Martin looked confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind." Elizabeth got up from the table. "Violet, I'm going to Priscilla's flat. I have the proofs from the wedding and I need to drop them off there."

Martin began struggling to his feet, muttering something under his breath.

"Can't I see them first?" Violet wiped her hands on her ap.r.o.n. "If I remember rightly, I had a nice one taken with Charlie."

Elizabeth stared at her, intrigued to see her housekeeper blus.h.i.+ng. "Why, Violet, I do believe you're beginning to care for Charlie Gibbons. Are you going out with him again?"

Violet did her best to appear unconcerned, but the fluttering of her hands gave her away. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Gibbons is thinking of moving to Sitting Marsh. He likes the village and the people here, and it will mean he'll be close to his brother and his new sister-in-law."

Elizabeth smiled. "How nice for you, Violet. It's about time you had a gentleman friend. Everyone needs someone to care for and cherish."

Martin, who had finally steadied himself on his feet, sniffed. "Now, I suppose, we shall have to listen to a lot of sentimental drivel about gentleman friends and clandestine rendezvous."

"Better than listening to you bleat about your lottery lady," Violet snapped.

Fortunately the telephone rang, putting an end to what might have been a lengthy argument. Violet picked up the telephone and spoke into it.

Elizabeth waited, hoping against hope, yet afraid to expect too much.

Violet pulled the receiver away from her ear and looked at her. "It's your major."

Fighting to hide her apprehension, Elizabeth took the telephone and murmured a breathless, "Earl? Is everything all right?"

His rich voice rea.s.sured her. "Everything's fine. I just thought you'd like to know what your kidnappers were up to at the base last night."

"Oh, dear." Elizabeth pressed the receiver to her ear and tried to forget there were others in the room. "I hope they didn't do too much damage."

"They burned down the rec room. According to the note they left, their girlfriends had abandoned them in favor of GIs, and they weren't too happy about it."

"Oh, Lord. I am so sorry, Earl. Is it at all salvageable?"

"Not much of it. We'll have to rebuild. The guys are going to miss that place. Those little thugs couldn't have picked a better payback."

"It's a shame. n.o.body deserved that."

"There's something else you need to know."

Something in his voice warned her. "What is it?"

"There's some heavy hush-hush meetings going on. Everyone's being confined to the base. It may be a week or so before I can leave."

She swallowed. "Is it the invasion?"

"Elizabetha""

"I know, you can't tell me. I shouldn't have asked."

"I'll be back just as soon as I can. You know that."

"Yes, I do." She pulled in her breath. "G.o.d speed, Earl. Take care of yourself."

"I'll be fine. I'm still carrying your scarf, by the way. The one you gave me when I left last year. It goes everywhere with me."

Somehow she wasn't consoled by that. It was the first time he'd mentioned it since he'd been back. It sounded like an omen. "I'm glad to hear that. I pray it will keep you safe."

"It has so far." He lowered his voice. "I have to go. I'll call when I can."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. Unable to trust her voice for more than a couple of words, she said quickly, "Till we meet again."

"So long, sweetheart."

She replaced the receiver, already feeling the loss. "Don't hold off lunch for me," she told Violet, as she headed for the door. "I might be late. I'll bring back some fish and chips."

"Fish and chips!"

Martin looked so hopeful she had to smile. "All right, I'll bring them back for all of us. Though you might have to wait a bit longer. The girls might not like that."

"The girls are servants, madam. They'll do as they're told."

"Don't tell them that." Elizabeth reached the door and opened it. "Polly informed me that domestics, as they are now called, don't like being referred to as servants."

"It was good enough for their forefathers, it's good enough for them today."

"I'm afraid not, Martin." Elizabeth sent him an affectionate smile. "The world is changing, whether we like it or not. We will have to change with it."

Martin drew himself up as straight as his bowed shoulders allowed. "Never! There will always be an England, as long as we defend her sh.o.r.es and carry on her traditions!"

"Oh, Gawd, now he'll start caterwauling," Violet muttered, giving him a dirty look.

Elizabeth closed the door behind her, her smile fading. Traditions. How many was she breaking with her pa.s.sion for Earl Monroe? How many more would she break before it was over? It was something she couldn't think about now.

She hurried outside, disheartened by the sight of a clear blue sky. Once she had loved the good weather, so rare in that part of the country. But that was before the war. Before clear skies allowed airplanes to fly, taking courageous young men into danger and, far too often, to their deaths.

