The police station was tucked behind a row of shops at the very end of the High Street. The small, white-brick building had once served as a stables when horses were the popular mode of transport. Although the renovation into headquarters for the local constabulary had taken place at least twenty years ago, Elizabeth swore she could still smell horses whenever she walked into the damp, musty room used as the front office.
The chair behind the deeply scarred desk was empty, but voices could be heard muttering behind the closed door of the back room. Whatever the conversation was about, it had to be meaningful, since no one, apparently, had heard the tinkling of the bell on the door.
Elizabeth coughed loudly. The voices continued without a break. Growing impatient, she peeled off one of her gloves and rapped on the desk with her knuckles.
The voices stopped abruptly, and a second or two later the door opened. P.C. George Dalrymple’s round, benevolent face appeared in the gap. Upon sight of his visitor, the door widened, and he hurried forward. “Lady Elizabeth! I’m so sorry, m’m. Didn’t hear you come in. Have you been waiting long?”
“Not too long.” Without waiting to be asked, Elizabeth plopped herself down on the visitor’s chair. “I tried to ring you, but there was no answer.”
George’s eyes slid sideways. “Oh, yes, well, we just got back, Sid and I. Had a bit of business to take care of in town.”
“That business wouldn’t have anything to do with a young lady from the Macclesby farm, by any chance?”
George’s gaze snapped back to her face, and he drew a hand across the shiny bald dome of his head. “Ah, well, I’m not at liberty to say, m’m.”
Elizabeth crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap. “Now, George, you know perfectly well that you can’t keep anything a secret in this village. I heard that the body of a land girl has been found in the woods. Am I correct?”
“I’d like very much to know how you found out about that, m’m, if you don’t mind me asking?”
So it was true. Elizabeth’s heart sank. “I found out the same way one finds out about everything going on in Sitting Marsh.” She fixed a stern eye on George’s worried face. “You might as well stop worrying about giving me information, George. The local grapevine is only a half step behind you.”
“That may well be, m’m, but I’d be breaking the rules if I told you anything about the investigation at this point.”
Elizabeth sighed. She had played this game so often. She’d have to pry the information out of him. Fortunately that wasn’t as difficult as George would have her believe. “So you do admit there is an investigation going on, then?”
George lifted his face to the ceiling. “I think we can safely say that.”
“And the dead body of a land girl was found in the woods?”
“I’m not denying that.”
“From the Macclesby farm?”
“I believe that might be so.”
“Do you know her name?”
“I believe we do.”
“Can you at least give me her first name?”
George laced his fingers across his chest. “She had a hankie with her initials embroidered on it. First two letters of the alphabet.”
“AB?”
He nodded.
“Do you have any suspects?”
He lowered his chin. “If I did, m’m, it might be a little difficult bringing him to justice. Since he’s disappeared, if you get my meaning.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Are you talking about the German pilot who escaped yesterday?”
“Seems that way.”
“What makes you think he’s the killer?”
He shrugged. “Right place at the wrong time, mostly. Can’t be too many dangerous criminals running around Hawthorn Woods.”
“So you have no real proof.”
George looked uncomfortable. “Who else would want to cut open a young girl’s head with an axe? Only someone who didn’t want to be taken prisoner, that’s who. She was killed some time last night. The same day a German pilot lands in the village and escapes into the woods. Too much of a coincidence if you ask me.”
Elizabeth thought about the young man standing shivering on the village green. “You found the axe?”
“No, m’m. Not yet. We reckon he buried it in the woods. We’re asking the army blokes to help us find it. They’re already looking for him, so it’ll just be a matter of time-” He broke off and slapped a hand over his mouth. “You didn’t hear me say any of that.”
“I heard you bloody say all of that,” Sid’s deep voice said from the back room.
Elizabeth rose. “Don’t worry, George. I won’t pass any of it on. Has anyone been out to the farm to inform Sheila Macclesby?”
“Not yet, m’m. The next of kin have to be informed first. Then we have to make arrangements to recover the body.”
“Well, why don’t you do that, and I’ll run over and let Sheila know. If she doesn’t know already.”
George looked doubtful, and Elizabeth forestalled any objections he might raise.
“I’m going out that way, anyway,” she said firmly as she crossed the room to the door. “I’ll save you the trip. I’ll tell Sheila you’ll be out to ask her some questions later.”
“Well, I don’t know as if that’s a good idea-”
“I think you should get on the phone right away and ring those poor parents,” Elizabeth said gently. “I’m sure they’ll want to make arrangements to come down here.”
George’s expression changed, and Elizabeth felt a pang of sympathy. It had to be so difficult to break such beastly news. She left quickly, before George could come up with a good reason why she couldn’t go out to the Macclesby farm. She very much wanted the chance to talk to Sheila before George added the woman to his official investigation. People tended to talk more freely if they thought they were simply gossiping.
