Predictably, her thoughts had gone immediately to Earl. She’d wondered how long he would mourn her passing, and how soon he would find someone else to take her place. Visions of the brief times they had spent together had flashed through her mind, and she’d been filled with a deep sadness at the thought that she would never be able to enjoy such moments again.
She smiled, wondering what he’d say if he knew how foolish she was where he was concerned. Reaching the door of the conservatory, she pushed it open, then paused in shock.
He was there, lounging in his favorite rocking chair, his head back, his eyes closed.
For a second or two she wondered if she’d conjured up a vision out of her dreams, but then she heard his rhythmic breathing and knew he was really there, sound asleep.
She crept into the room and gently closed the door. A half-empty glass of Scotch sat on the table next to his elbow. In sleep his face looked younger, less tense, his strong jaw relaxed. She had to fight the urge to lean over and kiss his mouth.
They had an agreement, she reminded herself, as she had done so often. Until his divorce was final, they would keep their distance. Or at least try to do so. She smiled again at the memory of the kiss they’d shared on the cliffs . . . was it only a couple of days ago? It seemed like weeks now.
Very carefully she poured herself a glass of sherry and settled down on the white wicker couch. She was prepared to wait all night for him to awaken. He needed his sleep, and the escape that it afforded him from the hell he faced every day.
Only a few minutes passed, however, before his eyelids flickered. She’d heard the change in his breathing and was watching him when he opened his eyes.
His boyish smile warmed her as no fire ever could. “I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he said softly. “There’s an angel sitting next to me.”
“A rather tarnished angel, I’m afraid,” she said, choosing to cover her confusion with her usual dry humor. “What are you doing here?”
“Giving you a nice surprise, I hope.” He stretched his arms above his head, presenting her heart with yet more cause to flutter wildly.
“It’s a wonderful surprise. I didn’t see your Jeep outside.”
“The boys dropped me off on their way to the pub.”
She found it impossible to remove her gaze from his face. “I was under the impression this morning that you would not be able to get away from the base anytime soon.”
“So was I, but our mission was aborted due to the bad weather, so here I am.”
“Wonderful.” She beamed at him. “How long?”
“Just for tonight. I have to be back in the morning.”
Oh, if only she could spend the night with him. The forbidden thought popped into her mind, shocking her to the core. She had never been that kind of person, having been brought up by the strictest of parents.
Her divorce had caused her agonies of embarrassment and had brought shame on her prominent family. She had yet to live that down in the village. She could only imagine the reaction if she should give in to her wanton thoughts. At the same time, she had to marvel at the effect this one man could have on her. Love like this was a powerful thing indeed.
“You’re looking very serious,” Earl murmured. “Was it something I said?”
She managed a light laugh. “Heavens, no. It’s just that I’ve had rather an exhausting day.” She filled him in on the events of the past few hours.
“I was getting a little worried about you,” he said, when she was finished. “Violet didn’t know you’d gone out. She invited me to wait in here for you, but I could tell she was worried, too.” His gaze probed her face. “So the kidnappers disappeared?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I would have liked to see them punished for what they did to Nellie and Florrie, and then there’s that Jeep they destroyed on the beach. We still don’t know what damage they did at the base.”
“I’ll probably find out tomorrow,” Earl said, sounding grim. “What about the murder case? How’s that coming?”
Elizabeth sighed. “It’s complicated. False leads, mixed signals, not much evidence to go on . . . I’m really no closer than I was at the beginning.”
“I guess the constables aren’t much help, either.”
“Your guess is right. I do have one more person I want to talk to tomorrow. Other than that, I really don’t know what to think.”
“Well, I really don’t want to waste my one night at home talking about murder and other unpleasant things.” He smiled at her so sweetly her heart ached. “Tell me what you were like when you were little.”
“Precocious.”
He laughed. “I figured that.” He took a sip of his Scotch and put it down. “No, really. Tell me. I want to know.”
“I’ll tell if you tell me what you were like as a little boy.”
His grin widened. “You’ve got a deal.”
She settled back to enjoy what she knew was going to be a fascinating conversation. If only she could go on like this forever—sitting so close to him, listening to his deep voice, getting to know him, watching the laughter light up his blue eyes, and feeling as if she were seventeen once more and so madly, madly in love.
It was late when she finally said good night to him. She could tell he wanted to kiss her. She had never wanted anything more in her life, but she knew once they gave in to the temptation, others would follow. That path was too dangerous; it was still too soon.
She lay awake for a long time thinking about him and their nebulous future. She’d tried to avoid as much as possible thinking about what would happen to them when the war eventually ended. He would be sent back to America, of course.
Would he ask her to go back with him? Could she go if he did? Those two questions were unanswerable. She could only hold on to what they had now, watching the days slip away, waiting for his divorce to become final.
What if the war ended before that happened? What if he had to go back a married man? Would they ever be free to love as she so desperately wanted? Was she being a fool clinging to protocol, wasting what little time she could have with him with her vague fears of further besmirching her tremulous reputation?
