“Did you hear about the dance on Saturday?” Marlene asked eagerly the minute Polly put her foot inside the door that night.
Still flushed from the kiss Sam gave her before he dropped her off at the house, Polly had to collect her thoughts a bit before she answered. “Dance? What dance?”
Marlene waltzed down the narrow hallway to the kitchen, her red hair swinging above her shoulders. “Her ladyship is putting on a dance at the town hall and guess what!”
Polly followed her, intrigued by her older sister’s excitement. “Clark Gable is coming.”
“Not bloomin’ likely, silly.” Marlene pushed open the kitchen door and disappeared inside.
Polly hung her coat up on the hallstand and rushed into the kitchen behind her. “So tell me what!”
Marlene grabbed her startled mother and swung her around, spraying water from the potato peeler she held in her hand. “Go on, Ma, tell Polly about the dance!”
Edna Barnett sighed. “Rita and the rest of us all had tea with Lady Elizabeth this afternoon, and-”
“What?” Polly gaped at her in astonishment. “What, up at the Manor House? I didn’t see none of you up there.”
“Not at the Manor House,” Edna explained patiently. “At Bessie’s tearoom. Her ladyship paid for everything.”
“Why’d she do that?”
“Because she wanted to ask us if we’d help decorate the town hall tonight. The council is putting on a dance on Saturday night.”
“Ah,” Polly murmured, nodding her head, “so that’s why she had me pull out all that stuff from the storerooms. I thought she was going to spruce up the Manor House a bit.”
Marlene gave her mother a hefty nudge. “Go on, tell her who’s invited.”
“You already told me it weren’t Clark Gable.” Polly flopped down on the nearest chair. “I’m not much interested in anyone else.”
“What about if we told you that the soldiers from Beerstowe have been invited, as well as all the Yanks?”
Polly frowned. “The Yanks won’t come. They came that once to the village hall dance, remember? They stayed long enough to eat up all the sandwiches, then they left and went down the pub. Never danced one dance, they didn’t. Just stood around looking like a bunch of strays caught in a storm.”
Marlene bounced onto the chair next to her. “They didn’t stay because no one can dance to Awful Ernie’s music. But what if they had real American big band music that they could jive to and jitterbug? They’d bloody well come then, wouldn’t they?”
“Watch your language, Marlene,” Edna warned, still busily peeling potatoes.
“Sorry, Ma.” Marlene leaned forward and dug her nail into Polly’s arm. “You could ask your Sam to come. He’d bring his mates, wouldn’t he?”
Polly felt a shiver of excitement. “He might. I could ask him.” Her smile faded. “Too bad about Clay. You could have asked him, too.”
Marlene’s face sobered, too. “I know. Poor bugger. I keep thinking about him, wondering what happened to him.”
“Probably picked up by the Germans now,” Polly said, feeling sorry for her sister.
Marlene nodded. “Well, that’s war, I suppose. At least he won’t have to fly those planes again. Not like Sam. You must feel ill every time he goes up in them.”
Polly shrugged. “I do, but what’s the use of worrying? If it’s his time, then there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” Her words hid the cold dread she felt every time she thought about Sam taking off with a load of bombs sitting underneath him. He’d been lucky so far. He’d come back in one piece. She refused to think about the unwritten law that said the more times he went up, the more likely his number would eventually be up.
Thinking about Sam reminded her of something. “Well, I’ve got big news meself tonight,” she announced.
Edna spun around with a look of alarm on her face. “I hope it’s good news,” she said, shaking her potato peeler at Polly. “I hope you’ve been behaving yourself.”
Polly snorted. “’Course I have. Haven’t had much chance to do anything else.”
“And you’d better not do anything else, or your father will hear of it.”
“Aw, Ma, would you shut up nagging at me.” Polly leaned back in her chair. “You should be proud of me for what I done.”
Edna immediately looked suspicious, while Marlene’s eyes lit up. “Go on, what did you do, then?”
“I got hired to be Lady Elizabeth’s secretary, that’s what,” Polly proudly declared. “So what do you think of that, then?”
“You never did!” Marlene slapped her palm down on the table, making Polly jump. “I don’t believe it.”
“Is this true, Polly?” Edna demanded. She looked pleased in spite of the doubt in her voice.
“’Course it’s true.” Polly hooked her thumbs into her hair and pulled it back from her face. “Now I’ll have to put my hair up proper all the time.”
“Are you getting paid more money?”
Polly pulled a face at Marlene. “Not yet, but I will when I learn everything.”
“When did this happen?” Edna asked, still sounding suspicious.
