Manor House 04 - Dig Deep for Murder (11 page)

Right now, all she had were hunches and supposition. As she had learned through experience, that was not nearly enough to consider a person suspect. She needed proof. Finding the murder weapon would help considerably.

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she spied three young women trudging up the hill ahead of her. Apparently her applicants had arrived. She squeezed her horn and roared past them without acknowledging them. First impressions were important, and she had no wish to present herself to a future servant . . . no, employee, as a speed maniac on a motorcycle with goggles awry and her best straw hat strung around her neck on flimsy elastic and flapping wildly behind her. That wouldn't do at all.

CHAPTER

8

"You must be Sadie Buttons." Elizabeth picked up the sheet of paper lying in front of her and studied it. "I see you've been in domestic service in London."

"Yes, m'm. Three years, or thereabouts."

"Your references seem satisfactory." Elizabeth laid down the paper and gazed at the young woman seated on the other side of her office desk. "Tell me, why do you want to live in Sitting Marsh?"

Sadie's pert features screwed up into a grimace. Her curly dark brown hair had been parted and secured into bunches with rubber bands. They stuck out on each side of her face, which had been scrubbed clean of makeup, making her look younger than her eighteen years.

She sat twisting her hands in her lap, as if afraid they might get away from her. "I'll go any place what doesn't have bombs dropping on it. Been bombed out twice, I have. Last time I was buried for three hours before they
dug us out. I was in the lav at the time. Only room left standing by the time it was all over. I couldn't get out, though, 'cause of the rubble blocking the door."

"Oh, my goodness." Elizabeth stared at her in horror. "How absolutely awful for you."

"Yes, m'm. It were."

"What about your family? Where are they?"

Sadie shrugged. "Me dad and me bruvver's in the Army. Me mum's got a new boyfriend. She's never home. She won't even know I'm gone."

"But you do intend to let her know where you are, should you get the position?"

Sadie looked at her with solemn gray eyes. "What for?"

Elizabeth felt a strong pang of sympathy for the young girl. It sounded as though her home life left a lot to be desired. "Well, as you know, a housemaid's work can be quite strenuous. Especially in a house this size. Unfortunately, we can't offer you a great deal of help. Violet, the housekeeper, does her best, but the brunt of the work would fall on you."

Sadie looked doubtful. "It's an awfully big house."

"Yes, well, I don't expect you to keep it all clean, of course. Most of it is shut off, and Violet takes care of the kitchen, as well as the butler's room and her private quarters. Your duties would be mostly my bedroom and office, the bathrooms, the library and conservatory, the drawing room and dining room. Then there's the east wing. Normally that would be closed off, but now that the American officers are billeted there, I'm afraid it will have to be included. I'm told, however, that the officers take excellent care of their quarters, so that shouldn't be much of a problem."

Sadie nodded. "I reckon I can handle that all right."

Elizabeth eyed her stocky figure. She had good shoulders on her, and thick arms. She appeared to be a lot more robust than Polly, whose slender frame nevertheless had a surprising amount of strength and stamina. "You'd have to find somewhere to live in the village, of course. But
that could be arranged. As a matter of fact, I have a cottage to rent—"

"I was hoping I could live here, your ladyship."

Taken aback, Elizabeth said quickly, "Oh, I really don't think—"

"Lady Elizabeth"—Sadie leaned forward, her eyes wide in her earnest face—"I'm a good worker, I am. My last employer would tell you that—if she was still alive. Me mum don't want me, me friends have all moved out of the smoke, and I hate living by meself. Gives me the willies, it does, ever since I got bombed out. I don't need no fancy room. I'd sleep in the stables if you like. If you let me live here, I'll work me fingers to the bone for you, I swear, honest to God. I'll have this whole place gleaming like gold, you just see."

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair. There was no doubt about the girl's enthusiasm. "I hadn't really planned on hiring a live-in," she said cautiously. "I'll have to think about it. In any case, I haven't yet made up my mind who will be hired for the position. Since all three of you will be staying here for the night, Violet will be talking to all of you over supper. She and I will discuss the matter later, and we'll make the decision in the morning."

"Yes, m'm." Sadie got slowly to her feet. "I can't tell you how bad I want this job, your ladyship. It means a lot to me."

