Fire When Ready (Manor House Mystery) (10 page)

Polly tossed her head. "I don't need an excuse. He keeps asking me to go out with him."

"So why don't you go, then?"

"I don't know." Polly stuck a pencil sharpener on the end of her pencil and started twisting it. "I like him and everything, but . . ." She let her voice trail off, not knowing exactly how to finish that sentence.

"He's not Sam," Sadie finished for her.

"I'm over Sam." Polly pulled the sharpener off the pencil, spraying little bits of wood everywhere. "Besides, I went out with Ray the other night. I don't have to see him every night, do I?"

"All right, all right! Don't get your knickers in a twist." Sadie moved toward the door. "If you can get at least one
poster ready by tomorrow, we'll go down the pub tomorrow night, all right?"

Her irritation vanishing, Polly sent her a cheerful wave. "I'll have one ready. I'm really looking forward to this. I feel like I'm doing something to help, even if it's not as important as what Marlene is doing."

Sadie peered back at her through the half-closed door. "Any time we can put a smile on a lonely soldier's face, I'd say that's every bit as important as driving an ambulance. Ta ta for now!"

Polly stared at the closed door for a moment, then smiled. Sadie was right. If they could get lots of people writing letters, that would be really important. She reached for a sheet of paper and then dipped her pen into the inkwell.

Slowly she began writing.
Dear Soldier, my name is Polly Barnett and I live in a village called Sitting Marsh. . . .

Elizabeth stared at Earl, trying to understand exactly what he was saying. She kept hoping he'd say something else, but he seemed to be waiting for her answer to this stupendous bit of news.

The long silence was abruptly broken by Martin's quavering voice. "Oh, there you are, madam. I thought I heard the bell. Unfortunately I was . . . ah . . . indisposed at the time. I deeply apologize for keeping you waiting."

"That's all right, Martin," Elizabeth murmured, her gaze still locked with Earl's. "The major let me in."

The sound of shuffling feet drew closer. "The major? 'Pon my soul! So it is." Martin came into view, his forehead deeply creased as he peered at Earl over the top of his glasses. "I thought we'd seen the last of you."

This rather rude observation broke the tension as Earl
laughed. "Can't get rid of me that easy, Martin. How are you? Long time, no see."

"Is the war over, then?" Martin looked at Elizabeth. "I'm sure we would have heard if there had been a victory, madam, don't you think?"

"I'm afraid the war is still going on," Elizabeth told him.

"Then what's he doing here?" Martin jerked his head in Earl's direction.

Embarrassed, Elizabeth glanced at Earl's amused face. "I was rather wondering that myself."

"I've been reassigned here for a while." Earl held out his hand to Martin. "I hope that meets with your approval, Martin?"

Martin regarded the proffered hand with suspicion, then shakily held out his gnarled fingers. "Good to see you again, young fellow. Things have not been the same around here since you left." He shook Earl's hand, then to Elizabeth's further embarrassment, gave her a sly wink. "I trust that your disposition will improve now, madam?"

"My disposition is in very good health, thank you, Martin," Elizabeth assured him crisply. Actually, that was putting it mildly. At that moment she was having a great deal of trouble resisting the urge to leap about madly with earsplitting shrieks of joy. "Major Monroe and I will be taking lunch in the conservatory. Will you please ask Violet to prepare a tray for us?"

"Of course, madam." Martin shuffled away at his usual snail's pace. "Right away."

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth murmured as he disappeared. "I'm afraid Martin tends to speak rather bluntly at times."

"It's good to see him again." He smiled at her, his eyes
crinkling at the edges as she remembered so well. "It's good to see you, too, Elizabeth."

"Likewise." She felt tongue-tied, like a schoolgirl again. Part of her was bubbling over with joy and excitement, yet she was afraid to rejoice too much. She was terrified that she'd misunderstood him, even more terrified of what it might mean if she'd heard him right. She felt as if she'd been caught up in a whirlwind, head spinning, feet off the ground.

He held out his arm, and his eyes were full of warmth and sparkle as he murmured, "Shall we?"