“This morning.” Polly sat up straight again. “I asked Lady Elizabeth if I could help out in the office, and she said yes.”
“Instead of cleaning the house?”
“No, I’ve still got to clean, but at least I’ll be doing secretary’s work some of the time.”
Marlene grinned. “You must really like that Sam.”
“Just who is this Sam?” Edna demanded.
Polly scowled at her sister. “The American officer who gives me a lift home at night. He’s staying at the Manor House, and he’s a friend of Lady Elizabeth’s.”
Edna’s eyes narrowed. “Just how old is this Sam?”
“Aw, Ma, I don’t know, do I. He’s just someone her ladyship asked to give me a lift ’cause she’s worried about me riding me bike past the woods at night.”
“Doesn’t sound so innocent to me. How long has this been going on? What about your bike?”
“Just last night and tonight. He puts me bike in the back of the Jeep so I have it for the mornings. It’s all right, Ma. Sam’s a proper gentleman. He wouldn’t do nothing, honest.” Polly crossed her fingers under the table. Maybe it wasn’t exactly the truth, but she was scared to death her mother would forbid her to see Sam again if she knew just how much her youngest daughter cared about the handsome officer.
“Well, just make sure there’s no hanky-panky going on between you,” Edna muttered, turning back to the sink. She lifted the pot of potatoes and dumped it on the stove. “Are you two girls going to help us decorate tonight? I think most of Rita’s group is helping out.”
“I’ve got to wash some clothes,” Marlene said, getting up from the table. “I want to hang them out on the line tonight now that it’s stopped raining.”
“Me, too,” Polly said, getting excited again about jitterbugging with Sam. “I wonder if I can talk Sam into getting us some nylons for the dance?”
Marlene grinned. “Play your cards right, me girl, and you can talk him into anything you want.”
“Here!” Edna said sharply. “I don’t want none of that talk in this house.”
“Oh, go on, Ma, you worry too much.” Marlene slapped her mother playfully on the back as she went past her. “I’m going to sort out some clothes before supper.”
Polly sprang to her feet. “Me, too. I have to decide what I’m going to wear on Saturday.”
“Just don’t bring trouble home to this house,” Edna muttered. “Neither of you. Or I’ll wash my hands of you.”
Polly knew what she meant. She’d heard it all before. “We won’t, Ma,” she promised automatically and followed Marlene upstairs to pick out her dress for the dance.
Alone in the library, Elizabeth surveyed the mound of garlands and silk flowers that had decorated the Manor House for longer than she remembered. There was far too much for her to carry on her motorcycle. She smiled when the solution occurred to her.
She had to visit the east wing in order to issue the invitation to the dance. She had already called the American base and the camp in Beerstowe to inform them of the event, but she wanted to invite the major and his officers personally. That way she could be fairly certain that they would feel under some obligation to attend. If the major happened to be in the east wing when she went up there, she could ask him to help her take the decorations over to the town hall.
And if not, she reminded herself as she hurried down the great hall, she could always ask that nice Sam Cutter, who had been kind enough to give Polly a ride home these past two nights. Having convinced herself that she was not simply making up excuses to see the major again, she felt quite pleased with the way things were working out.
She was halfway down the hall when she thought she saw something moving at the far end. The double summertime provided daylight hours until quite late, and the sun was just beginning to sink in the evening sky. The long shadows cast from the two suits of armor stretched from wall to wall, and it was in those shadows that Elizabeth thought she saw movement.
Even as she paused there, beneath the portrait of the first Lord Hartleigh and his wife, she felt a strong, cold draft of wind brush her face. Startled, she stepped back, her fingers jumping to her cheek. None of the windows opened along this stretch of the hall, and the doors at both ends were securely fastened. Yet there was an unmistakable draft blowing from somewhere.
The shadows moved again, and what appeared to be a faint mist seemed to blow across them. It hovered there for no more than a second or two, then vanished.
Elizabeth blinked. It had all happened so fast she was certain now that she must have imagined it. All this talk of ghosts had unsettled her nerves. There were no such things as ghosts. Or even if there were, surely they waited until nightfall to make an appearance. She really had to stop listening to Martin’s ramblings.
In spite of her convictions, she trod warily down the length of the hall until she reached the door that led to the east wing. As she stretched out her hand, a terrible gargling noise, followed by a shuddering and rattling, almost shot her out of her skin. Without another second’s delay she hauled open the door and fled through it.
Her common sense told her that it was just the water pipes complaining because someone had used the lavatory. Her shattered nerves, however, propelled her forward at full steam. Head down, she charged around the corner and ran smack into a sturdy body.
