Fire When Ready (Manor House Mystery)
Read Fire When Ready (Manor House Mystery) Online
Authors: Kate Kingsbury
Fire When Ready
A Manor House
Mystery
By Kate Kingsbury
Copyright 2004 by Doreen Roberts Hight
Cover by Rachel High
CHAPTER
1
"After all the trouble that munitions factory has caused, I can't believe it's actually going to open this week." Violet slapped a kipper into the pile of flour on the breadboard. "Six months ago I'd have said that nice Mr. McNally was wasting his time."
Seated at the kitchen table, Lady Elizabeth Hartleigh Compton watched her housekeeper deftly turn the kipper until it wore a white coat of flour. "Douglas McNally certainly had a difficult fight on his hands. But then he's an assertive man, and very determined. Though I must say, I was surprised the councilors agreed to allow it."
"Money, that's what did it." Violet tossed the fish into the frying pan. A loud sizzle erupted as it hit the hot fat. "They can see it bringing money into the town. As for Fred
Shepperton, as soon as he found out how much that wily Scotsman was willing to pay to lease his land, he practically shoved it into the bugger's hands. Sold out to the devil, he did. That money won't do him any good, you mark my words. He's put a curse on all of us, that he has."
Elizabeth sighed. She'd heard the argument over and over again. The people of Sitting Marsh were violently opposed to having a munitions factory built so close to the village. Apart from the unwelcome eyesore marring the peaceful countryside, most of the villagers were convinced that the enterprise would make them a target for Hitler's bombs, which until now they had managed to avoid. McNally's visions of bringing more people into the area, creating houses, shops, schools, and work for everyone, only intensified the wrath of the residents.
Although Elizabeth could appreciate the economic benefits of the venture, she agreed wholeheartedly with the villagers' misgivings. Sitting Marsh was a quaint little village, and she hated the possibility of it becoming irreversibly changed by the advent of a modern factory.
On the other hand, she couldn't argue against the fact that such factories were vital to the war effort, and would certainly improve the income of the younger people, perhaps encouraging them to stay in the area instead of moving to the big cities.
"I thought Mr. McNally had given up," Violet said, breaking into Elizabeth's thoughts. "When he left here last year and went back to Glasgow I thought we'd never see him again."
"I understand he'd already come to an agreement with Fred Shepperton." Elizabeth rearranged her knife and fork, then straightened the triangle of white serviette. "Fred kept
quiet about it all that time because he didn't want to upset the villagers if the venture fell through."
Martin, who had been sitting quietly reading the newspaper through the entire conversation, suddenly came to life. "If you ask me," he said, peering at Elizabeth over the top of his gold-rimmed specs, "I don't think the master is going to allow it."
Violet slapped another kipper into the pan. "Nobody asked you," she said rudely. "And in any case, since the master has been dead for God knows how long, I don't think anyone's going to be listening to him, either."
"I listen to him," Martin declared. "And what he says makes a great deal of sense."
"Which is more than I can say for you, talking to a bloody ghost." Violet slid a fried kipper onto a plate and carried it over to the table. "Here," she said, thrusting it in front of Elizabeth, "get that down you. You've been looking far too peaky lately. You need to get out of this house. Get some fresh air into your lungs."
Elizabeth looked at the offering without much enthusiasm. "I don't feel like going out. It's miserably cold out there. I don't think the snow is ever going to melt."
"Of course it will. Once the sun comes out again." Violet went back to the stove. "After all, the snow's only been on the ground since last week. It's not as if we've had it all winter. It'll soon melt once it warms up."
"Well, it's too cold to ride the motorcycle in this weather. Besides, where would I go? There's nothing to do if I do go out."
'Take yourself off to the pictures or something. There's a lot of good films on now."
Martin carefully folded up the newspaper. "I think that's
a jolly good idea, madam. You've been looking quite poorly lately. The master is worried about you."
"The master should be worrying about hisself," Violet said crisply. "Considering he's six feet under the cold ground."
"At least he has his wife to keep him company," Elizabeth muttered.
"I knew it." Violet flipped the fish over in the pan and turned to face her. "It's time you stopped pining after that American major, Lizzie. He's gone and that's that. You can't bring him back, so you might as well put him out of your mind and get on with your life."
She is right
, Elizabeth thought mournfully. But knowing what was right and doing it were two different things. "He could have at least dropped me a line," she murmured. "Just to let me know how he's getting along."
"He sent a Christmas card, didn't he?"
"It wasn't a very personal message, was it."
Hope you all have a wonderful Christmas Season. Best Regards, Earl
. As if she were nothing more than a casual acquaintance. The emptiness she'd felt when she'd opened that long-awaited envelope was still an ache that kept her awake at night.
"Lizzie." Violet didn't often touch her physically, but she came over and draped a bony arm across her shoulders. "What did you expect? Major Monroe went back to his wife and family in America. His life is there. Yours is here. If you ask me, it was the best thing that could have happened for both of you when he was sent home. Though I'm sorry his son had to get hurt in that accident."
"At least Earl had the decency to let us know his son recovered. Except for the Christmas card, it's the only time he's written, and that was seven months ago."
Eight months since she'd seen him. Eight long, miserable,
lonely months, wondering how he was, what was happening to him.
If he'd patched things up with his wife
.
That was what really bothered her. Because to know that Earl was back with his wife was to give up all hope. Not that she deserved to hope for anything. After all, she'd been no more than Earl's landlady, and a reluctant one at that, when the war office had ordered her to open up the mansion to American officers stationed at the nearby base.