Her desperation concerned Elizabeth a great deal. "I can see that. I'll let you know what we decide in the morning."

"Yes, m'm. Thank you, m'm." The girl looked most unhappy as she moved to the door. Obviously she didn't have much confidence in her chances of being employed.

Much as she needed a housemaid, Elizabeth reminded herself, she couldn't allow her sympathy to cloud her judgment. There was also the matter of Violet's opinion. Her housekeeper would not be swayed by emotions. During the following two interviews, however, she had trouble keeping Sadie's fervent face out of her mind.

As the third applicant left the office, Elizabeth found herself hoping that Violet would want to hire Sadie Buttons. Though all three girls were qualified for the position, only Sadie had made it sound as if she'd break her back for the chance of being employed at the Manor House. Though how Violet would accept the idea of the girl living in the mansion was another question entirely.

Since the girls would be taking their evening meal in the kitchen, Elizabeth had elected to have a light meal alone in the conservatory. Though this was her favorite room in which to relax, she rarely dined there, preferring to take her meals with Violet and Martin in the huge, warm kitchen where she had spent so many happy hours of her childhood.

She'd escaped to the kitchen every chance she had, despite her mother's objections and her father's outright disapproval. As an only child, she'd spent too many lonely hours in her bedroom, or the schoolroom with her tutor. She'd adored the hustle and bustle of the busy kitchen, with its jovial staff of maids and cooks, and the occasional visits of a stable lad or two. The contrast between her parents' somber lifestyle and the cheerful hubbub of the kitchen was like night and day.

Now the conservatory served as her private refuge. A quiet, peaceful room that in the daytime allowed a view of the rolling lawn and gardens through its floor-to-ceiling windows. At night the view was obscured by the despised blackout curtains, though the room managed to retain the cozy feeling of being secluded from the rest of the house. Here Elizabeth could relax and forget the torments of her busy life.

Violet rarely disturbed her in this tranquil sanctuary, unless it was an emergency. She was therefore surprised to hear a tap on the door and see the head of her housekeeper peeking around it. "Major Monroe to see you," she muttered. "I suppose you want me to show him in."

Aware of Violet's disapproval of her friendship with the major, Elizabeth merely smiled. "If you would, Violet.
Thank you. And I'm finished with my tray, if you'd like to take it with you."

She could tell Violet was holding her tongue with the greatest of difficulty as she took the tray and left the room. A moment or two later another tap accelerated Elizabeth's heartbeat.

"Come in!" she sang out, and hastily brushed crumbs from her skirt before gazing expectantly at the opening door.

The moment he came into the room, she knew something was wrong. His ruggedly handsome face, usually wreathed in smiles when he greeted her, seemed strained and tired. His eyes were bleak, and he avoided looking at her directly, as if wary of giving his thoughts away.

She leaned forward, heart racing with apprehension. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He sat down heavily, and reached for her hand.

With mixed emotions, she waited for him to speak.

It was some time before he did so. When he finally spoke, his words struck a chill in her heart. "Elizabeth, something's happened, and I can't think of any way to make it easy for you."

"You've been called back to America." It was the thing she'd dreaded ever since she'd first realized how she felt about him.

For the first time he met her gaze, and something in his eyes made her pulse leap. "No, that's not it."

Relief made her heady. "Then whatever it is, I'm sure it can't be as bad as you think."

He turned her hand palm up in his own warm hands. "Elizabeth, there's been an accident. A bad one. Squadron Leader Sam Cutter's in the hospital in North Horsham. He's in a coma, and the medics don't know if he's going to make it."

Elizabeth wrinkled her brow. "Sam Cutter? But I thought he was on leave. He was supposed to go to Yarmouth today with Polly. . . ." Her voice trailed off when she saw Earl's expression. "Oh, no. Please, not Polly."

"She's in the hospital, too," Earl said quickly. "That's all I know. They won't tell me any more than that. I thought maybe you would want—"

He broke off as Elizabeth rose abruptly to her feet. "I'd like to see her."

"I thought you might. I'll take you."

She struggled to keep her thoughts coherent. "What about her mother? Does she know?"

"She went with her to the hospital. I believe her sister went, too."