Temporarily winded, she heard a startled “Ouf!” as her unfortunate companion lost the air from his lungs. She didn’t have to look up to know she’d charged straight into Earl Monroe’s stomach.
“I say,” she muttered, “I’m terribly sorry. I’m afraid I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you all right?”
She was afraid to look at him. For one thing she was standing much too close to him. Close enough to smell a quite unusual fragrance. Very pleasant. Had to be American. British men didn’t smell nearly that good. Not the ones she’d been anywhere close to, that was.
Something else she noticed, which didn’t help to calm her nerves one bit, was that she was held in a quite firm grip. He’d grabbed her arms to steady her when she’d barreled into him. He hadn’t let go. She could feel his fingers right through the sleeves of her silk blouse. For several seconds she remained motionless, while her heart pounded.
“We could use you on our football team,” he said at last, mercifully removing his hands from her tingling arms. “You pack a real wallop, ma’am.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Something startled me.” She smoothed her fingers down her skirt, even though there were no wrinkles to be seen.
“Wouldn’t happen to be the belching in those water pipes, now would it?”
She risked a guilty glance at him. Although she was prepared for her reaction, her stomach still managed to complete a somersault. What on earth was it about the man that reduced her insides to limp spaghetti every time she looked at him? “I’m sorry. They do make a ghastly noise, I’m afraid.”
“So where’s the fire?”
Confused, she said uncertainly, “I beg your pardon?”
“Where were you going in such a hurry?”
“Oh!” She hesitated, reluctant to tell him she was actually looking for him. She didn’t want to give him the idea that she was in that great a hurry to find him. “Actually,” she said slowly, “I was coming to offer your officers an invitation.”
His quizzical look was almost comical. “You’re going to invite them all to dinner?”
“No, to dance,” she said hurriedly.
“You want to dance with my officers?”
No, just one of them. She’d almost said the words out loud. “Not to dance, Major. To a dance. Saturday at the town hall. Actually I want to invite everyone on the base. Those who have passes, of course.”
His eyebrows raised. “You want to take on the entire outfit?”
“Well, not me personally.” She had the feeling he was making fun of her. Raising her chin, she said firmly, “We’re inviting the soldiers from Beerstowe as well. And the land army. Of course, most of the villagers will probably be there.”
“Sort of ‘meet the forces’ day in Sitting Marsh.”
“If you like. We are concerned about the brawling that goes on between the British army and the Americans. I’m afraid the villagers haven’t helped with their somewhat biased attitudes. We thought it might be a good idea to get everyone together in a social atmosphere so they can get to know each other a little better.”
“Hmmm.” He rubbed his chin. “Well, I guess we could give it a try, though I have to tell you, Lady Elizabeth, unless you hide the beer and liquor you could end up with a heck of a battle on your hands. Those boys need to let off steam, and that’s one sure way of doing it.”
“Oh, dear.” Elizabeth’s hand rose to her throat. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to take that chance. Which is why I was hoping you’d be able to attend. Sort of keep an eye on things, as it were.”
Major Monroe’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Is that the only reason you’re inviting me, Lady Elizabeth?”
“Well… no, I mean… of course, I’d be delighted… er… I’d appreciate it very much if you could come.”
He nodded, his sharp gaze never leaving her face. “I’ll come on condition that you promise me a dance.”
If she’d been flustered before, it was nothing compared to her confusion now. Her hand gripped her throat until she was in dire danger of choking, while she struggled to regain her composure. When she deemed it safe to speak again, she said carefully, “I’d be delighted, Major.”
He inclined his head in a slight bow. “My pleasure. I’d be real happy, ma’am, if you’d allow me to escort you there in my Jeep.”
“Oh! Well, that would be very nice. Thank you.” She made a mental note to be sure and tie a scarf around her hair. “Shall we meet around eight in the library?”
“Eight it is.”
She couldn’t seem to stop smiling at him. Feeling quite foolish, she cleared her throat loudly. “Yes, well, that’s settled then. I’ll leave it up to you to invite the other officers. The more we have, the more likely we can keep everything under control.”
“The good Lord willing.”
He’d put so much fervor into that muttered phrase she had cause for alarm again. All she could hope was that they were not all making a terrible mistake. She was about to bid him good night when she remembered her other reason for seeking him out. “I do have one more small favor to ask,” she said, smiling up at him. “I have a rather large pile of decorations that I need to take down to the town hall. I was wondering if you might spare a few minutes and give me a lift down there in your Jeep. There are too many to pile into the sidecar on my motorcycle.”