Astride her motorcycle, she roared down the hill to the High Street. Pulling up outside the police station, she was relieved to see George and Sid's bicycles leaning against the wall. She had made a promise to Earl, and this time she would keep it.

She found George at his desk as usual and quickly explained why she needed him with her.

"Right," he said, when she was finished. Raising his voice, he called out, "Sid, take over here. I have some business to take care of with her ladys.h.i.+p."

"You found the boys that burned down the Yanks' gym?" Sid asked, as he emerged from the back room.

"I'm afraid not." Elizabeth exchanged glances with George. "They are somewhere in North Horsham, I presume. I'm sure you'll catch up with them sooner or later."

"I doubt it," George said, as he pulled on his helmet. "The case has been taken over by the North Horsham constabulary. It seems the Americans put in a rather strong complaint."

"One can hardly blame them," Elizabeth murmured. She waited for George to open the door for her, then hurried outside to her motorcycle. "Can you manage to squeeze yourself into the sidecar again?" she asked as George approached.

"Not on your life, your ladys.h.i.+p. I'll be quite happy on my bicycle, thank you."

"But we will get there so much more quickly."

"I'll manage very well on my own. Thank you, m'm." George walked over to his bicycle and bent over to fasten a clip around each ankle. "I'll be right behind you when you get there. You'll see."

Seriously doubting that, Elizabeth had to give in gracefully. She rode slowly down to the Tudor Arms. Even so, by the time she arrived there George was nowhere to be seen. Impatient now, she rang the bell on the back door and waited for Alfie to open it.

His bushy eyebrows shot up at the sight of her. "Lady Elizabeth! Whatever . . . ?"

"I'd like a word with Malcolm," she said, giving him no time to form the question. "Is he here?"

"Afraid you've just missed him." Curiosity was written all over his face, but he knew better than to ask. "I do believe he's on his way to see his lady friend, Fiona."

"Thank you, Alfie." Elizabeth turned away, then added over her shoulder, "Oh, when George turns up, tell him where I've gone, will you?"

"George is coming here?"

Hearing his bewilderment, she wished she had time to explain. "He's following me," she said, climbing back onto her motorcycle. "Do tell him to hurry, won't you?" She roared off, drowning out whatever Alfie was saying.

It took her several minutes to reach the flat. Priscilla lived above the ironmongery and normally the shop would have been busy. However, since the war had taken many of the men who purchased the tools and gardening implements, business was no longer brisk. Which suited Elizabeth. She did not need a large audience to witness her visit, or the outcome.

Fiona opened the door to her knock, obviously taken aback by the lady of the manor's second visit in as many days. Again she seemed reluctant to allow Elizabeth to enter, but was left with no choice when her guest deliberately walked through the door and into the cramped front room.

At least the room looked more tidy than when she'd last visited, Elizabeth observed. Malcolm Ludwick sat on the couch, reading a newspaper. He leapt to his feet when Elizabeth walked in, and his expression was not too welcoming. He greeted her in a surly tone of voice and offered her a seat.

Hoping fervently that George wasn't too far behind, Elizabeth sat on the couch. "I quite forgot the reason for my visit yesterday," she said, as Fiona perched on the arm of the chair that Malcolm now occupied. "I had the proofs of the wedding with me, and I meant to leave them with you. I'm afraid I'm becoming quite scatterbrained lately." She drew the packet from her handbag and handed them to Fiona. "They are quite lovely. I'm sure Priscilla will be most pleased. Have you heard from her, by the way?"

"Not yet, your ladys.h.i.+p. There hasn't been enough time for a postcard to reach us from Scotland." Fiona took out the proofs and started thumbing through them.

"Oh, of course not." Elizabeth laughed. "How silly of me. It seems much longer since she and Wally went on their honeymoon. Time drags so much these days. I suppose we're all waiting for the Allied invasion to take place. One rather hopes that it will end the war, though I suppose that's wishful thinking for the most part."

She smiled at Malcolm and felt a chill when she saw his narrowed gaze on her face.

"Well, thank you very much, your ladys.h.i.+p." Fiona stood up, the proofs still in her hand. "I appreciate you bringing these over. Priscilla will be thrilled to find them waiting for her when she gets home."

