sat down on it now, leaned back, and closed her eyes. Rocking gently back and forth, she wrapped herself in the memory of Earl. The way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled.
The strand of hair that fell across his forehead. His deep voice uttering her name, making it sound so much more romantic in his American drawl.

After a while she made herself get out of the chair.
All the imagining in the world wasn't going to bring him back
, she told herself sternly. She was simply delaying the process of forgetting him. Considering he was never hers to begin with, she was being quite silly about the whole thing.

Such self-reprimands had become a habit lately. Not that they solved anything, but at least she could tell herself she was making the effort.

Sighing, she sat down at her desk and pulled a notepad toward her. She had two days to write a speech that would reassure the villagers that the establishment of a munitions factory within the vicinity of Sitting Marsh did not amount to a horde of Nazi bombers dropping their deadly load on the village. A speech that would convince her people that the factory would bring many benefits, such as higher wages that would be spent in the town. A speech that would drown out that dratted woman, Rita Crumm, and silence her well-meaning but utterly dense followers.
In other words
, Elizabeth thought gloomily,
an impossible task
.

"So tell me more about this new bloke you met." Sadie sat on the bottom step of the stairs and gazed up at Polly in expectation. "How old is he? Where's he living? How long is he going to be in Sitting Marsh? Has he offered you a job?"