give us time to observe them all and help us decide which one will work best for us."
"Yes, m'm. Shall I ring the Tudor Arms again and tell them to forget the rooms, then?"
"Yes, do that, Polly. I'll let Violet know we'll have three extra for supper tonight."
Elizabeth turned to leave, then paused as Polly asked tentatively, "Your ladyship? About me leaving early?"
"Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. You can have the rest of the day, Polly. Just be here bright and early in the morning."
"Oh, thank you, m'm!" Polly bounced off her chair, and for a moment Elizabeth thought the girl was going to hug her. "I'll be here early tomorrow, I promise."
"Well, have a good time." As Polly rushed off, Elizabeth wondered if she should have cautioned the child to behave, then decided that should be her mother's job. It occurred to her that Edna might not even know Polly intended spending the day with a man almost ten years her senior. For a moment or two she wrestled with her conscience, then let the matter go. It was wartime, after all.
Twenty minutes later, after having enjoyed a brief romp with the dogs on the lawn, she was on her way down the hill to the village.
Much to her disappointment, Betty Stewart was not at home when she knocked on her door. Elizabeth waited a few moments just in case she had caught the woman at an inopportune moment, but after a minute or two of silence, she gave up. Her conversation with the recent widow would have to wait until later.
She was about to ease her leg over the saddle of her motorbike when a thin, high-pitched voice called her name. Turning, she saw the gaunt figure of Joan Plumstone hurrying down the garden path of the cottage next to the Stewart house.
Elizabeth did not particularly care for Joan. For one thing, she was a staunch friend of Rita Crumm—her second-in-command, so to speak. Joan was also an avid gossip, with a penchant for embroidering the truth if the facts fell short of the desired drama. Elizabeth did her best to avoid the woman whenever possible.
Evidently that would not be possible today. Joan had already reached her garden gate and had pulled it open. "Lady Elizabeth," she called out in her penetrating falsetto, "could I have a word with you, please?"
Elizabeth reluctantly turned to face the woman and offered a desultory greeting.
"Your ladyship." Joan came to a halt in front of her. "I was wondering if you've seen Rita yet? She wanted to ask you if you'd be available to help out at the summer fete this year."
Elizabeth did her best to sound interested. "Please tell her I'll be happy to do what I can."
She turned to leave, but was prevented from doing so when Joan stepped between her and her motorcycle. "Oh, I'm sure there's a great deal that you can do, Lady Elizabeth. We'll need someone to give out the prizes, of course, and judge the dance competition and the baby pageant. We're planning a dog contest as well, so we'llneed judges for that. Perhaps you and that nice major I see you with all the time?"
The gleam in her eyes made Elizabeth long to poke her in one of them. Or both. There were definite disadvantages to having to watch one's image. "I'll see what can be arranged," she said coolly. "It's this Saturday, isn't it?"
"Yes, your ladyship. I know it's short notice, but we weren't sure if we were going to have the fete this year. What with the war going on, and all. Seemed a bit frivolous, if you know what I mean. But you know Rita. Gets her teeth into something and won't let go. She said it would be good for morale. Whatever that means. We've all been working really hard to get everything ready on time."
"Very well, I'll do my best to set some time aside for the event."
"And the major?"
Elizabeth frowned, although Joan's face was the picture of innocence. "I'll mention it to him." She paused, then added deliberately, "If I should run into him."
"Thank you, your ladyship."
"Not at all." Elizabeth waited for the woman to step aside, but Joan seemed determined
"Yes, m'm. Shall I ring the Tudor Arms again and tell them to forget the rooms, then?"
"Yes, do that, Polly. I'll let Violet know we'll have three extra for supper tonight."
Elizabeth turned to leave, then paused as Polly asked tentatively, "Your ladyship? About me leaving early?"
"Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. You can have the rest of the day, Polly. Just be here bright and early in the morning."
"Oh, thank you, m'm!" Polly bounced off her chair, and for a moment Elizabeth thought the girl was going to hug her. "I'll be here early tomorrow, I promise."
"Well, have a good time." As Polly rushed off, Elizabeth wondered if she should have cautioned the child to behave, then decided that should be her mother's job. It occurred to her that Edna might not even know Polly intended spending the day with a man almost ten years her senior. For a moment or two she wrestled with her conscience, then let the matter go. It was wartime, after all.
Twenty minutes later, after having enjoyed a brief romp with the dogs on the lawn, she was on her way down the hill to the village.
Much to her disappointment, Betty Stewart was not at home when she knocked on her door. Elizabeth waited a few moments just in case she had caught the woman at an inopportune moment, but after a minute or two of silence, she gave up. Her conversation with the recent widow would have to wait until later.
She was about to ease her leg over the saddle of her motorbike when a thin, high-pitched voice called her name. Turning, she saw the gaunt figure of Joan Plumstone hurrying down the garden path of the cottage next to the Stewart house.
Elizabeth did not particularly care for Joan. For one thing, she was a staunch friend of Rita Crumm—her second-in-command, so to speak. Joan was also an avid gossip, with a penchant for embroidering the truth if the facts fell short of the desired drama. Elizabeth did her best to avoid the woman whenever possible.
Evidently that would not be possible today. Joan had already reached her garden gate and had pulled it open. "Lady Elizabeth," she called out in her penetrating falsetto, "could I have a word with you, please?"
Elizabeth reluctantly turned to face the woman and offered a desultory greeting.
"Your ladyship." Joan came to a halt in front of her. "I was wondering if you've seen Rita yet? She wanted to ask you if you'd be available to help out at the summer fete this year."
Elizabeth did her best to sound interested. "Please tell her I'll be happy to do what I can."
She turned to leave, but was prevented from doing so when Joan stepped between her and her motorcycle. "Oh, I'm sure there's a great deal that you can do, Lady Elizabeth. We'll need someone to give out the prizes, of course, and judge the dance competition and the baby pageant. We're planning a dog contest as well, so we'llneed judges for that. Perhaps you and that nice major I see you with all the time?"
The gleam in her eyes made Elizabeth long to poke her in one of them. Or both. There were definite disadvantages to having to watch one's image. "I'll see what can be arranged," she said coolly. "It's this Saturday, isn't it?"
"Yes, your ladyship. I know it's short notice, but we weren't sure if we were going to have the fete this year. What with the war going on, and all. Seemed a bit frivolous, if you know what I mean. But you know Rita. Gets her teeth into something and won't let go. She said it would be good for morale. Whatever that means. We've all been working really hard to get everything ready on time."
"Very well, I'll do my best to set some time aside for the event."
"And the major?"
Elizabeth frowned, although Joan's face was the picture of innocence. "I'll mention it to him." She paused, then added deliberately, "If I should run into him."
"Thank you, your ladyship."
"Not at all." Elizabeth waited for the woman to step aside, but Joan seemed determined
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