Berried Alive (Manor House Mystery) (10 page)

CHAPTER

7

Elizabeth looked up as Polly slammed through the office door at full tilt. The girl was as pale as chalk and looked about to faint dead away.

"Good heavens, Polly," Elizabeth exclaimed. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Ghost, m'm," Polly said, panting for breath. "In the attic. I saw her plain as the nose on me face." She flopped down on her chair and held both hands to the sides of her head. "Oh, m'm, it were awful."

Alarmed, Elizabeth said sharply, "Are you sure?" Then common sense took over. "Of course you didn't see a ghost. Polly, tell me exactly what you did see."

"A lady, like the one in the photograph. Oh . . . oo . . .
oh, I'll never go up there again. Not if me life depended on it. I swear I won't."

"What photograph?"

Polly stopped shuddering and lowered her hands. "The one in the box. I knocked it over and these photographs fell out. One was of a lady in a long dress and a big hat and I saw her, I swear I did!"

"Calm down, Polly." Elizabeth wished she had a bottle of the smelling salts her mother always carried with her. "What you saw was probably the dressmaker's form up there. I distinctly remember seeing it when we were looking for decorations for the town hall."

Polly stared at her with wide eyes. "Were it wearing a long dress and a big hat?"

"Well, no," Elizabeth admitted, "but it's dark up there and shadows sometimes move. I've seen them myself. You probably imagined the hat and dress."

"Begging your pardon, m'm, but this weren't no shadow. I saw her. I saw her better half yesterday as well."

"Her better half?" Elizabeth repeated in bewilderment.

"Yes, m'm. He weren't in the photograph with her but I know it were him. He was dressed in old-fashioned clothes as well. Just like her."

"He was wearing a dress?"

Polly giggled, sounding a little hysterical. "No, m'm, he were wearing a suit. And a bowler hat."

Elizabeth sighed. "Polly, I can assure you, if there were ghosts in the Manor House, I'm quite sure I'd know about them."

"Yes, m'm," Polly said, quite meekly, though her expression clearly stated she was not convinced.

"I assume you didn't find Martin's glasses?"

Polly started, as if she'd forgotten until that moment the reason she was in the attic in the first place. "Oh, no, m'm. We didn't. Me and Sadie looked all over, but if you ask me I don't think anyone's been up in that attic since Christmas. Except the ghosts, that is. They don't mess up the dust, do they."

Deciding it was time to change the subject, Elizabeth said briskly, "Well, I wanted to ask you something. I was down at the police station today and Sid mentioned your name. He seemed to think you know something about a group of men from London called the three musketeers."

Polly looked worried. "Well, I wouldn't say I know anything about them. I have heard of them though. Just about everyone in the village has heard of them." She hesitated, then added in a rush, "But I did see them last night. Down at the Tudor Arms. Or in the car park, rather. When I went back and told Alfie, he rang P.C. Dalrymple."

"Ah, so that's what Sid was talking about. Can you describe the men to me?"

"Not really, m'm." She gave a decisive shake of her head. "They wore handkerchiefs over their noses and I didn't get a really good look at them. Except . . ." Again she paused.

"Except?" Elizabeth prompted.

"Well, they was young. I mean they weren't old men. I could tell by their voices, and the way they moved."

"Could you tell what color hair they had?"

"I can't say as I noticed," Polly said slowly. "Just ordinary color hair, I s'pose."

"Was anyone else with you when you saw them?"

"No, m'm. I left the pub early. Marlene and Sadie were there and Sadie was singing in the talent contest. I was getting tired of all the noise. I was on me way back to me
bicycle when I heard a weird noise in the car park. I saw three men cutting the tires on the Jeeps with a big knife. I hid until they ran off. Oh, and I saw them scribble words on the wall of the pub."

"Do you remember seeing them inside the pub earlier?"

Polly shook her head. "They might have been, I s'pose, but I don't remember seeing them there."

"What about the clothes they wore? Think hard, Polly. You must remember something."

Polly screwed up her face in an effort to remember, then said unhappily, "I'm sorry, m'm. It were getting dark, and I was too scared to notice much about them."

Elizabeth sighed. "All right, Polly. Thank you. Now finish these rent notices, will you? We must deliver them to the post office tomorrow."

