Berried Alive (Manor House Mystery) (9 page)

BOOK: Berried Alive (Manor House Mystery)
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Elizabeth spotted hydrangea bushes beneath the latticed windows, almost hidden by tall, swaying hollyhocks and white Canterbury bells. There was no sign of daphne shrubs anywhere.

With her gaze on the ground in front of her, Elizabeth walked around the side of the house. A tall fence prevented her from seeing inside the back garden, but a rickety gate in the center had been left unlatched.

The wind could well blow it open, Elizabeth reasoned, giving it a tiny push to help it along. Unfortunately something seemed to be obstructing the gate, and she had to give it quite a hefty shove to get it open wide enough to poke her head through.

She peered around the edge of the gate and received a nasty shock. Annie Adelaide stood on the other side, staring at her in disbelief, one hand holding what appeared to be a pair of knickers, while the other held a wooden clothes peg. At a short distance from her feet a basket lay sprawled on its side, and some of its contents had spilled out.

Elizabeth realized now what had been obstructing the gate. It was a basket of clean wash, most of which now lay in the grass. "Oh," she said faintly, "I'm most dreadfully sorry."

Annie looked down at the scattered clothes and murmured, "It's all right, your ladyship. I don't think they got all that dirty."

Feeling utterly mortified, Elizabeth pushed through the
gate and righted the basket. She began picking up the pieces of laundry, shaking them out before replacing them in the basket. All the time her mind was racing, searching for an excuse for her inexcusable behavior.

"That's all right, m'm. Just leave it. I'll see to it."

Dropping an undershirt into the basket, Elizabeth rose, uncomfortably aware of her burning face. "I do apologize, Mrs. Adelaide. The truth is, I lost my scarf yesterday and I was wondering if I'd left it here when I came to visit. I knocked on the door but you must not have heard me."

Annie Adelaide stared pointedly at the scarf that held down Elizabeth's hat.

"It was a blue scarf," Elizabeth mumbled.

"Ah, well, I'm afraid you didn't leave it here, m'm." Annie dropped the knickers into the basket, then turned to unpeg the next garment. "I'm sure I would have noticed it if you had."

"Yes, well, I suppose I must have left it somewhere else. I'm so sorry to have bothered you."

"Quite all right, m'm. Can I offer you some tea?"

"No, thank you," Elizabeth said hurriedly. "I really don't have time to stay." Fighting the urge to turn tail and run, she made herself look around. "My, what a pretty garden you have! So many flowers!"

"I like flowers," Annie said, a trifle defensively. "I pick them and put them in the house. Makes it smell fresh and clean."

"Yes, I suppose it does." Elizabeth pointed to a lush display of white daisies. "How pretty. I do love daisies." She walked over to them, conscious of Annie's eyes boring into her back. "And what is this?" She pointed to a small shrub covered in fragile pink blossoms.

There seemed to be a significant pause before Annie
answered. "I believe it's called wood laurel, m'm. Though some people do call it daphne."

"Yes," Elizabeth murmured. "I thought so." She twisted around to find Annie staring at her with an odd expression on her face. "Well, I must be getting along. I'm so sorry about the wash. I do hope you won't have to wash it all again."

"Don't worry about it, your ladyship. No harm done."

"Well, thank you." Smiling and nodding, Elizabeth escaped through the gate. She practically ran back to her motorcycle, feeling all the time as if Annie Adelaide's fierce gaze were burning into her back.

It wasn't so much the sight of the daphne that bothered her so. After all, lots of people grew the fragrant shrub in their gardens, and that didn't necessarily mean that someone was guilty of murder.

On the other hand, what had upset her so was the fact that despite peering as hard as she could at the flowering shrub, she hadn't see one single berry nestled among its deadly dark green leaves. Which led her to wonder exactly what had happened to them.

Polly sat in the office, staring at the stack of rental notices without much interest. It was a boring job, and she usually put it off as long as possible. All those cottages, all sitting on the land belonging to Lady Elizabeth. It blew her mind. By rights her ladyship should be rolling in money, instead of having to juggle the bills every month. It didn't seem right.