On the way out there, Elizabeth did her best to curb the feeling of anticipation. A young girl had been brutally murdered, and this was no time to rejoice in the fact that she was hot on the trail of a murderer. Yet she couldn’t contain the feeling of excitement at once more being involved in a murder case.
Ever since her parents had died two years earlier, she had struggled to take her father’s place in the village. Having lived in London until then, it had taken a great deal of effort to overcome the mistrust of the tenants in Sitting Marsh. She could understand their reluctance to accept her as their new administrator. The vast estate of the Manor House, which included the cottages in the village and the land upon which the High Street and its shops were built, had been overseen by earls for centuries.
This was the first time the village’s main benefactor and protector had been a woman, and the daughter of a commoner, no less. Although Elizabeth had grown up at the Manor House, she had always been aware of a certain undercurrent whenever she had been in contact with the villagers. From the moment she inherited the Manor House and its holdings, she’d been determined to wipe out that aura of distrust.
She had worked hard, forming committees and making sure she was accessible to everyone who lived on the estate. She had literally gone from house to house, meeting all her tenants face-to-face, doing her best to answer all of their concerns. Her dedication had paid off, and with the exception of one or two dissidents, she now felt reasonably certain of being accepted and respected by the villagers of Sitting Marsh.
The two world wars had changed many things, including the place that nobility had once held. No one was more aware of that than Elizabeth. She used it to her advantage, establishing her rightful place in the village without the traditional barriers. Yet her ancestral home stood as a symbol of the old world, and she knew that most inhabitants of Sitting Marsh found comfort in that.
She had pledged her life to serve her people, but her struggle to maintain the Manor House, thanks to the squandering of her inheritance by her ex-husband, was painful and often thankless. Helping the constabulary to solve a murder gave her something meaningful-a sense of achievement and an excitement in her life that at times seemed so dreary without her parents.
Reaching the farmhouse, Elizabeth parked her motorcycle outside of the main gates. No one was about in the yard as she approached the weathered porch. The land girls were already out in the fields, and no doubt Maurice, Sheila Macclesby’s son, would be busy in the cowsheds.
Elizabeth lifted the lion’s head door knocker and let it fall with a loud rap. It was some time before the door opened and a tousled head peered around it.
“Good morning!” Elizabeth said brightly. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Oh, my.” The woman clutched the neck of her faded dressing gown. “Lady Elizabeth! Whatever is the time?” She twisted her head to look back into the room. “I had no idea it was so late. Please come in, if you’ll excuse the mess.”
She pulled the door open wider, and Elizabeth stepped past her into a large living room dominated by a low-beamed ceiling.
“I do apologize,” Sheila Macclesby said, closing the door again. “I think I’m catching a cold or something. The only time I oversleep is when I’m ill.” She glanced across the room to where a large mantel clock sat above a roomy fireplace. “I wonder why Maurice didn’t wake me.”
“Perhaps he wanted you to rest,” Elizabeth said kindly. She was being diplomatic. Maurice Macclesby had fallen from the roof of a barn when he was four years old. The accident had left him lame in one leg and damaged his brain. Maurice’s mind had never progressed much beyond childhood. Even so, he managed to do his fair share of the farm work, and Elizabeth admired him greatly for rising above his limitations.
“He must be wondering where I am.” Sheila waved a hand at a roomy couch. “Sit down, Lady Elizabeth. Would you care for some tea?”
“Thank you, no.” Now that she was here, Elizabeth was feeling decidedly uneasy. The bad news she had brought was bound to be a great shock to Sheila. “Have you heard from Walter lately?”
Sheila sat down on a dining room chair with a thump. “Wally? I got a letter from him a few days ago, from Belgium. He’s all right, isn’t he?”
Annoyed with herself, Elizabeth hastened to reassure her. “As far as I know. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Then, if you don’t mind my asking, m’m, why are you here?”
Sheila still had that drawn look on her face-and a pallor that suggested she might be right about catching a cold. Feeling immensely sorry for the poor woman, Elizabeth said gently, “I’m afraid I do have bad news, Sheila. One of your land girls was found dead in the woods this morning.”
“No!” Sheila’s hand flew to her throat. “My God. Who would do such a thing?”
“That hasn’t been determined yet. P.C. Dalrymple will be along a little later on to ask you some questions, but I wanted to let you know what had happened to her. You must be wondering.”
“Wondering?”
“Why she didn’t come home last night. The constable believes she was killed last night.”
“Oh.” Sheila shook her head, as if trying to clear her mind. “Well, I wouldn’t know, would I. Since I haven’t been outside the house yet this morning, I wouldn’t know one was missing, and they often come in late at night after I’m asleep. As a matter of fact, I heard Amelia talking to someone outside my bedroom window late last night long after I’d gone to bed.”
