"With her mother." He looked up, his eyes dull with pain. "I don't know what Daphne will do. Tess is all we have . . ."

"Let us not a.s.sume the worst until we know the truth." Elizabeth rose, bringing Rodney to his feet. "I'll send your wife down to you. I'd rather talk to Tess alone."

He gave her a brief nod. "Very well. I'll think of something to tell her."

She left him alone with his agony, her heart aching.

A few minutes later, she found Tess alone. Daphne, it appeared, had felt the need for some fresh air and was taking a walk. Tess sat fully dressed on the edge of the bed, as if at a loss as to what to do next.

She looked terribly frail and helpless. Her dark eyes seemed to have sunk into her head, and the hollows in her cheeks were even more p.r.o.nounced.

Elizabeth had to stifle the urge to put her arms around the child and hug her. "I thought we'd have a little chat," she said, when the young girl invited her to sit down. "I know you lied last night, when you said you didn't know who went into Brian's room with him."

A large tear squeezed out of Tess's eye and rolled down her cheek. "I didn't want to talk about it," she whispered.

"Why don't you tell me exactly what happened yesterday," Elizabeth said, as gently as she could.

Tess shook her head. "No, I . . . can't."

"I think you know you'll have to talk about it eventually. If not to me, then to the inspector. He'll want to know everything that happened."

Naked fear turned the girl's face white. "What will happen to me?"

Elizabeth felt a spurt of anger for the events that had caused this young girl so much heartache. It wasn't until that moment she realized just how much she'd been hoping she was wrong about Tess's guilt. "That's something we'll have to worry about later," she said, knowing she could offer little hope. "Just tell me what happened. Did he threaten you?"

"I pushed him," Tess said dully. "He was standing in the doorway of the cellar with his back to the steps. I told him I knew about Fiona being in his room and that I didn't want to see him again. He laughed at me and called me a silly little prude. I lost my temper and picked up the knife."

Elizabeth briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again she saw tears rolling down the girl's cheeks.

"I would never have hurt him," Tess whispered. "I thought he would have known that. But he grabbed the knife from me and I was afraid he'd . . ." She gulped and pulled in a deep breath. "I pushed him. He sort of stumbled back and I slammed the door and locked it."

Elizabeth studied the tear-stained face. "And you left the key in the lock?"

Tess's brows drew together as if she didn't understand the question. "I don't know. I suppose so. I didn't take it with me." She started crying in earnest. "He just kept pounding and pounding . . . I ran away. He must have fallen down the stairs in the dark and . . . and stabbed himself." She buried her face in her handkerchief while Elizabeth waited for her to recover some control.

After a while she blew her nose, then laid her hands in her lap and continued. "I went back to the main hall to find Sadie. I saw my father and he asked me why I was upset but I couldn't tell him. I just left him and ran outside. Sadie must have seen me and followed me out there. She persuaded me to go back in until after Wally and Aunt Prissy left. Then I changed my clothes and we walked down to the Tudor Arms where she'd left her bicycle." She looked up, tears still rolling down her face. "I never meant to hurt him. Really I didn't."

"It's all right, Tess." Elizabeth got to her feet. "Try not to worry. I have a feeling this is going to work out all right for you, after all."

She left the girl alone, hoping that her hunch was right. Everything depended on how soon she could talk to the people involved, and how long the inspector would be delayed before he arrived to question the Winterhalters. She could only hope she had enough time.

"Are you getting up, Polly?" Edna Barnett's shrill voice echoed up the narrow staircase. "You'll make us late for church if you don't hurry."

Upstairs in her bedroom, Polly pulled a face at her image in the mirror. "I'm coming!" she yelled back, and picked up the silver-backed hairbrush her mother had given her for Christmas. Pulling it through the tangles in her hair, she wished, as she had a thousand times, that she had Marlene's lovely red curls.

She'd tried putting curlers in her own hair, but she only had to look at the rain and her curls would vanish, leaving her with the same boring flat hair.