She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. She'd worry about everything later. Right now she was living what she'd thought was a hopeless dream, and she was going to enjoy it for all it was worth before the bubble burst once again.

CHAPTER

7

It was much later before Elizabeth was alone with Earl. When they arrived at the conservatory, the first thing he commented on was the absence of his favorite rocking chair. Rather than wait to find Desmond and ask him to fetch it from the office, he suggested going up to get it himself.

Elizabeth went with him, and several minutes were taken up talking to Polly, who seemed delighted to see the major again. Eagerly she plied him with questions about America, until Elizabeth had to drag him and the chair from the room.

Between them they carried the heavy rocker all the way down the stairs, stopping every now and again to catch their breath. With all the laughing and joking together, Elizabeth couldn't help noticing how much more at ease Earl had become.

In spite of the lines of strain she'd noticed earlier, he seemed more light-hearted, more boyish than she'd ever seen him. It made him all the more attractive, and by the time they got the chair situated just right and Earl had sunk onto it with a long sigh of satisfaction, Elizabeth had serious doubts about her ability to refrain from flinging herself into his arms and begging him to repeat the kiss he'd given her a lifetime ago.

Seated on the wicker couch, she accepted the glass of sherry he'd poured for her and tried not to notice the visible trembling of her hand. Aware that Violet would appear at any minute with their meal, she was determined to get one thing straight before she died from apprehension.

"How long will you be staying this time?"

"I don't know." He settled his broad shoulders against the back of the chair, tilting it backward. "I asked for the transfer and they gave it to me, but on a temporary basis. Though I'm gonna work on that."

"Will you be moving back into the manor?"

It disturbed her to see the odd look in his eyes. "If you'll have me."

"Of course we'll have you! Violet will be delighted, I'm sure, and even Martin has missed you, in spite of what he says."

"Then I'll move in tonight."

"What about Major Barnes? Didn't he replace you?"

"He's been reassigned. Somewhere near London, I think."

"Your men will be pleased to hear that." Not nearly as thrilled as she was, she reflected happily.

The look in his eyes intensified. "I've missed you, Elizabeth."

"I've missed you, too." This was dangerous ground, she
warned herself. Her heart was thumping so hard she was sure he could hear it. Better watch every word she said, or she might say something she'd regret later on.

To her disappointment, he seemed satisfied with that. "So tell me what's been happening in Sitting Marsh. I hear you had a some excitement here the other night."

She didn't want to talk about the fire at the factory. She wanted to talk about the stunning statement he'd made earlier. She wanted to know if he'd really said those words or if she'd imagined the whole thing. She wanted to know, if it were true, what it would mean to their relationship.

All the hoping, wishing, and wanting she'd suffered through now seemed immoral, as if her intense longing for him had somehow engineered this state of affairs. She'd ached to hear those words ever since he'd told her his marriage wasn't all it should be, and now that he'd actually said them, she wasn't sure how she felt.

"Elizabeth?"

Mortified, she realized she'd been staring at him for several moments without speaking. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I'm afraid my mind was on something else just then."

"You're thinking about what I said earlier, about the divorce."

He always could read her mind so well. "Yes," she said, clasping her hands together to disguise their trembling, "I was—"

To her dismay, a tap on the door interrupted her. Violet pushed her way in, carrying a loaded tray.

Earl leapt to his feet to take the tray from her, earning himself a rare smile from the cantankerous housekeeper. "How's my favorite girl?" he asked, as he set the tray down on the low table.

"Oh, go on with you, Major," the housekeeper simpered. "I bet you tell all the girls that."

Elizabeth was intrigued to see Violet's cheeks grow warm. She inspected the tray, pleased to see the tempting array of cheeses, pork pie, sliced apples, and thick crusty bread. Violet must have squandered a month's rations. "Thank you, Violet," she murmured. "You've outdone yourself."

"Can't do too much for the major," Violet said, beaming at Earl. "It's nice to see you back."

"It's good to be back, Violet. I've missed living at the manor. My house in the States seemed a little cramped after this."