"Yes, m'm." Polly drew her chair closer to her desk and reached for the inkstand. "There's a lot here, m'm."

"Well, do the best you can. It's almost lunchtime, so you'll have to finish this afternoon." Elizabeth got up and headed for the door. "I have some errands to run later, but if you haven't finished by the time I get back I'll give you a hand."

Polly gave her a sweet smile. "Thank you, m'm. That's really nice of you."

Elizabeth left, reflecting on how pretty the child was when she smiled, and that it was a pity Polly didn't smile more often. Probably moping over that nice young squadron leader, no doubt. Such a shame. So many heartaches in wartime romances. Including her own. Depressed at the thought, she made her way to the kitchen.

Sadie was there when she entered, talking earnestly to Violet, who was busy at the stove as usual. Martin sat at the table, staring in front of him at a box of what appeared to
be tablets of scented soap, judging by the strong fragrance.

"I don't know what it was," Sadie said, as the door closed behind Elizabeth, "but it scared the shit out of Polly."

Martin caught sight of Elizabeth at that moment and struggled to his feet. "Good morning, Lady Elizabeth. You're rather late for breakfast, are you not?"

Sadie swung around, while Violet muttered, "We had breakfast hours ago, you old fool. It's almost time for lunch."

"I'm glad to hear it," Elizabeth said. "I'm absolutely famished." She sat down at the table and reached for the box. "What's this?"

"We found it in the attic, m'm," Sadie said, moving closer to the table. "I thought, what with the shortage of good soap, it might come in useful."

Elizabeth picked up a packet and sniffed deeply. "My, it does smell good."

"That's what I was telling Violet," Sadie said with relish. "It's got a bloody good pong to it. It would turn a few heads at the Arms, I can tell you."

Martin tutted in disgust. "Young lady, I'll thank you to use proper language when addressing her ladyship. Please save that disgusting vernacular for that ghastly den of iniquity the likes of you are so fond of patronizing."

Sadie grinned at him. "Aw, Martin, you don't know what you're missing. You should come down the pub on a Sunday night when we're all singing around the piano. I bet you could show 'em a thing or two, right?'

Martin sniffed. "I wouldn't be caught dead in that miserable hole. Nothing but drunken louts and fast women."

"See, I told you it was fun." She nudged Martin hard in the arm, almost knocking him off his feet. "Oh, sorry, mate. Keep forgetting you're a bit unsteady on your pins."

Martin grasped the back of his chair for support and drew himself up as far as he was able, which wasn't very far. "If you dare lay a finger on me again, young lady, and I use the term with a great deal of margin, I shall be forced to remove you from the premises."

Sadie stuck her face close to his. "You'd miss me, luv, you know you would."

Noticing Martin's face turning purple, Elizabeth decided it was time to intervene. "Thank you for bringing down the soap, Sadie," she said loudly. "It will make a pleasant change from that dreadful stuff we get from the chemist." She reached for a packet and handed it to Sadie. "Here, you can have this. I'll give one to Polly when she comes down for lunch."

"Thank you, m'm." Sadie took the soap from her and held it to her nose. "Scented soap. What a treat. This will make me feel like a proper lady."

"There isn't anything on this earth that could possibly help you in the least resemble a lady," Martin said nastily.

"Sadie," Violet said sharply, "stop tormenting Martin and come and mash these potatoes for me."

"Well, all right." Sadie slipped the soap in her apron pocket. "But it's not nearly as much fun."

Martin grunted something under his breath, then in a completely different tone asked, "May I be permitted to join you at the table, madam?"

"Certainly, Martin." Elizabeth glanced at the clock. "Polly will be down any minute. Then we can all have lunch."

"Disgraceful, that's what I call it," Martin mumbled.

Elizabeth wasn't sure to what he was referring, but wisely decided to ignore the comment. With any luck, they would get through the meal without any more bickering.

To her relief her hopes were realized, and she enjoyed a pleasant meal with her staff at the spacious kitchen table. Although both Martin and Violet had loudly voiced their doubts in the past on the wisdom of sharing her meals with the servants, Elizabeth had insisted, having formed a violent distaste for eating in the vast dining room alone.