Not that it was any of her business, of course. The first thing Lady Elizabeth had done when she'd hired her as her assistant was make her promise not to discuss the business of the manor with anyone. It wouldn't do for word to get
out in the village that the lady of the manor, the woman everyone looked up to and respected, was just as poor off as they were and couldn't afford a plumber to fix the water pipes.

If there was one thing Polly prided herself for, it was her ability to keep her mouth shut. She was proud of being trusted with such an enormous secret, and nothing and nobody would be able to pry it out of her. Not even Sam.

The door opened and Polly jumped, expecting to see her ladyship come sailing through the door. It was Sadie's cheerful face, however, grinning at her from the doorway.

"Watcha doing?" Sadie came into the office, gazing around her as if she'd never been in there before. "Seems to me this place could use some sprucing up. You don't even have a calendar on the wall."

"Don't need one," Polly said, shuffling the pile of papers in front of her in an effort to look like a hardworking assistant. "I don't need nothing on the wall to tell me what day it is."

"Maybe not, but they're nice to look at. I have one in my room and I look forward to turning the page at the end of the month. It's like you got twelve different pictures to look at on your wall every year. Besides, every new picture I see reminds me it's one month closer to the end of the war."

Polly bit her tongue before she could say what was on her mind. She didn't want to admit that if she were really, truly honest with herself, she didn't want the war to end. Not yet, anyway. Because if it did, that would mean Sam would go back to America without her.

She needed time. Time to make him see what a terrible mistake it would be to leave her behind in England. They were meant to be together, and one day he was going to
realize that. All she could hope was that he wouldn't wait until he got back home to find that out.

"Anyhow," Sadie said, shattering Polly's thoughts. "I was sent up here to ask you to help me find Martin's glasses."

"Didn't know they was lost." Polly started writing out the first rent notice. "Anyhow, I'm busy."

"Well, all right, then." Sadie turned toward the door. "But I thought you'd like to know the Yanks haven't left for the base yet. You could bump into Sam on the way up to the attic."

Polly's chin shot up. "The attic? Well, why didn't you say so!" She got up from her chair. "Though why would Martin's glasses be in the attic?"

Sadie snorted. "You're asking me why Martin does what he does? He's off his blinking rocker, isn't he. How the heck do I know why he does daft things? We've looked everywhere else in the house for them, and that's the last place to look."

Polly followed her out into the great hall. "Perhaps he lost 'em in the gardens."

"Violet says he never goes in the gardens. He's afraid of getting lost and not finding his way back."

"Lost in the gardens? He can see the house from there. It's blinking big enough."

Sadie shrugged. "Don't ask me. I'm only the flipping housemaid, aren't I. I do what I'm told and I don't ask questions. Vi says to look in the attic so I'm looking in the attic." She nudged Polly's arm. "Besides, attics are fun. You never know what you're going to find in there."

Polly looked at her in admiration. "You call her Vi?"

"Only when she's not listening." Sadie grinned. "Come on, let's get down the hall before the Yanks leave."

Seconds later, to Polly's intense disappointment, she heard the muffled roar of engines outside. "We're too late," she told Sadie. "They're leaving right now."

"Ah well, maybe it's just as well." Sadie unlocked the door that led to the attic stairs. "You only get upset whenever you see him, anyway."

"I get upset when I don't see him," Polly grumbled. "And I don't see him a lot these days."

Sadie stood back. "All right, you go first."

Polly glanced up the stairs. It was dark up there, and smelled funny, like the coal cellar right after the coalman had left. "Why don't you go first?"

"Why'd you think I told Violet I needed you to help me?" Sadie shivered, clutching the collar of her blouse. "I'm not going up there first. That's what I brought you for."

"What're you afraid of? Ghosts?" Polly uttered a shaky laugh and started up the stairs. She tried not to think about the shadowy man she'd seen disappear into the curtains. Sam was right. It was all in her mind.

Sadie's stomping footsteps behind her were somewhat reassuring, but still Polly could feel her skin crawling as she reached the top of the stairs. It was so cold up there. And damp. And creepy.

Sadie reached her side, and peered around. "Vi said there are three rooms, all leading off each other."

"I've never been up here before." Polly ventured into the small room ahead of her. On one side the ceiling sloped so sharply it almost reached the floor. Opposite her was the tiny oval window that she could see from the outside. Crossing over to it, she looked down on the courtyard below. It seemed an awful long way down.

