Kate Kingsbury - Death Is in the Air

Sheila dragged a large handkerchief out of her pocket and loudly blew her nose. “We have four. Or we did until now. Pauline and Kitty are the other two. Oh, whoever done this to poor Amelia should be hung.”

“He probably will be,” Elizabeth said dryly. “Do you happen to know who it was Amelia was talking to last night?”

“No, m’m, I’m afraid I don’t. I only heard Amelia’s voice clearly. The other one was too muffled to even tell if it was a man or a woman. I just stayed in bed and pulled the covers over my ears. After all, it’s none of my business what they get up to in their free time. As long as they do their work around here, I stay out of their private lives.”

“Did Amelia make a habit of coming home late?”

Sheila stared down at the handkerchief and twisted it around her hands. “She liked the boys, I do know that. Always rushing around getting ready to go meet someone, she was. Most of the time I never knew what time she got home. She always got her jobs done, so I never asked.”

“Did she have a special boyfriend?”

“If she did, I wouldn’t know who it was.”

Deciding she wouldn’t learn much more from Sheila, Elizabeth asked, “Where are the other girls now?”

“Out in the fields. We’re tilling them now that the harvesting’s over.”

“I’d like to have a word with them, if I may?”

Sheila glanced at the clock again. “Of course. They should be in for elevenses soon. Which reminds me. I should be getting on with my chores. Just look at me. A farmer’s wife and still in my nightie. What must you think of me.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Even farmers’ wives become ill now and then. Don’t let me keep you, please. I’ll just wait here for the girls while you’re getting dressed, if you don’t mind.”

Sheila rose to her feet, looking flustered. “Not at all, Lady Elizabeth. Make yourself comfortable. There’s the morning newspaper there and a woman’s magazine. I’ll be making some coffee when the girls come in, so perhaps you’d care to join us. I could use your help when I tell them about poor Amelia.”

Elizabeth turned her head as the door opened and a skinny young woman poked her head into the room. “Excuse me, Mrs. Macclesby, but have you seen my spade anywhere? I left it leaning against the wall last night, and now it’s gone.”

Sheila whirled around. “Maisie, how many times have I told you to put your things away when you’ve finished with them? That spade is back in the shed where it belongs. Why is it that the last place you girls look is where something belongs? Next time you leave something lying around outside, I’m going to charge you a shilling to get it back.”

“Yes, Mrs. Macclesby. Sorry.” Maisie’s dark eyes shifted to Elizabeth for a moment, then she withdrew her head and disappeared.

Sheila sighed. “Half these girls they send us don’t know one end of a spade from the other. Most of them don’t have the stamina to work out in the fields all day, and they’re always moaning and complaining about their sore muscles. Still, I suppose we should be grateful for the help now that the men are all off fighting in the trenches.”

“We all have to make sacrifices these days, I’m afraid.” Elizabeth settled herself more comfortably on the couch. “I quite admire those young ladies for volunteering to work on the land. It isn’t easy work, by any means.”

“Maybe not,” Sheila muttered as she crossed the room, “but they get well paid and well fed, and they’re away from all that bombing. That’s a lot to be thankful for, I’d say. Too bad they can’t appreciate that.” She opened the door that led to her narrow hallway. “I won’t be a minute, Lady Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth nodded. She needed time to think about the questions she wanted to ask the girls. She very much wanted to know the name of the person Amelia had spent time with the night before. Surely at least one of the girls should be able to tell her.

Idly she picked up the woman’s magazine from the table in front of her and began leafing through it. Her glance fell on a picture of a man and woman seated at a long table. Each of them held a brimming glass of wine, and candlelight flickered between them as they stared into each other’s eyes.

As she gazed at the picture with an intense fascination, the images changed. She imagined she saw herself seated at that table, staring into the eyes of Earl Monroe.

With a muttered exclamation she slapped the pages closed. She absolutely, definitely, positively could not entertain these silly notions about the major. He would be so embarrassed if he had the slightest inclination that she looked upon him in a certain favorable light.

She would be hideously mortified if he detected one hint that she was feeling anything other than businesslike toward him. The whole idea was so ludicrous she would have laughed out loud if it hadn’t been for the tiny flicker of excitement deep inside her heart.

Polly paused at the bottom of the back stairs. The door opened out onto the courtyard, and she could hear an engine revving up outside. Her heart raced to keep up with the sound. Sam could be just a few feet away from her right now. Just one quick look, that’s all she wanted. It had been so long since she’d seen him, she could hardly remember what he looked like.

Obeying the irresistible urge, she dragged off her apron, undid the top two buttons of her white blouse, hitched her dark blue skirt up a couple of inches under the wide black belt she wore, then opened the door and peeked outside.

Her stomach did a double somersault when she saw the driver of the Jeep. By some miracle it was Sam, and his profile was every bit as smashing as she remembered. Her excitement propelled her forward, and before she really knew what she was doing, she’d bounced outside into the sunlight.

He saw her right away and flashed her a grin. “Well, hi, beautiful! Where have you been hiding?”

He’d called her beautiful. Entranced, Polly gazed happily at him, oblivious to the whistles and catcalls echoing across the courtyard from Sam’s appreciative comrades. She wondered if it was all right to call a man beautiful, because right then, with the sun glinting on the badges on his uniform, and his teeth gleaming white in his dark, suntanned face, he was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever come close to in her life. Better than any film star she’d ever seen. Just watching him smile like that made her feel like floating all the way up to the clouds.

“What’s the matter, honey? Cat got your tongue?”

She snapped out of her trance. If she wanted him to go on thinking she was a twenty-year-old woman, she’d better start behaving like one. In her best imitation of Ava Gardner, she tossed her head. “I was just wondering how long you were going to sit there making all that noise.”

More whoops and whistles greeted her comment. Sam winked at her. “We’re on our way out, babe. Sorry if we’re disturbing you.”

“Well, I do have a lot of work to do. It’s hard to concentrate on the bills and everything with all this noise going on.”

Sam looked around at his leering companions and climbed out of the Jeep. “Move on out. Wait for me at the end of the drive.”

“Hey, Sam, no fraternizing with the natives!” one of the grinning Yanks called out as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Got any more like you at home?” another one yelled, and the rest joined in with various remarks that heated her cheeks.

“Get out of here,” Sam growled at them.

As the roar of the Jeep faded away down the long, curving drive, Polly suddenly felt shy. She stared down at her serviceable black shoes and wished she’d worn the high-heeled sandals she’d splashed her coupons on last month.