Elizabeth passed a hand across her eyes. “No, you’re right. It’s just…” To her horror she heard her voice break and quickly took a deep breath.
Violet shrugged off the cardigan she wore and went into the pantry. She came out carrying a bottle of brandy in one hand and a glass in the other. “Here,” she said, pouring the golden liquid into the glass, “you look as if you need this right now.”
For once Elizabeth didn’t argue. She took the glass and cautiously sipped the drink, wincing as it burned her throat. “Nellie Smith’s been kidnaped,” she said, as she put the glass on the table.
Violet clutched her throat. “Oh, my. Nellie? Who would want to kidnap her?”
“The three musketeers, apparently.” Wearily, Elizabeth recounted the story George had given her.
“And they don’t have any idea where they took her?” Violet demanded, when Elizabeth finished the tale.
“No, they don’t. The last thing they saw was a stolen Jeep racing down the coast road. She could be anywhere. In London now, for all we know. We’ll be organizing a search in the morning, but we don’t have much to go on.”
Violet sat down at the table. “Sorry, Lizzie. I know how worried you must be.”
“It’s not only that. It’s everything else. What with Brian Sutcliffe’s murder and-”
“Major Monroe?”
Elizabeth avoided her gaze. “Yes, I’m worried about him, too.”
Violet leaned forward and patted her hand. “I know. Cheer up, duck. He’ll be back, you’ll see.”
“I hope so.” Elizabeth made an effort to smile. “So tell me where you went and why you couldn’t tell Martin.”
Violet straightened her back. “I didn’t tell him because I wasn’t in the mood for his sarcastic remarks. I went out with Charlie Gibbons.”
Elizabeth stared at her. “Wally’s friend? How did that happen?”
Violet shrugged, looking more like a young girl than an elderly woman. “We got on really well at the wedding and he rang me up while you were out this afternoon and asked if I’d like to go to out with him for dinner in North Horsham. He brought his car down from Newcastle. That’s where he lives. So I cooked a stew for the Winterhalters and told Martin to serve them.” She looked worried. “I hope he did.”
As far as Elizabeth could remember, Violet had never had a serious relationship with a man. Judging from the starry-eyed look on her face, Charlie Gibbons seemed to have made a startling first impression on the contentious housekeeper. “Yes, he did,” she assured the housekeeper. “I imagine you had an enjoyable evening.”
“Dinner was very nice,” Violet said primly.
“I’m sure it was.” Elizabeth struggled to sound casual. “Are you seeing him again, or is he going back to Newcastle tomorrow?”
“No, he’s staying with Neville until Wally and Priscilla get back from their honeymoon, so he can help Priscilla move into Wally’s cottage. Fiona’s staying in Priscilla’s flat so she can help, too.”
“How nice for you,” Elizabeth murmured.
Violet gave her a sharp look. “You don’t approve.”
“It’s not up to me to approve or not. It’s not my business.” Elizabeth wrestled with her conscience for a full second before blurting out, “I just don’t want you to be hurt, that’s all. I mean, he’s going back to Newcastle sooner or later, isn’t he?”
Violet met her gaze squarely. “Newcastle is a good deal closer than America.”
Elizabeth slumped back in her chair. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
Violet’s hand closed over hers. “Lizzie, don’t worry about me. I’m at an age when I know all the pitfalls. I’m just having a bit of fun, that’s all. Don’t begrudge me that.”
“Oh, Violet.” Elizabeth clasped the bony hand in hers. “I would never begrudge you a second of happiness. These days one has to grasp every chance one can and live for the moment. Have all the fun you want. I wish you nothing but joy.”
“Thank you.” Violet looked close to tears. “I wish the same for you, dear Lizzie.” She got up from the table, saying brusquely, “I’m weary. I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”
Elizabeth fell asleep that night with a heavy heart and awoke the next morning with a sick feeling of dread that proved impossible to shake. Sadie and Polly joined them for breakfast, as did Martin, who seemed even grumpier than usual. Especially when Violet dumped a plate of porridge in front of him with a cheerful, “Eat up, you old buzzard. This’ll clear you out and make you feel a lot better in no time.”
Martin glared at her over his specs. “I do not require anything to clear me out, as you so crudely phrase it, and I’ll thank you to refrain from making such personal remarks in front of the servants.”
“I ain’t a servant,” Polly protested. “I’m Lady Elizabeth’s assistant.”
“And I’m her personal housemaid,” Sadie put in, “so put that in your pipe and smoke it.”
Martin looked at them both with distaste. “May I remind you that you are sharing a table with her ladyship, a practice I find quite deplorable I might add, and that such abominable language will not be tolerated in her ladyship’s presence.”
Sadie had the grace to look repentant. “Sorry, m’m.” she mumbled.
“I should think so.” Violet placed a bowl of porridge in front of the two girls. “Now eat up. It will give your mouths something to do other than torment Martin.”
Sadie looked up in surprise. “You’re in good spirits this morning, Vi. What’s up with you?”
“My name is Violet,” the housekeeper answered, “and nothing’s up with me. Now finish your meal.”
Sadie exchanged mystified glances with Polly. Elizabeth could hardly blame her. Normally Violet would have been screeching at the top of her lungs at Sadie for her impudence.
Deciding it was time to bring a more serious topic to the table, Elizabeth said quietly, “I’m afraid I have some bad news to tell you.”
Sadie and Polly stared at her with apprehension on their faces, while Martin merely looked resigned. “The Germans are invading us,” he muttered. “I knew it was only a matter of time.”
“No, Martin. They are not invading us. In fact, this has nothing to do with the war. At least, not directly.”
“What is it, then, m’m?” Sadie sat with her spoon halfway to her mouth, the soggy oatmeal dripping from it onto her plate.
“It’s Nellie Smith.” Elizabeth paused, trying to find an easy way to say it, then gave up. “I’m afraid she’s been kidnapped.”
Shocked cries from the girls mingled with Martin’s dry comment, “By the Americans, no doubt.”
Elizabeth ignored him. “Apparently she confronted the three musketeers last night on the coast road. Managed to pull the scarf from one of their faces and they took her away in the Jeep they were driving.”
“They must have stolen the Jeep,” Polly said. “Poor Nellie. What will happen to her?”
“I saw a Jeep last night,” Sadie said, frowning. “It were making a run for it towards the woods. I thought it was the Yanks on maneuvers, but now I come to think about it, I didn’t see them wearing military caps. It were dark, but I could swear they weren’t wearing uniforms.”
Elizabeth jumped up from the table, taking Martin by surprise. He dropped his spoon with a clatter and struggled painfully to his feet, one inch at a time.
“Are you sure?” Elizabeth hurried over to the telephone. “I should let George know at once.”
“I’m sure about the Jeep,” Sadie said. “But I couldn’t honestly say who was in it.”
Elizabeth dialed the number and waited. She counted seven rings before George finally answered. “Sadie saw the Jeep last night,” she said, bypassing the usual greeting. “It was heading into the woods.”
“Right, then that’s where we’ll start. Mrs. Crumm and her lot are here already. I’ll get them off right away.” His voice faded as he spoke to someone in the distance. “Beg pardon? Yes, all right.” He spoke into the mouthpiece again. “Sorry, m’m. Mrs. Crumm took exception to me using the phrase ‘her lot.’ She said to tell you her troops are ready to embark on their mission.”