The major looked impressed. “Tell me about the murder. Was it really a land girl with her head chopped off?”
“Not exactly. It was one of the land girls, unfortunately, but as far as I know, her head was still intact. She was brutally attacked, however, with an axe, so the constables tell me.”
“And the police think the German pilot killed her?”
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “They don’t really know who killed her yet.”
“And what do you think?”
She studied her glass for a moment or two before answering. “I think,” she said slowly, “that there are a lot more questions to be answered before we can even begin to discover what really happened.” Questions she would somehow have to take care of herself, she silently added, if true justice was to be served.
CHAPTER7
Elizabeth was well pleased with the meal that Violet served up that evening, helped somewhat by Martin under the housekeeper’s eagle eye. Violet had managed to find a small beef roast, and the Yorkshire puddings definitely had been made with an egg-a vast improvement on the heavy lumps of batter everyone had been forced to endure for the past months.
The sherry trifle was a delight, delicate and flavorful as it should be. In fact, it tasted so good Elizabeth wondered if Violet had recruited a friend of hers to make it-a thought she would have to keep to herself for fear of insulting her housekeeper.
Earl was excellent company, amusing her with stories of his hometown in Wyoming-a place called Rock Springs, which, according to Earl, wasn’t much bigger than Sitting Marsh. Yet from the way he described the vast open lands surrounding it, there was a whole world of difference in his life there.
How he must miss it all, she thought as she listened to him talk about rodeos, roundups, and so many other things beyond her imagination. It was a magical world he talked about, and in spite of her good intentions, she envied the woman who waited for him to return.
Violet served brandy in the conservatory, obviously flattered by Earl’s effusive praise of her cooking. Even Elizabeth had to admit Violet had outdone herself and made a mental note to tell her so at the first opportunity.
Alone with the major, she did her best to relax in front of the glass walls that overlooked the lawns. This was her favorite room in the house-her own special sanctuary-and Earl Monroe was one of the few people she had allowed in her haven. She often wondered what he would make of that if she were to tell him so.
Settled on the wicker chairs, they chatted about the history of the Manor House, until he surprised her by asking, “Don’t you think it’s time you told me what it was you wanted to discuss?”
She tried to remember what it was that had seemed so important that morning. “There was really nothing specific,” she admitted at last. “I was wondering if you had any concerns about your accommodations and if there was anything any of us could do to make you more comfortable. You must be rather cramped up there.”
“I don’t think the men mind that at all.” Earl set down his empty brandy glass. “It’s a heck of a lot better than anything on base, and they get a kick out of staying in a big old house like this. They call it the Palace.”
“Really.” She rather liked that, Elizabeth decided. “You must let me know if you get too cold. I’m afraid the only source of heating is the fireplace, but we have plenty of coal in the cellar for fires, and I can tell Polly to make them up for you in the mornings.”
“It’s not that cold yet. I reckon the only thing that keeps the men awake at night is the noise in the water pipes. Sometimes it sounds like a freight train going through a tunnel.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I know what you mean. Dreadful noise. The plumbing is so ancient in this house. I should have someone look at it.”
“I can ask around the base if you like. I reckon I can find a plumber among the guys out there. Give him a home-cooked meal like the one I had tonight and he’ll be happy to help out.”
Delighted, Elizabeth beamed at him. “Would you? That is really most kind of you.”
“Least I can do after dumping my men in your home.”
“Oh, but that wasn’t your fault.”
“No, ma’am. Doesn’t make it any easier on you or your servants, though.”
“Oh, they don’t mind, really. Violet loves to take care of people, and Polly thinks she’s in paradise now that she’s surrounded by Americans. Even Martin seems to have brightened up since you arrived. Things have been rather dull around here for him since my parents died.”
“I wouldn’t say a murder is dull, Lady Elizabeth.”
She took a moment to answer him. She liked the way he said her name. It sounded softer, more romantic somehow, when he said it. Pulling herself together, she said a little more sharply than she’d intended, “Maybe not, but I’d just as soon do without it.”
“I’m sure you would. I didn’t mean-”
“I know you didn’t.” She rose, bringing him to his feet as well. “I’m sorry, Major Monroe. I’m a little tired, I suppose.”
He gave her one of his piercing stares. “You’re not involved in this murder business again?”
“Not really.” She shivered and rubbed her upper arms with her hands. “Though murder in a village the size of Sitting Marsh is thoroughly unsettling to everyone. Somehow I can’t help feeling a little sorry for that young German, hunted down by soldiers and the police, alone in a strange, hostile country where he doesn’t even know the language.”
“He’d shoot you as soon as look at you, and from what I’ve heard, seems he hacked a young girl to death with an axe.”
“I know.” She did her best to summon a smile. “I’m being far too sentimental, I admit. It’s just as well I’m not a policewoman. I would take it all far too personally.”
He returned her smile. “I reckon they could do a lot worse.”
“Thank you.” Flustered, she moved to the door. “Goodnight, Major. I’ve enjoyed talking to you. Please, let me know if there’s anything else my staff or I can do for you.”
He hesitated, opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. “Goodnight, Lady Elizabeth.”
Her curiosity would not let it go. “You were going to say something?”
He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Well, it’s kind of weird, I guess, and I’m sure there’s some simple explanation…”
His voice trailed off, and she waited, intrigued by his hesitancy. When he didn’t immediately continue, she said impatiently, “Major Monroe, if something is not acceptable in the east wing, I trust you would tell me.”
“There’s probably nothing to it.”
“Nothing to what?”
“Well, this is going to sound real crazy, but some of my men have talked about seeing something in the grand hallway. I was just wondering if you had some kind of explanation I could give them.”
Remembering Martin’s muttering about her father’s ethereal return to the Manor House, she felt a chill of apprehension. “You mean the great hall? What did they see?”
“The great hall. Yes, ma’am. Well, a couple of the men swear they saw… a ghost.”
She felt as if all her breath had been cut off. “That’s ridiculous,” she said faintly.
“That’s what I told them, ma’am.”
“It must have been a shadow or something. These old houses can play dreadful tricks on the eyes.”
He nodded, his gaze grave on her face. “I couldn’t agree more.”
She allowed a few seconds to slip by then said briskly, “Well, I’m glad we got that settled.”
“So am I. Thank you for a swell evening. Please give my regards to the chef. The meal was excellent.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Major.” She watched him leave with the feeling that they hadn’t really settled anything at all. A ghost. Was it possible Martin hadn’t been entirely imagining things after all? Wonderful. That’s all she needed now, on top of everything else.