“They’ve done good things, too,” Elizabeth reminded her. “They’ve knitted woollies for the military, collected tinfoil, kept victory gardens, and held bazaars and fetes to raise money for planes and ammunition.”
The door swung open just then and Martin crept in, sending everyone into silence. They all sat, staring at him expectantly, while he shuffled over to the table and took his seat.
Without a word Violet dished up some more stew and put it down in front of him. No one spoke as he lifted his knife and fork and began eating.
The silence seemed to stretch into hours, then for the first time since Elizabeth had sat down at the table, Sadie spoke, saying abruptly, “I haven’t heard from Joe.”
It was the last thing Elizabeth expected to hear, and Sadie’s tone of voice warned her that the girl was as frantic about her boyfriend as she herself was about Earl.
Very carefully, she put down her knife and fork and dabbed at her mouth with her serviette. “With everything that’s going on in France, I would be very surprised if we heard anything just yet. You know how secretive they have to be about everything.”
Sadie avoided her gaze. “Yes, m’m. I suppose that’s it.”
Elizabeth’s heart started thumping with apprehension. “I don’t suppose…” Aware of Violet’s sharp gaze, she let her voice trail off.
“No, m’m. I haven’t heard nothing about no one.”
Violet started talking just then, preventing Elizabeth from saying anything else. She sat quietly, eating her stew without tasting a single bite. All her thoughts and prayers were concentrated on Earl and his safe return. Right at that moment, that was all that mattered to her.
CHAPTER 5
Elizabeth spent the afternoon in the office catching up on the correspondence that seemed to have piled up over the past few days. With Polly’s help she answered requests, complaints, and questions, juggled bills, and compiled the agenda for the next town council meeting.
Writing down Captain Carbunkle’s name, she remembered her promise to call in on the newlyweds. First thing in the morning, she promised herself. It would help keep her mind off the problem of Earl and his whereabouts.
Violet was alone that evening when Elizabeth went down to the kitchen for supper. The moment she saw her housekeeper’s face, she knew something was up. For a dreadful moment she thought Martin had gone missing again.
Especially when Violet hissed at her, “That silly old goat needs his head examined.”
Elizabeth sat down heavily on the chair. “What now?”
Violet shook her head, waved a hand in the air, and appeared lost for words.
Alarmed, Elizabeth said sharply, “For heaven’s sake, Violet. Spit it out. What is it?”
“It’s Martin,” Violet spluttered.
Having already guessed that, Elizabeth curled her fingers in frustration. “Is he missing again?”
“No, he’s in his room. He’ll be here any minute for his supper.”
“Then you’d better hurry up and tell me what’s got you in such a dither.”
“I found a pair of knickers in his room.”
Stunned, Elizabeth could only stare at her.
“I went in there this afternoon.” Violet picked up a large butcher’s knife from the kitchen counter and began furiously chopping a beetroot into thin slices. “The old fool refused to tell me where he’d been all night, and I thought there might be something in his room that would tell me.”
Bloodred juice spurted across the chopping board and onto the floor. Ignoring it, Violet went on chopping. “Right there on his dresser. Right there in the open”-she smacked the knife down hard-“bold as brass, was a pair of my best drawers.”
Elizabeth shut her mouth, swallowed, then said calmly, “I’m sure there’s an explanation-”
“Oh, there’s an explanation all right.” Violet reached for another beetroot and began chopping again. “He’s gone blinking bonkers, that’s the explanation. He’s the one been stealing the drawers off the line outside. I told you this would happen. I could see it coming a mile off.”
She turned to face Elizabeth, the dripping knife held in her hand. “We have to get him out of the house. We have to put him in an asylum. We’ve got two young ladies to worry about. We can’t have a demented old fool going around stealing their unmentionables. God knows what he’d get into next. I hate to think, honest I do.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Calm down, Violet. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good-”
She broke off as the door swung open and Martin appeared in the doorway. He took two steps into the kitchen, stopped, clutched his heart, and uttered an ear-piercing scream.
Elizabeth jumped, while Violet waved the knife at her. “See? What did I tell you? He’s gone off his blinking rocker.”
Martin stared at Violet with something akin to horror on his face, one hand still clutching his chest, his mouth opening and shutting with, mercifully, no more sound coming out of it.
Still shaken by the awful shriek, Elizabeth leapt to her feet. “It’s his heart,” she cried, rushing toward him. “He’s having a heart attack.”
Martin’s faded blue eyes focused on her, and he shook his head. One trembling hand pointed at Violet. He whispered something, then coughed, and finally got some coherent words out. “Violet, madam. She’s bleeding all over the floor.”
“What?” Elizabeth spun around to look at her housekeeper.
Violet stood quite still, a dumbfounded expression on her face.
Elizabeth let out her breath in a puff of relief. “That’s not blood, Martin,” she said, feeling a desperate urge to laugh. “It’s beetroot juice. Look, Violet’s cutting up beetroot.”
“Oh, my God.” Martin staggered over to his chair and leaned on the back of it, apparently too spent to make the effort to sit down. “I thought she’d cut off one of her blasted fingers.”
“You silly old fool!” Violet brandished the knife at him, making Elizabeth quite nervous. “What were you doing with my knickers in your room? Tell me that!”
Elizabeth uttered a soft groan. She’d rather thought that they would tread around the matter with some delicacy. Blurting it out like that was not likely to encourage Martin to enlighten them.
To her immense surprise, Martin raised his head and in a voice that had regained considerable strength declared, “If you are referring to that offensive flannel undergarment on my dresser, you might want to explain how it ended up at the end of the driveway, in full view of anyone passing by.”
It was Violet’s turn to look astonished. “At the end of the driveway?”
“That’s what I said.” Martin turned to Elizabeth. “May I have your permission to join you at the table, madam?”
Trying desperately to keep a straight face, Elizabeth said solemnly, “Of course you may, Martin. Please sit down.”
“Thank you, madam. I shall be honored.”
“What do you mean, at the end of the driveway?” Violet demanded. “How did my… unmentionables get there?”
“Well, I shouldn’t think they walked there all by themselves.” Martin’s bones creaked and cracked as he settled himself on his chair.
Violet looked at Elizabeth, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “I swear I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Maybe the dogs took them down there,” Elizabeth suggested.
“What, and unpinned them from the clothesline? Where’s the rest of them, then?” Violet gave Martin a sharp glare. “You don’t have any more hidden under your bed, by any chance?”
Martin looked offended. “Why, in heaven’s name, would I hide your undergarments under my bed? In any case, if I were to indulge in such juvenile behavior, I would undoubtedly choose something infinitely more attractive than those hideous baggy bloomers you wear.”