She could see the whole driveway from that window,
and just caught a glimpse of the Jeeps before they rounded the bend and disappeared from view. Her heart ached. Another day without seeing Sam. Sometimes she didn't think she could bear it anymore.

"Gawd, look at this mess."

Polly turned to see Sadie on her knees in front of a big black trunk. The lid was thrown back and Sadie was lifting brightly colored paper chains in her hands.

"That's the old Christmas decorations," Polly said, moving closer to take a look at them. "They used them to decorate the town hall once, when they held a dance for the Yanks."

"Go on!" Sadie stared up at her. "Did they do the jitterbug and everything?"

"Yeah, they did." Polly smiled at the memory. "It was really smashing, dancing with Sam. Until our lads started scrapping with the Yanks. Then all hell broke loose."

"Blimey, what happened?"

"Well, some things got smashed up and Lady Elizabeth said she weren't going to do it no more." Polly sighed. "It's a shame, really. We was all having such a lovely time."

"Sounds like it. Maybe we can talk her into doing another one. Those pitiful dances they have at the church hall are a waste of bloomin' time. None of the Yanks go, nor our army blokes, neither."

"That's because they don't serve beer there." Polly scanned the odd assortment of furniture, paintings, mysterious bundles and boxes with a frown. "We got to look through all this lot? It will take us weeks."

Sadie stood up and brushed her hands together. "Nah, just look really close and see if the dust has been disturbed. If it ain't, then we know Martin's never been up here to drop his glasses."

Polly squinted in the shadows. "Don't look like no one's been up here in a while."

"I can't see that old man hobbling up them steps anyway. This is a big bloomin' waste of time if you ask me." Sadie stomped across the floor, raising a small cloud of dust as she pulled open the door in the corner. Poking her head inside she muttered, "Gawd luvaduck. We'll never get in there, leave alone find anything. And if we can't, that means that old man never did, neither. Let's just say we looked and leave it at that." She shut the door, then sneezed violently, making Polly jump again.

"All right." Only too happy to get out of that creepy room, Polly turned to head for the steps. In her hurry, her knee banged into one of the boxes, sending it crashing to the floor.

Sadie let out a squeak. "Crikey, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry." Polly squatted on her heels and turned the box upright. "Looks like a load of old photographs. They're all faded and brown." She held up a picture of an elegant woman wearing a large hat and a lace dress with a high collar and a skirt that fell to her ankles. "Look at this. Must be a hundred years old."

Sadie took it from her. "Nah, more like forty years. They didn't have a film camera a hundred years ago." She handed the picture back to Polly. "I'm glad I didn't live back then."

"Oh, I don't know." Polly studied the aged photograph. "It looks nice, sort of peaceful."

"Nah, you'd miss going to the pictures and seeing all your favorite film stars. Cary Grant wasn't even born back then." Sadie's foot struck something, and she bent over to
pick it up. It was a small wooden casket, and by the way she was holding it, fairly heavy.

"Open it," Polly said. She dropped the photograph back in the box with the others and stacked it back on the pile.

Sadie prized the lid open, and sniffed. "Smells like roses." She reached inside and drew out a small pink package.

"What is it?" Polly scrambled to her feet. "Oo, it's got a lovely pong."

"It's scented soap," Sadie said, reading off the label. "Look, it's shaped like a rose." She tipped the casket toward the window so she could see the contents. "There's a lot of packages in here, all different soaps. There's lavender and lilac and . . . oo, what's that? Orange blossom?" Sadie picked up the pale peach packet and held it to her nose. "Smells like a tropical island."

"Let me smell!" Polly took the package from her. Just as she did so, something caught her eye in the corner behind Sadie. It was the figure of a woman—a small, elegant woman wearing a big hat. Polly's blood ran cold as the figure actually
moved
.

She let out a shriek, dropped the package of soap and lunged for the steps. She went down them so fast her feet missed a couple of them, and she landed in a heap at the bottom.

Sadie came clattering down behind her, demanding, "What the bloody hell's the matter with you?"

"Ghost," Polly gasped. "Let's get out of here." Without waiting to see if Sadie followed, she flung herself through the door, belted down the great hall and didn't stop until she reached the office.

BOOK: Berried Alive (Manor House Mystery)
7.56Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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