She hadn’t been gone more than ten minutes, hovering outside the back door, when she heard Martin lift the telephone from its hook. Since he was ringing all the way to London, she knew it would take a while for everything to connect, which gave her plenty of time to run around to the east wing steps, enter the great hall, and run the length of it to reach Elizabeth’s office.
Once there, she had to wait a moment or two to catch her breath. Martin was bound to hear all that huffing and puffing if she didn’t. She considered it her duty to find out what was going on. After all, there were people out there who took advantage of elderly gentlemen like Martin, and someone had to look out for the old fool. Lizzie would thank her for taking care of matters.
Having thus satisfied her conscience, Violet felt no qualms about lifting the telephone in Lizzie’s office to listen in.
After carefully lifting the receiver from its hook, she held her breath and pressed the telephone to her ear. She was just in time to hear Martin’s quavery voice telling someone his name.
Violet listened to the entire conversation, then waited for Martin to hang up the telephone downstairs before replacing the receiver.
She was at the door when the telephone jangled, scaring her half out of her wits. She waited through a couple of the double rings, then picked up the receiver again. Martin must have gone back to his room. Not that he ever answered the telephone. Always complained he couldn’t hear a word through that newfangled trumpet. Which didn’t stop him from using it when it was convenient for him, of course.
Holding the receiver to her ear, she said warily, “The Manor House. This is the housekeeper speaking.”
A woman’s voice answered her. “This is Sister Brown at North Horsham General Hospital. I wish to speak to Lady Elizabeth, if you please.”
Violet peered at the clock on Lizzie’s desk. It was almost five o’clock. “Her ladyship is not present,” she said, a faint worry beginning to niggle at her. “In fact, I was under the impression she was at the hospital.”
“Ah, well, that’s what I wanted to speak to her about. She inquired about the health of Major Monroe, and I wanted to tell her that the doctor has given his permission for the major to receive visitors. Major Monroe is awake and wishes to see her.”
Violet frowned. “But she should be there by now. In fact, I was expecting her to come home again soon. Are you sure she’s not visiting the major?”
“I just looked in on him ten minutes ago,” the sister assured her, “and he hasn’t had any visitors at all today.”
“Well, as soon as I see her ladyship I’ll be sure to pass on the message.” Violet paused, then added, “Perhaps you’ll ask her to give me a ring if she should arrive there?”
“Certainly.”
“Please give my best to the major.” Violet put down the telephone, the worry beginning to grow. Where on earth could Lizzie be if she wasn’t at the hospital? She tried to remember exactly what Elizabeth had said that morning. I have an errand to run, then I’m going into North Horsham. What kind of errand would keep her busy all day, especially when she was so anxious to see the major? It didn’t make sense.
Her stomach knotted with worry now, Violet hurried back to the kitchen. If only Lizzie had told her what errand she was going to run, she might have been able to track her down.
She lifted the telephone and started dialing George’s number, then hung up again. There was no point in raising an alarm if it wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t as if Lizzie were chasing after a murderer or anything, like she sometimes did.
Violet turned away from the telephone, then changed her mind again. Lizzie must have eaten somewhere that day, and Bessie’s tea shop seemed the likely place.
Bessie answered her ring, sounding rushed and out of breath.
“I was wondering if her ladyship dropped by today,” Violet said, doing her best to sound unconcerned.
“Yes,” Bessie said, her voice tinged with impatience. “She was here. Had a Cornish pasty and left.”
“What time was that?”
“Around one o’clock, I suppose. I know we were busy. Just like we are now.”
Ignoring the hint, Violet demanded, “Did she say where she was going after that?”
There was a pause while Bessie answered someone in the background, then she spoke into the telephone again. “No, she didn’t.” She seemed about to hang up, then added, “Is something wrong?”
“No, no,” Violet hastily assured her. “I was just wondering if she was coming home for supper, that’s all.”
“She didn’t say. She did ask about Clyde Morgan’s horse, now I come to think about it. She might have called in there.”
Violet thanked her and hung up. Her face creased in a frown, she sat down at the kitchen table. Why on earth would Lizzie be asking about the rag and bone man’s horse? Clyde Morgan was dead. Was she thinking about buying his horse? Surely not. She had enough trouble taking care of the two hounds the major had given her.
Violet’s frown deepened. In a million years she would never have thought that Lizzie would spend all day seeing about a horse when her major was waiting for her in a hospital bed in North Horsham. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ring George after all.
Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes and blinked. Searing pain stabbed through her head when she turned it, and she uttered a soft moan. She lay on her side, and the arm pinned beneath her had gone to sleep. She tried moving it, but her hands seemed to be tied together. She couldn’t open her mouth. Something soft had been tied over it.
The air was unbearably stuffy, and an awful smell invaded her nostrils. Hearing a soft shuffling sound, she braved the pain to lift her head. She appeared to be in a shed, with a horse for company.
In the next instant it all came flooding back. Iris Morgan had attacked her, ordered her son to tie her up, and intended to throw her and her motorcycle over the cliff to make it look like an accident.
Groaning in pain, Elizabeth eased herself over onto her back and stared at the beams above her head. No one knew she was there. Violet thought she was in North Horsham visiting Earl. There was no hope of escape. She couldn’t even call out.
Just to make sure, she drew in a deep breath through her nose and tried to force it out in a shout. All she got for her efforts was a muffled whine and another vicious stab of pain in her head.
Moving her bound feet, she winced when her ankle came in contact with something sharp. With great caution she angled her head, and realized she was lying in the cart, alongside her motorcycle.
She lay back, her spirits plummeting. Was this how it was all going to end? Would Earl survive, only to find out she had died in a so-called accident after driving over a cliff? What would that do to his recovery?
No! She could not, would not, let it happen. She turned her head again and examined the motorcycle. Her ankle had collided with the edge of the mudguard. Was it sharp enough to cut through the rope that bound her hands? It was worth a try.
The pain in her head almost blinded her as she wriggled around to get her hands in position. At long last she was there, and she pressed the rope against the mudguard and began sawing.
She sawed until her arms felt as if they would drop off from fatigue, but the thought of Earl lying in that hospital bed kept her at it. Just when she thought she could not move her arms one more inch, she felt the rope begin to give.
Her determination renewed, she sawed even more frantically. So intent was she on breaking through the final strands, she didn’t hear the shed door open. It wasn’t until she heard his voice that she realized Tommy had come back into the shed and stood not five feet away from her.