She'd thought about getting one of those permanent waves, but the idea of being hooked up by a bunch of wires to a machine terrified her. Besides, if she didn't like the results, she'd have to wait for it all to grow out again and that could take years and years.

Polly sighed and put down the brush. She wished Marlene would come home. She always felt better when her sister was around. Marlene used to cheer her up when she got the miseries. Now there was no one, except Sadie, and she spent most of her time with Joe lately. She missed her dad, too. Even if he was always telling her off.

Polly glanced at the photo of the smiling man in navy uniform that stood on her dressing table. It had been so long since she'd seen Pa she'd almost forgotten what he looked like.

"Polly? Polly! Get down here this minute. If I have to come up there and get you, my girl, I'll box your blinking ears."

"I'm coming! Keep your b.l.o.o.d.y wig on." Polly jumped to her feet, grabbed her handbag and her jacket, and stomped from the room. She was wearing her best high-heeled platform sandals and on the way down the stairs she turned her ankle.

Limping into the kitchen, she felt like crying. Nothing was going right anymore. Nothing at all. It didn't seem worth going to church. G.o.d didn't listen to her prayers anyway. She'd prayed that Sam would come back from America and tell her he'd missed her too much to live without her. She'd prayed that Marlene would be sent back to England. She'd prayed for the war to end and all the soldiers to come back home. None of it had happened. None of it.

"Take that miserable look off your face," Edna Barnett ordered, as the two of them set off for the long walk to the church. "What has a young girl like you got to be so gloomy about?"

"Everything," Polly mumbled. If only Sam hadn't gone and left her. Summer was coming, and she could have looked forward to picnics and rides in the Jeep and walks along the cliffs and cuddling in the car park behind the Tudor Arms. She got a pain in her chest every time she thought about him. When was it going to stop hurting? That's what she'd pray for today. To stop hurting when she thought about Sam. Or maybe even to stop thinking about Sam.

No, she couldn't do that. The thought of banis.h.i.+ng him from her mind altogether was too terrible to contemplate. Even when she'd been going out with Ray, which turned out to be a bad mistake, she'd still thought about Sam. It was as if she kept him in a small piece of her heart, so that whenever she felt sad and lonely, he'd still be there to keep her company. Even if it did still hurt.

Engrossed in her thoughts, she failed to hear what her mother said, until Edna barked, "Did you hear me?"

Polly jumped. "What?"

"I said, I've got something that might cheer you up."

Without much enthusiasm, Polly muttered, "What is it?" Probably a bag of broken biscuits that Ma had bought off ration. Ma always thought that sweets could cure the worst misery. A cup of tea and a biscuit. That was Ma's answer to everything.

"There's a letter came for you yesterday."

Polly stopped short in the road and stared at her mother's back. "A letter? Is it from Sam?"

"No, it's not from America."

Polly lost some of her enthusiasm. "Who's it from? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because it came while we were at the wedding, and then you didn't come home until after I was in bed." Edna paused to look back at her daughter. "I don't know what your father would say if he knew you was coming home late like that. Staying down that pub all hours of the night."

"I wasn't at the pub. I was riding me bicycle along the cliffs."

Edna's face registered shock. "How many times have I told you it's dangerous to be riding along the cliffs at night without lights? Have you forgotten that a young lady died from falling over them cliffs?"

"She didn't fall; she was pushed," Polly said. "Anyhow, who's the letter from. Marlene?"

Edna shook her head.

"Pa?"

"No, I don't know who it's from. I thought it was Marlene at first 'cos it's got a foreign stamp on it. I think it's from Italy, but it's not her writing."

Polly felt a spasm of fear. "What if something's happened to her and someone's writing to tell us about it?"

"They don't write letters," Edna said calmly, though her face looked pale in the sunlight. "They send telegrams. Didn't you send letters to a bunch of soldiers over there?"

Polly blinked, still shaken by the possibility of Marlene being hurt. "Soldiers? Oh, yes! I did! It's been so long I forgot."