On occasion Earl joined her for supper there, and then it was an immense pleasure, but otherwise she preferred to take her meals in the warm security of her kitchen, surrounded by the people she considered her family, complete with all the eccentricities and foibles one normally encountered with relatives.

With peace restored, the conversation throughout the meal was light-hearted. That was, until Sadie recounted the night's events at the pub, and described in great detail the wrath of the GIs when they discovered their tires in shreds. A lorry had to be summoned from the base, bringing new tires that the men had to replace on their wheels, thus making them very late in returning to their beds.

"I don't suppose anyone noticed these men in the pub earlier," Elizabeth said, without much hope.

"Nobody knows what they look like." Sadie flicked a glance at Polly. "Polly's the only one what's seen 'em, and it was too dark for her to see what they looked like."

"If you'll excuse me, madam." Martin struggled to his feet, and stood gasping for breath for a moment or two.

"Of course, Martin." Elizabeth peered at the clock above the stove. "You're late for your nap today."

"Yes, madam. I can barely keep my eyes open. I'll take my leave now, with your permission?"

"Have a good rest." Elizabeth smiled at him.

"Thank you, madam." He shuffled slowly to the door, dragged it open, and disappeared through it. The door
swung behind him, apparently a little faster than he'd anticipated, since a distinctly muttered "ouch!" drifted back to the little group still seated at the table.

Polly giggled, while Sadie looked concerned. Violet rolled her eyes at the ceiling, and went on eating her suet pudding.

Elizabeth's mind was on the incident at the Tudor Arms. If the three musketeers were doing mischief in the car park, it was very likely that at some time that evening they were actually inside the pub. If so, it was possible that yet another young man had been poisoned. She needed to talk to Earl, and as soon as possible.

She excused herself from the table, thus bringing an end to the pleasant lunch. She was about to leave when Sadie exclaimed, "What happened to the soap? Half of it's missing."

Violet darted a suspicious look at Polly, who hotly declared, "I ain't got it. I never touched the soap. Honest I didn't."

She looked so upset Elizabeth leaned forward and plucked out one of the remaining packets from the box. "No one's accusing you of anything, Polly. Here you are. You may have this one."

Polly smiled her pleasure. "Thank you, m'm." She took the packet and tucked it into the pocket of her skirt, with a defiant little toss of her head at Violet.

"Martin," Violet muttered. "What on earth does that old fool want with scented soap?"

"More'n likely he wants to smell nice for that lottery lady friend of his," Sadie said with a grin.

"More than likely he wants to
give
her the soap," Violet snapped. "He's given her just about everything else."

"Oo, sounds naughty." Sadie dug Polly in the ribs.

"That's enough, Sadie." Violet waved a hand at the girls. "Get these dishes washed at once. Polly, it's time you went back to your office work."

Both girls took their time getting to their feet. Polly left, presumably to return to the office to finish the rent notices, and Sadie began clearing away the dishes, piling them on the sink ready to wash. Meanwhile, Violet brought the ironing board out from the pantry and set it up in the corner of the kitchen.

Leaving them to their tasks, Elizabeth took the dogs for a short run on the lawn. She found the fresh air and exercise useful in clearing her mind, giving her a chance to concentrate on the problem of what to do about the three musketeers. They had to be apprehended, of course, and made to pay for the damage they had done. More important, if they were responsible for the deaths of those young men, then they belonged in prison, where they could hurt no one else.

She would have to discuss it with Earl. This very evening. Cheered immensely at the thought, she bounded after the dogs.

Polly decided to take the long way back to the office via the back stairs, which would lead her past the east wing. It took several minutes longer to go that way, but there was always the chance she'd bump into Sam, and she took every chance she could get.

To her intense delight, she heard the roar of Jeeps as she dawdled across the courtyard, which signaled the return of the American officers. They must not have had a mission that day, unless they had a night mission and were coming back for a rest before they took off.

Anxiously she waited as the Jeeps drew closer, deathly
afraid that Sam wasn't with them. Her leap of joy at the sight of him almost made her cry out, but she knew better than that. Sam got cross with her if she caused a fuss when she saw him. The other men teased him and he didn't like that.