The major glanced at his watch. “As a matter of fact, I was just leaving for the base. I can drop you off on the way.”
“Splendid! I’ll meet you by the front steps, then. It won’t take more than a minute or two to pick up the box.”
“I have a better idea. I’ll come with you and get the box so you won’t have to carry it.”
“That’s terribly gallant of you, Major. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
She hurried to keep up with his long stride as they headed down the great hall to the main stairs. As they passed the suits of armor, she peered at them rather hard but couldn’t see anything unusual about them. It all must have been a trick of the light just then, she assured herself.
“I’ll round up a few bottles of Scotch for the dance if you like,” Monroe offered as they descended the staircase together.
Vastly relieved she hadn’t had to ask him after all, she exclaimed, “Oh, would you? That would be marvelous. We’ll pay you for them, of course, out of the proceeds.”
He nodded. “How will you get back from the town hall?”
“Pardon?” She sent him a startled glance. That thought hadn’t even occurred to her. Where was her mind wandering to lately?
“Well, you can’t walk all that way back. Especially at night with a murderer on the loose.” He looked sideways at her. “I guess they haven’t found the German yet?”
“No, they haven’t. Apparently he’d been hiding out at the Macclesby’s farm, but by the time the soldiers got there, he was long gone. I was talking to the army captain on the phone just now, and he thinks the German has probably left the area. I think they are calling off the search and leaving it to the police to handle.”
“Well, England is a pretty small country. There can’t be too many Germans wandering around. He’ll be picked up sooner or later.”
“I suppose so. It does leave things sort of up in the air, though, doesn’t it?” Elizabeth paused at the library door. “I suppose we shall never know now who killed poor Amelia Brunswick.”
The voice came from nowhere, startling them both. “What are you doing! Halt there, I say!”
The quavery command had come from behind them, and both of them swung around.
Looking a little like a giant ant in his black morning coat, Martin advanced upon them at the speed of a tortoise, brandishing what appeared to be the blunderbuss from her father’s collection of antique guns.
“What the devil-!” Earl Monroe immediately stepped in front of Elizabeth, shielding her from Martin’s sight.
Terribly gratified by this show of heroism, Elizabeth basked for a moment in the unfamiliar glow of feeling thoroughly cherished and protected. It had been a long time since anyone had acted so chivalrously toward her.
Major Monroe’s back was quite broad and hid Martin from view. His voice, however, could be heard quite plainly. “Unhand that lady this instant, sir, or I shall be forced to put a cannonball into your intestines.”
Elizabeth winced and stepped out from behind Earl Monroe’s comforting frame. “It’s all right, Major,” she assured him. “It isn’t loaded.” She took a step forward into Martin’s path and held out her hand. “Give me the gun, Martin. As you can see, I’m in no danger. Major Monroe is our guest.”
Martin peered over the top of his glasses. “I beg your pardon, madam, but I believe you’ve been misled. This is the German officer everyone is looking for. You can see his uniform is most certainly not British.” He raised the gun and jabbed it in the major’s direction. “Have at you, sir!”
“Are you quite sure it’s not loaded?” Earl Monroe asked with just a trace of uncertainty in his voice.
“Quite,” Elizabeth said confidently. “Even if it were it probably wouldn’t fire. It hasn’t been fired for centur-” Her words ended in a piercing scream as a deafening roar rattled the chandelier above her head.
At the same time a cloud of smoke billowed from the end of the gun, and Martin was lifted off his feet. Elizabeth just had time to see him land with a thud on his back when something hit her hard between the shoulder blades. The force of the weight behind her thrust her face down onto the carpet.
Momentarily stunned, she realized the heavy weight was still on top of her, pinning her down. Part of her mind registered the dust rising from the carpet under her nose, and she made a mental note to remind Polly to vacuum the carpet first thing in the morning.
Her mind cleared an instant later, and she realized she was in danger of expiring from lack of breath, since her lungs were crushed by the mysterious weight on her back. She heard a faint groan further down the hall then a pattering of feet running toward them.
Violet’s voice sounded incredulous when she exclaimed, “What in the world are you all doing on the floor?”
The weight on her back shifted, and Elizabeth raised her head. A few feet away, Martin lay on his back, the gun still in his grip and pointing straight at the ceiling.
“You okay?”
The major’s voice spoke directly in her ear, and she realized it was his body lying full-length on top of her. Slowly she swiveled her head and met Violet’s amused gaze.
“Well,” the housekeeper said with a hint of smugness, “how nice to see you making the Yanks feel so much at home.”