She realized, then, that he was still holding her hand. How she longed to feel his arms holding her close. Arms to which she had no right. "I must tell Violet, and get my coat. The sea breeze is so cool at night—" Her voice wavered, and she swallowed hard.

He let go of her hand and held her gently by her upper arms. "Elizabeth, it might not be protocol or whatever, but it's okay by me if you want to let it all out. I have a big shoulder you can cry on."

She would never know how she held on to her composure in that moment. Maybe it was her upbringing that gave her the strength. Or maybe it was the fear that if she once "let it all out" as he suggested, she might very well lose her reserve altogether and reveal her feelings for him—which, she was quite sure, would be a disastrous mistake.

Instead she raised her chin. "Thank you, Earl. I truly appreciate your concern. I'm extremely grateful for your offer of a lift to the hospital, and if you'll give me a few minutes, I'll meet you at the front door."

His expression was rueful as he let her go. "The British stiff upper lip wins the day. One of these days, Lady Elizabeth, you're going to lose that iron control of yours. I kind of hope I'm there to see it." He left rather abruptly, while she wallowed in confusion, wondering exactly what he meant and if she'd offended him in some way.

She had little time to ponder on it, however. She hur
ried down to the kitchen and quickly told Violet the dreadful news.

"Poor little mite." Violet stacked a wet plate on the draining board. "What a nasty shock for her mother. I do hope she's going to be all right. Do you want me to come with you to the hospital?"

"No, no, you need to stay here and take care of our guests."

"Not exactly guests, are they?" Violet squinted at her. "You going to be all right, Lizzie? Try not to worry. Polly's a lot stronger than she looks."

"I know it's silly," Elizabeth admitted, "but I think of Polly as family. She's like a daughter—or a younger sister—oh, I don't know. I just know that if . . . something . . . should happen to her, it would break my heart."

"I know. I'm fond of her, too." Violet wiped her hands on her apron. "But let's not get all worked up over what might be nothing. Polly's young, and she's a fighter. She'll pull through. You'll see."

Elizabeth grabbed Violet's hands. "Violet, I pray that you're right. Now I must run. Earl is taking me to the hospital."

For once Violet raised no objections. "Give her my love." She tried to smile, but it worried Elizabeth to see the fear in her eyes. "Tell her she'll do anything to get out of working."

Elizabeth fled from the kitchen before her resolve cracked and she bawled like a baby.

Earl stood waiting for her in the hallway when she came down from her bedroom a few minutes later. If he'd been miffed at her earlier, he gave no sign of it as they sped along the dark, windswept road to North Horsham.

"You didn't tell me what happened," she said, more to break the awkward silence than out of any desire to hear the details. "What kind of accident was it?"

"I don't know much. The MP told me Sam was driving too fast and swerved to miss a guy on a bike. The jeep overturned. Polly was thrown clear, but Sam was trapped
underneath. The jeep dragged him down the road. His face is pretty badly scraped, and he broke his arm and a couple of ribs."

"Poor Sam. To have survived all that danger in the skies, only to meet it on the ground." She inhaled, breathing in the salty air. Somehow the beach smelled different at night—the aroma of seaweed and wet sand was made more pronounced by the night breezes. It reminded her of the old days, before the world had gone crazy. She swallowed around a lump in her throat. "They didn't tell you anything at all about Polly?"

"Only that she'd been taken to the hospital. Sorry, Elizabeth. I'd tell you if I knew more."

"That's all right. I suppose I could have rung the hospital. Then again, they might not have told me anything either. At least if I'm there, I can insist on talking to someone about Polly."

"That's my girl."

Momentarily distracted by the thought of being referred to as Earl's "girl," Elizabeth was unprepared when he added, "So what did you think of my gift?"

She caught her breath, unwilling to admit she'd actually forgotten about it. "I'm sorry, Earl, really I am. I haven't opened it yet. Things have been rather hectic lately, and I've been so preoccupied. . . ."

"That's okay. I know I'm way down on your list of priorities."

Realizing he was hurt, she felt like sobbing. How could she possibly have forgotten a gift from him? She patted the pocket of her coat, satisfying herself that the slight bulge was still there. "I wanted to wait until I had time to myself to enjoy opening it," she offered, hoping he'd accept her excuse.