At first, her friendship with the handsome major had been tentative at best, but over the long months they had grown close. As close as was possible for a divorced lady of the manor and a USAAF major with a wife and family in America.
There had been many times when she'd longed to ignore the conventions and standards with which she'd been brought up to preserve at all costs. She had fought the temptations, striving to protect her precious reputation and the responsibilities she owed to the people of Sitting Marsh.
These were troubled times, and her villagers needed her now as never before. Facing the threat of invasion, or destruction from Hitler's bombs, the miseries of shortages and rationing, the possibility of their menfolk dying on a battlefield in a country they'd never seen, they needed someone to look up to—some reminder that all was not lost, and that the traditions and heritage they fought to maintain were still alive and well.
She'd reminded herself of that over and over this past year. A small part of her, however, wished now that she'd not been so stalwart in her protection of her reputation. Deep down inside, she wished that just once she'd given in to the longing in her heart. For now she would never know how it would be to love and be loved by Major Earl Monroe.
"Anyhow, you'll have to go out for the opening ceremony
of the factory. Seeing as how you're the guest of honor." Violet brought her kipper over to the table and sat down. "I hope you've got your speech all ready. Day after tomorrow, isn't it?"
Elizabeth poked at the offending fish with her fork. She wasn't that fond of fish for breakfast, but it was a change from a dreary bowl of porridge. How she missed the big breakfasts of the past, when the mansion was bustling with servants and guests. A full plate of bacon, eggs, sausage, fried tomatoes, fried bread, fried mushrooms, and buttered toast with maybe a small helping of fried roes every morning certainly gave one the energy to face the day. No wonder she was depressed. Kippers and porridge. Not much in the way of substitutes.
"Lizzie? You do have your speech ready, don't you?"
Pulling her thoughts back to the present, Elizabeth said listlessly, "I'll work on it today. I really have to be in the mood to write a decent speech. Polly used to help me write them, but she's been impossible ever since her boyfriend was transferred back to the States. I can't get her to concentrate on anything anymore. She used to be such a competent assistant."
"Well, at least she has a good excuse." Violet's thin features arranged themselves into a frown of disapproval.
Elizabeth bit back a retort. Violet never had approved of her friendship with Earl Monroe, even though she had assured her housekeeper over and over again that it was all very innocent. They had argued over it many times, and now that Earl was gone, Elizabeth had no intention of carrying on the argument.
She often wondered what her parents would say to hear Violet talking to the lady of the manor in such a tone. Or, for that matter, how they would react to the sight of their
only daughter taking her meals with the servants in the kitchen.
The truth was, ever since her parents had died in a bombing raid on London, and her ex-husband had gambled away the family fortune, Elizabeth had lived more like a servant than the sole heir to the Wellsborough estate. What with the debts, the much needed repairs, the loneliness of the cold, vast mansion, all made even more miserable by an unusually bitter winter, she was seriously tempted to sell the estate and move back to London. Bombs notwithstanding.
The door burst open just then, shattering her thoughts. Sadie Buttons charged into the room, her round face flushed with excitement. Her mousy brown hair stuck out in a bunch on either side of her head like donkey ears and she clutched a feather duster to her chest as she halted in front of Elizabeth. "Guess what Polly just told me," she said, her voice shrill with excitement.
Violet gave her a look that would have stopped Hitler's army from advancing. "In case you have forgotten," she said icily, "it's customary to greet her ladyship before bellowing like an angry bull."
Martin's eyes gleamed with approval. "About time you reminded the pesky girl about her manners. Her mouth is as big as Blackwall tunnel. I've never been witness to such deplorable behavior in a subordinate in all my years in the manor."
" 'Ere, who you calling a subordinate?" Sadie demanded.
"He means an employee, Sadie," Elizabeth said, giving Violet a slight shake of her head. Servants were hard enough to come by these days, and in spite of her unfortunate rebellious nature, Sadie was a very good housemaid. Efficient, hardworking, and loyal. One could hardly ask for more. Unless it was a less abrasive attitude, perhaps. In any case,
Elizabeth was prepared to make allowances rather than go through the dismal and quite impossible process of finding a more pliable applicant for the job.
Unfortunately, Violet wasn't as accommodating. She pushed her chair back, rose to her feet, and glared up at Sadie's flushed face. "You listen to me, young lady. You go out the door and you come back in the way you're supposed to do, with respect and consideration for her ladyship. If you do not, you will go without breakfast this morning. Is that clear?"
Sadie let out her breath in a rush of hot air. "Oh, all right. Sorry, your ladyship."
The door swung closed behind her, while Elizabeth murmured, "That really isn't necessary, Violet. The girl was excited about something, that's all."
"She has to follow the rules, Lizzie," Violet said firmly. "Otherwise we'll never be able to control her. She treats you like you're one of us." She carried her empty plate over to the sink and dumped the remains of her breakfast into the wastebin.
Elizabeth had to smile. "You can't blame her for that. Apart from the title, and all the responsibilities, which heaven knows I didn't want or ask for, I am no different than you or anyone else in the village."
Violet spun around and her frizzy hair seemed charged with electricity as she uttered a shocked gasp. "Lady Elizabeth Hartleigh Compton, how dare you say such a thing! After the upbringing you had, your aristocratic background, your place in the gentry, how can you lower yourself to the level of a commoner? Your father would turn in his grave to hear you say such a thing."