Edna started walking away. "Come on, if we don't hurry we'll be late."

"Why didn't you give it to me this morning?" Polly demanded, hurrying as best she could on her high heels to catch up with her mother.

"Because you were taking so long to get ready for church." Edna quickened her steps as Polly drew level. "I knew if I gave it to you then you'd take even longer."

Polly didn't answer. Her mind was buzzing with questions. A few months earlier, she and Sadie had collected letters from villagers and sent them to Marlene who'd promised to give them out to servicemen desperate for news from home. Polly had written a long letter herself, but had never really expected an answer.

She felt a little skip of excitement as she thought about the letter waiting for her. A letter from a mysterious stranger. Who was he? What was he like? How old was he? Where was his home? She could hardly wait now, to read it.

All through the service she kept thinking about it, and had to be nudged twice by her mother when she failed to stand up for the hymns.

At long last the sermon was over, and it wasn't until she was outside the church again that she realized she'd forgotten to pray for the pain to go away when she thought about Sam. That was because she hadn't thought about Sam at all, she realized with a shock.

That upset her at first, but then she started thinking about the letter again and her spirits soared. She couldn't wait to read the letter and find out all about the person who'd sent it. Things were looking up. Life could still be exciting after all.

CHAPTER 5.

When Elizabeth went in search of the Winterhalters, Violet informed her that Daphne had not returned from her walk and Rodney had gone to look for her. Since Elizabeth barely had time to get to the church on her motorcycle in time for the service, she was forced to wait until later before she could talk to Tess's parents.

She'd hoped to see Earl that morning; he often joined her for the Sunday service, but she could see no sign of his dark head as she entered the church. Aware that people were discussing the death of Brian Sutcliffe, she avoided conversation with anyone and left hurriedly as soon as the service was over.

She arrived back at the manor in time to see both Daphne and Rodney strolling up the driveway. The sight of them greatly relieved her. She'd been rather worried that something might have happened to Daphne. Which just proved how easy it was to jump to conclusions.

She waited until the Winterhalters had settled themselves in the library before going in to see them. They both looked up as she entered, with identical expressions of dread on their faces. She hurried to rea.s.sure them.

"I've talked to Tess," she told them, "and I don't think she is responsible for the death of Brian Sutcliffe."

Both parents uttered exclamations, though Rodney looked far more relieved than his wife.

He rose to his feet, one hand raking through his hair. "Did she tell you what happened?"

"Yes, she did." Elizabeth sat on her favorite armchair by the fireplace and smiled at Daphne, who still looked stricken. "I really can't go into it now, as I have many more questions to ask and people to talk to before we can come to any conclusions. As soon as I know something for certain I'll let you know."

"Do you have any idea who might have killed Brian?" Daphne asked, one hand clutching her throat.

"Not at present, no." Elizabeth stood. "But I can a.s.sure you I'll do everything in my power to ferret out the truth."

"Well, if there's anything we can do to help . . ." Rodney walked to the door with her. "I can't thank you enough, Lady Elizabeth. As you can imagine, my wife and I have been out of our minds with worry. I only hope we can solve this mess before the inspector gets here and jumps to the wrong conclusion, as P.C. Dalrymple did."

Heartily agreeing with that sentiment, Elizabeth left them alone and headed for the kitchen. She was eager to have her lunch and then get out of the manor for a while, in order to clear her mind. A brisk stroll across the downs with her two dogs, Gracie and George, bounding along by her side was just what she needed to organize her thoughts.

It wasn't until she was tramping through the long gra.s.s that she allowed herself to think about Earl. He'd been absent a lot lately, and he seemed preoccupied. Which usually meant something big was brewing at the base. Talk of the Allied invasion of Europe had been the main topic of news lately, both in the newspaper and on the wireless. Speculation, of course. No one knew when or even if it would eventually take place.