"I bet you don't miss the rattle in the water pipes." Violet sent a sly glance at Elizabeth. "Or the ghosts."

"I missed everything about being here. Especially the dogs. Where are they, anyway?"

"Asleep in the kitchen. They don't move much in this cold weather. Drafty old place this is."

Violet showed no sign of leaving, much to Elizabeth's frustration. She couldn't wait for the housekeeper to leave so she could finish her vitally important conversation with Earl. "This looks very good," she said, giving Violet a meaningful look. "You must be starving, Earl."

"As a matter of fact I am."

"Well, I'd best be off and let you enjoy your meal." Violet finally moved, all too slowly in Elizabeth's opinion, to the door.

The second it closed, she turned back to Earl. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Wait." He sat down on the rocker again, his hands thrust between his knees. "I've been thinking about this all the way across the Atlantic, rehearsing what I wanted to say to
you when I saw you. So let me speak, and if you have any questions after that I'll do my best to answer them, okay?"

Heart pounding, she whispered, "All right."

"Well, as I said, my wife and I are getting a divorce. It had nothing to do with any situation here. This had been brewing for some time. In fact, it was my wife who asked for the divorce. Although she didn't say as much, I have an idea she wants to be free to meet someone else."

Elizabeth uttered a small cry of distress. "I'm so dreadfully sorry."

His smile was a little guarded. "Don't be. As I said, it came as no real surprise. In fact, it was a relief. Because now I'll be free to follow a different path."

If she hadn't had such difficulty breathing, she would have answered him, though she had no idea what she would say. It didn't matter, anyway, because Earl went on talking.

"The divorce won't be final for a few months yet. Knowing how you feel about protocol and image and all that, I'll keep my distance until I'm officially free. After that, I guess I'll find out how you really feel about me."

As if he didn't know. Everyone else in the manor knew how she felt about him. He had to know. The fact that he was willing to wait in respect of her position before declaring himself only deepened her feelings for him. And yet, now that the impossible had suddenly become a very real probability, all sorts of warning bells were ringing in her head.

How open could they be about their relationship? She was the lady of the manor, revered and respected by her tenants. In spite of her own divorce, she'd earned their trust. They looked upon her as the one reliable constant in a rapidly changing world.

They expected a certain criteria of behavior from their guardian, and anything less would destroy their faith and
conviction that life would go back to normal once the war was over. That was what kept these people going—allowed them to go on living their lives—the powerful belief that things would be as they once were.

Even if they could accept a divorced woman in love with a divorced man as someone to look up to, what future could there possibly be for them? Sooner or later, he would have to return to America. If she wanted a lasting relationship with him, she'd have to follow him there.

How could she leave her home, this village, without leaving an heir to take her place? And what would happen to Violet and Martin? What would they do without her?

"I know I said I'd keep my distance," Earl said, breaking in to her thoughts, "but I was hoping for an indication that you felt at least some pleasure at the news."

Putting her worries aside for now, she smiled at him. "If the divorce is what you want, then of course I'm delighted. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. It just seems so . . ."

"Seems so what?"

"It just seems dishonorable to rejoice over the end of a marriage."

He squinted his eyes, as if trying to see inside her mind. "How did you feel when your marriage ended?"

"Relieved," she admitted. "It was a miserable marriage, anyway. The divorce was uncivilized, and it was a great load off my shoulders to have it over."

"Well, at least my divorce was amicable. We're still friends. Just grown apart, that's all. But that's exactly how I feel. Relieved. I don't think there's any shame in celebrating that, do you?"

"Perhaps not." She picked up her sherry glass. "Here's to your return to Sitting Marsh. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I shall."

"I certainly intend to do my best." He raised his own glass, clinked it against hers, then took a sip. "Now, let's eat. Then you can tell me what's been going on in Sitting Marsh."

They began to eat the tasty meal and she told him about the opening of the factory, and the fire. She watched his face grow grave when she told him that she was convinced the fire had been set on purpose, and that she suspected Douglas McNally and Jessie either died before the explosion or were unable to escape from the office.