“Amelia?”
Sheila looked confused again. “Amelia Brunswick. She’s one of the land girls. Arguing with someone, she was.”
A. B. Elizabeth drew a deep breath. “Sheila, I’m sorry to tell you this, but I believe it’s Amelia’s body they found in the woods.”
Sheila stared at her for several seconds. “Oh, no, you can’t mean it. Not Amelia.”
“I’m afraid so.”
Sheila shook her head. “She was such a bright young thing. I can’t believe she’s gone. The others are going to be so upset. Poor Maisie, she’s such a nervous little cow. This will scare her to death.”
“Maisie is one of the land girls?”
Sheila dragged a large handkerchief out of her pocket and loudly blew her nose. “We have four. Or we did until now. Pauline and Kitty are the other two. Oh, whoever done this to poor Amelia should be hung.”
“He probably will be,” Elizabeth said dryly. “Do you happen to know who it was Amelia was talking to last night?”
“No, m’m, I’m afraid I don’t. I only heard Amelia’s voice clearly. The other one was too muffled to even tell if it was a man or a woman. I just stayed in bed and pulled the covers over my ears. After all, it’s none of my business what they get up to in their free time. As long as they do their work around here, I stay out of their private lives.”
“Did Amelia make a habit of coming home late?”
Sheila stared down at the handkerchief and twisted it around her hands. “She liked the boys, I do know that. Always rushing around getting ready to go meet someone, she was. Most of the time I never knew what time she got home. She always got her jobs done, so I never asked.”
“Did she have a special boyfriend?”
“If she did, I wouldn’t know who it was.”
Deciding she wouldn’t learn much more from Sheila, Elizabeth asked, “Where are the other girls now?”
“Out in the fields. We’re tilling them now that the harvesting’s over.”
“I’d like to have a word with them, if I may?”
Sheila glanced at the clock again. “Of course. They should be in for elevenses soon. Which reminds me. I should be getting on with my chores. Just look at me. A farmer’s wife and still in my nightie. What must you think of me.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Even farmers’ wives become ill now and then. Don’t let me keep you, please. I’ll just wait here for the girls while you’re getting dressed, if you don’t mind.”
Sheila rose to her feet, looking flustered. “Not at all, Lady Elizabeth. Make yourself comfortable. There’s the morning newspaper there and a woman’s magazine. I’ll be making some coffee when the girls come in, so perhaps you’d care to join us. I could use your help when I tell them about poor Amelia.”
Elizabeth turned her head as the door opened and a skinny young woman poked her head into the room. “Excuse me, Mrs. Macclesby, but have you seen my spade anywhere? I left it leaning against the wall last night, and now it’s gone.”
Sheila whirled around. “Maisie, how many times have I told you to put your things away when you’ve finished with them? That spade is back in the shed where it belongs. Why is it that the last place you girls look is where something belongs? Next time you leave something lying around outside, I’m going to charge you a shilling to get it back.”
“Yes, Mrs. Macclesby. Sorry.” Maisie’s dark eyes shifted to Elizabeth for a moment, then she withdrew her head and disappeared.
Sheila sighed. “Half these girls they send us don’t know one end of a spade from the other. Most of them don’t have the stamina to work out in the fields all day, and they’re always moaning and complaining about their sore muscles. Still, I suppose we should be grateful for the help now that the men are all off fighting in the trenches.”
“We all have to make sacrifices these days, I’m afraid.” Elizabeth settled herself more comfortably on the couch. “I quite admire those young ladies for volunteering to work on the land. It isn’t easy work, by any means.”
“Maybe not,” Sheila muttered as she crossed the room, “but they get well paid and well fed, and they’re away from all that bombing. That’s a lot to be thankful for, I’d say. Too bad they can’t appreciate that.” She opened the door that led to her narrow hallway. “I won’t be a minute, Lady Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth nodded. She needed time to think about the questions she wanted to ask the girls. She very much wanted to know the name of the person Amelia had spent time with the night before. Surely at least one of the girls should be able to tell her.
Idly she picked up the woman’s magazine from the table in front of her and began leafing through it. Her glance fell on a picture of a man and woman seated at a long table. Each of them held a brimming glass of wine, and candlelight flickered between them as they stared into each other’s eyes.
As she gazed at the picture with an intense fascination, the images changed. She imagined she saw herself seated at that table, staring into the eyes of Earl Monroe.
With a muttered exclamation she slapped the pages closed. She absolutely, definitely, positively could not entertain these silly notions about the major. He would be so embarrassed if he had the slightest inclination that she looked upon him in a certain favorable light.
She would be hideously mortified if he detected one hint that she was feeling anything other than businesslike toward him. The whole idea was so ludicrous she would have laughed out loud if it hadn’t been for the tiny flicker of excitement deep inside her heart.