"I imagine they are having a marvelous time in Scotland," Elizabeth said, leaning back on the couch. "Although the weather can be quite beastly this time of year. I do think they might have done better to have gone to Somerset or Cornwall. So much warmer down there."

Fiona seemed at a loss what to do next. She glanced at Malcolm, who still had his gaze pinned on Elizabeth's face. "Er . . . I suppose I should offer you a cup of tea," she said, making it clear it was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Oh, that sounds lovely!" Elizabeth glanced at the small clock on the mantelpiece. Where the devil was George? He should have been here by now.

"Actually, we were just on the way out," Malcolm said, getting to his feet. "So if you would excuse us, your ladys.h.i.+pa""

"Of course." Elizabeth made no effort to move. "I'm so glad you are here, Mr. Ludwick. Before you go, I have a question I'd like to ask you."

She could see it in his eyes. The guilt, underlined with fear. She'd seen that look before. The question was, could she get him to confess what he'd done?

He pretended to be puzzled, though she was quite sure he knew what she was talking about. "Question?"

"Yes." She smiled at him. She could only stall for so long. If George didn't get there very soon, she could be walking into trouble again. Earl would not like that. "When George talked to you at the weddinga""

"Excuse me," he interrupted. "George?"

"Yes." Elizabeth met his gaze. "Police Constable George Dalrymple."

She saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. "Oh, yes, I think I remember. Bald-headed chap. Bit of a b.u.mbler."

Elizabeth smiled. "I suppose he is, at times. Anyway, I seem to remember you telling him that you overheard Tess Winterhalter arguing with the deceased that afternoon. Furious with him, I believe you said?"

Malcolm appeared reluctant to answer, and Fiona answered for him. "That's right, Malcolm. I heard you say that. I remember being surprised that you knewa""

"Shut up!" Malcolm snarled.

Fiona reared back as if she'd been struck, one hand at her mouth.

Elizabeth saw the dawning realization in the woman's eyes and felt sorry for her. Turning back to Malcolm, she said quietly, "You overheard Tess accusing him of taking Fiona to his room, didn't you? You probably saw her threaten him with the knife then lock him in the cellar. Maybe the idea came to you then. Here was your chance to get rid of your rival and blame it on the young girl who was so angry with her boyfriend."

Malcolm apparently was prepared to bluff his way out. "Utter poppyc.o.c.k! I barely knew the chap. As for him being a rival, that's utter nonsense."

"Is it?" Elizabeth smiled. "I think not. Fiona is a woman of means, and you weren't about to lose your benefactor to a two-faced schemer like Brian Sutcliffe. When you heard that Fiona had been to his room, you were afraid he'd charm her away from you. You were presented with a chance to solve that problem and you took it."

Fiona gasped. "No! I don't believe it!"

"Good," Malcolm said roughly. "Because it isn't true. Yes, I heard the bridesmaid arguing with Sutcliffe, but I left right away. Didn't want to embarra.s.s the girl. I never went back into the kitchen after that."

"What were you doing there in the first place?"

"I was getting Fiona a gla.s.s of water."

"That's right," Fiona said quickly. "I was thirsty and wanted some water."

Elizabeth nodded. "And you never went back to the kitchen after that?"

"No, of course I didn't."

She glanced at the clock again. George had to be close by now. "That's strange. My butler told me he met you in the kitchen. Apparently he was looking for wine and you told him there was none in the cellar."

The icy calm that crept into his eyes unsettled her. "That's right, I remember now. I met him on the way out."

"But that had to be later. Martin said you were alone, which meant Tess had already left the kitchen."

"Perhaps it was. I don't remember." He turned and grasped Fiona's arm, so tightly she let out a gasp of pain. "Now, if you'll excuse us, your ladys.h.i.+p, we really do have to leave."

"I'm just curious, Mr. Ludwick. How did you know there was no wine in the cellar?"

Fiona tugged at her arm, but instead of letting go, he held her tighter, making her wince. "I didn't," he said shortly. "I told the old boy that because I was afraid he'd go looking for wine and fall and hurt himself."

Elizabeth got slowly to her feet. "I don't think so," she said firmly. "I think you went back later, thinking that Brian Sutcliffe was still locked in the cellar. You found the door was open and went in to investigate. I believe you found him at the foot of the stairs, having fallen, perhaps unconscious. You saw the knife and stabbed him with it. Then you left. You told Martin there was no wine down there to get rid of him. You couldn't have him finding the body while you were still there. It was too risky."