Perhaps, but her values and heritage were impossible to ignore. She flung herself over onto her side and buried her face in the pillow. She had to stop tormenting herself with her doubts. Her emotions were at war with her morals, and there wasn’t much she could do about it. Sooner or later she would have to face the inevitable, and one or the other would win. It was only a matter of time.
She could either abandon her legacy and all it stood for to follow the man she loved halfway across the world, or wallow in regrets for what she had missed for the rest of her life. Only she could make that decision. When the time was right. Until then, all she could do was pray that whatever she decided, she would choose the right path.
For both of them.
CHAPTER 15
Earl had already left when Elizabeth went down to the kitchen the next morning. Violet told her he had stopped in to say good-bye, and that he hadn’t wanted to wake her.
Elizabeth wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. She always avoided actually saying good-bye to him, yet she bitterly resented losing the chance to see him, if only for a minute or two. She ate her breakfast in silence, trying to ignore her housekeeper’s attempts to find out where she’d gone the night before.
Martin, as usual, was hidden behind the newspaper, making little tsking noises whenever he saw something that upset him.
Violet’s patience finally gave out as Elizabeth was finishing her second cup of tea. “I don’t know why we have to have so many secrets in this house,” she muttered. “All I ask is that you let me know when you’re leaving, Lizzie, so I don’t have to worry about you. Remember how you worried about me when you didn’t know where I was.”
“If I’d told you where I was going,” Elizabeth said mildly, “you’d have worried even more.”
Violet spun around to stare at her. “I knew it! You went after that murderer, didn’t you.”
The newspaper rattled as Martin lowered it. “Murderer? What murderer? Don’t tell me someone else has been killed.”
“It’s the same one, you nitwit,” Violet snapped. “The man they found in the cellar at the wedding.”
“What was he doing in the cellar in the first place, that’s what I want to know.” He peered at Elizabeth over the top of his glasses. “They don’t have any wine down there, you know.”
“How’d you know that?” Violet demanded. “You’ve never been down there. How’d you know what they have or don’t have?”
“Someone told me.” Martin lifted the newspaper again and disappeared behind it.
Elizabeth and Violet exchanged glances. “Who told you that, Martin?” Elizabeth inquired.
“I don’t know, madam. Some young fellow in the kitchen. I didn’t catch his name.”
“Why did he tell you there was no wine in the cellar?”
Martin lowered the newspaper again. “Because I asked him if there was any down there, madam. I don’t like champagne. Nasty stuff. The bubbles fly up my nose and make my eyes water. Most unbecoming and quite embarrassing.”
“They had scrumpy, too,” Violet reminded him.
Martin gave her a withering look. “I don’t care to imbibe an obnoxious liquid that has been produced by fermenting sour apples.”
“Where do you think wine comes from then?” Violet demanded.
“Wine is made from grapes, as any fool should know.”
“Well, then.”
Martin sniffed. “Grapes are far superior to apples.”
“They’re still fermented fruit, aren’t they? It’s just a different color, that’s all.”
Martin sat in silence for a moment, then he shook the paper before lifting it in front of his face. “One might have expected a ludicrous comment like that from such an unenlightened cretin,” he murmured.
“Here, what do you mean by that?” Violet looked at Elizabeth for help.
Hoping to spare her housekeeper’s feelings, Elizabeth declined to answer.
Unfortunately, Martin had no such scruples. “Cretin,” he repeated. “I believe in the more popular vernacular, the word is ‘nitwit.’”
Violet opened her mouth to protest, but Elizabeth forestalled her. “Martin, when were you in the kitchen asking for wine?”
“At the wedding, madam.”
“Yes, Martin. I understand that. I meant about what time was it?”
“I didn’t look at the clock. It was when those silly women were making such a fuss about the knife to cut the wedding cake.” Martin shook the newspaper then turned the page. “I was looking for something to drink with my food. It’s not good for the digestion, to eat without drinking something. All I could see was champagne and that disgusting cider, so I went into the kitchen to see if they had a bottle of wine.”
“And that’s when you saw the gentleman?”
“Yes, madam.”
“What was he doing?”
Martin gave her a puzzled look. “Doing?”
“Well, was he just standing there, was he by the cellar door, was he at the sink?”
“Actually, madam, he was on his way out. He seemed in rather a hurry. He was quite abrupt when I asked him about the wine. I apologized for bothering him and said I would look in the cellar for a bottle, but he became quite agitated. He was most emphatic about there not being any wine down there. He actually escorted me out of that kitchen, rather rudely in my opinion. I had to settle for some insipid tea that the bakery woman had made earlier. The most I can say for that is that it was wet.”
Elizabeth barely heard his last comments. “This gentleman. Was he tall, rather stout, with graying hair?”
Martin nodded. “Yes, madam. That’s the chap. I think he was with the leggy bridesmaid. Good-looking woman, for her age.”
Violet huffed out her breath but Elizabeth ignored her. “Of course,” she said softly. “I should have known.”
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 apron. “If I remember rightly, I had a nice one taken with Charlie.”
Elizabeth stared at her, intrigued to see her housekeeper blushing. “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 reassured 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.”