One thing Elizabeth did know: if there was to be an invasion, Earl would be in the thick of it. The troops landing on the beaches would need air support. Undoubtedly that was the reason he'd been sent back to his base in England. Something else was just as certain. She wouldn't know he'd gone until it was over. One way or another.

The fear that always hovered in the back of her mind surged to the forefront. To lose him now, just when the path ahead of them appeared to be offering a chance for happiness, would be too terrible to bear. She was devastated when he left England the year before, but there had always been a faint hope to cling to, a chance that she would see him again someday. To have him come back to her, only to lose him forever, would destroy her completely. No, it was too awful to even think about.

Her eyes misted with tears, she didn't recognize the figure standing on the edge of the cliffs at first. The dogs, however, had no such reservations and were leaping about with joyous whines and yaps that left no doubt in her mind.

It was as if he'd materialized out of her thoughts, and for a moment she was too full of emotion to speak as she reached him.

"I was on my way back to the manor," he said, holding out his hand. "I saw you across the downs and figured I'd wait for you here." He'd parked the Jeep on the gra.s.s verge a few yards behind him. The dogs scrambled into it, their noses busily sniffing out unfamiliar smells.

Smiling, Elizabeth put her hand in his. "I was just thinking about you."

She'd said it lightly, but the glow in his eyes intensified. "I'm happy to hear that." He squeezed her hand and let it go. "You want to walk?"

She fell into step beside him as he started back across the cliffs away from the manor.

"I don't feel like going back to my quarters just yet," he said, linking her arm through his. "I want to be out here in the sun and the fresh air on a nice, normal. Sunday afternoon. For a while I want to forget everything and everyone and relax with my best girl."

Something about the way he said it brought a chill to her heart. "You're going away," she said, her voice flat with misery.

He glanced at her, his expression hard to read. "Not as far as I know. Not yet, anyway."

"Then what is it?"

He halted and pulled her around to face him. "You know I can't tell you anything specific. It's just that I might not be able to spend much time with you for the next week or two. Things are heating up, and I'll be pretty tied up for a while. I've just got time to pick up my stuff this afternoon and I'm heading back to the base."

The hollow in her stomach grew larger. "The invasion?"

"Elizabeth . . ."

"I know. You can't tell me." She pulled away from him, determined not to let him see her fear. "Well, then," she added stiffly, "we'll just have to talk about something else. What do you think these little pink flowers are called?" She turned her back and walked away from him, gesturing fiercely at the clump of wildflowers growing alongside the railings that lined the cliff path. "They come back every year and no one seems to know their name."

"Dammit, Elizabeth!" He caught up with her, seized her arms, and turned her to face him again. "You know I'd tell you if I could."

Struggling to keep the tears at bay, she muttered, "Yes, I do. It's just that it's so hard, not knowing. I try not to think about it, but every time I pick up a newspaper . . ." She looked up at him, helpless to continue.

The look in his eyes cut off her breath. "You know, Lady Elizabeth Hartleigh Compton, you sure make it hard for me to keep my promise."

"Then don't." She didn't know she'd said the words out loud until she saw his face change. Even if she could take them back, she knew she wouldn't. Yes, he was right. They should wait. His divorce wasn't finalized yet. Officially he was still married. Protocol demanded they keep their distance from each other, at least until he was a free man.

Right at that minute, however, none of that seemed to matter. No one was around to see them, and heaven only knew when she would be alone with him again. If ever. No, she would not take back the words.

She waited for what seemed an eternity before he moved. She wondered if he'd understood, but then he pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. It seemed as if everythinga"the trees, dogs, birds, the gra.s.s, the ocean, the sun, and the salty breeze, all of ita"disappeared into one soundless moment in time. So this, she thought with a sense of wonder, this is what being in love is really like.

Polly flew up the stairs so fast she tripped at the top and went sprawling onto the landing. The carpet sc.r.a.ped her knee and she winced. Another flipping ladder to ruin her stockings.

Edna's voice screeched up the stairs. "What are you doing up there? You sound like a herd of elephants."