Elizabeth nodded and smiled at the women standing behind her, then made her way past them to the door. As she passed the window display, something caught her eye. She paused, frowning at a brace of chickens residing on a bed of green straw. The same kind of straw she'd spotted in the cricket pavilion.
Obviously Percy wasn't being completely honest with her. Something else was going on at the pavilion, other than a haven for lovers or private parties. And Percy Bodkins apparently knew more about it than he was willing to admit.
CHAPTER
8
Elizabeth continued on her way, wondering what she should do about her discovery. She didn't like it one bit. On the other hand, dealing in black market goods wasn't really hurting anyone, and could very well benefit the villagers who had been sorely deprived of wholesome food.
She had been known to bend the rules a little herself in order to help out the less privileged. Maybe she should simply let it lie. It was doubtful that either Sid or George, being little more than reluctant remnants of Sitting Marsh's local constabulary, would notice that the villagers were eating a bit better nowadays. Even if they did detect an excess of formerly unobtainable edibles floating around town, it was unlikely they would do anything about it.
Still absorbed in the problem, Elizabeth almost missed the elderly lady emerging from the post office across thestreet. By the time she recognized Henrietta Jones, the old woman was hobbling off at a surprising speed down the road.
Without thinking, Elizabeth called out after her, intending to invite her to share a pot of tea in Bessie's bakeshop. Henrietta, of course, failed to hear her, and Elizabeth watched her turn the corner and disappear. Someone, it seemed, had been kind enough to give Henrietta a lift into town. Perhaps she needn't have worried about her after all.
Polly seemed a little more cheerful on the way back, and even managed to carry on a shouted conversation as they rode sedately up the hill to the Manor House.
Everyone had paid their rents, much to Elizabeth's relief. She hated having to remind her tenants they owed money. It didn't happen very often, but when it did, she felt embarrassed by the fact that she needed the money every bit as much as they did. Since she had turned over more of the accounting to Polly, she had impressed upon the girl the need to keep her financial position a secret from everyone.
The villagers looked up to the lady of the manor, relying on her to take care of them in times of crisis, to offer them advice and solutions to their problems, and to protect their homes and their way of life. If they knew that she was struggling to keep the Manor House solvent in the face of mounting debts, they would lose confidence in her. She would lose their respect.
Since she had a tradition to uphold, established by a long line of noble ancestors, and in view of the fact that she was the first woman to hold such a position, she would go to great lengths to keep her unfortunate and, with any luck temporary, lack of funds a secret. Therefore Polly was on notice that should the news leak out, she would be immediately dismissed.
Major Monroe was the only outsider who knew abouther state of affairs, and she could trust him implicitly to be discreet.
Thinking of Earl, she wondered what he thought about his squadron leader's arrest. She was rather anxious to talk to him about that, but the meeting would have to wait for now. First she had to deal with the American investigators, and she wasn't looking forward to it at all.
When the two men were ushered into the library that afternoon by a disapproving Martin, Elizabeth was instantly reminded of the American movies she'd seen about the FBI.
Both men wore trilbies, which Elizabeth had recently learned were called fedoras by the Americans. They also wore raincoats over their uniforms, belted at the waist. She had never been able to understand why American men tied their belts instead
Obviously Percy wasn't being completely honest with her. Something else was going on at the pavilion, other than a haven for lovers or private parties. And Percy Bodkins apparently knew more about it than he was willing to admit.
CHAPTER
8
Elizabeth continued on her way, wondering what she should do about her discovery. She didn't like it one bit. On the other hand, dealing in black market goods wasn't really hurting anyone, and could very well benefit the villagers who had been sorely deprived of wholesome food.
She had been known to bend the rules a little herself in order to help out the less privileged. Maybe she should simply let it lie. It was doubtful that either Sid or George, being little more than reluctant remnants of Sitting Marsh's local constabulary, would notice that the villagers were eating a bit better nowadays. Even if they did detect an excess of formerly unobtainable edibles floating around town, it was unlikely they would do anything about it.
Still absorbed in the problem, Elizabeth almost missed the elderly lady emerging from the post office across thestreet. By the time she recognized Henrietta Jones, the old woman was hobbling off at a surprising speed down the road.
Without thinking, Elizabeth called out after her, intending to invite her to share a pot of tea in Bessie's bakeshop. Henrietta, of course, failed to hear her, and Elizabeth watched her turn the corner and disappear. Someone, it seemed, had been kind enough to give Henrietta a lift into town. Perhaps she needn't have worried about her after all.
Polly seemed a little more cheerful on the way back, and even managed to carry on a shouted conversation as they rode sedately up the hill to the Manor House.
Everyone had paid their rents, much to Elizabeth's relief. She hated having to remind her tenants they owed money. It didn't happen very often, but when it did, she felt embarrassed by the fact that she needed the money every bit as much as they did. Since she had turned over more of the accounting to Polly, she had impressed upon the girl the need to keep her financial position a secret from everyone.
The villagers looked up to the lady of the manor, relying on her to take care of them in times of crisis, to offer them advice and solutions to their problems, and to protect their homes and their way of life. If they knew that she was struggling to keep the Manor House solvent in the face of mounting debts, they would lose confidence in her. She would lose their respect.
Since she had a tradition to uphold, established by a long line of noble ancestors, and in view of the fact that she was the first woman to hold such a position, she would go to great lengths to keep her unfortunate and, with any luck temporary, lack of funds a secret. Therefore Polly was on notice that should the news leak out, she would be immediately dismissed.
Major Monroe was the only outsider who knew abouther state of affairs, and she could trust him implicitly to be discreet.
Thinking of Earl, she wondered what he thought about his squadron leader's arrest. She was rather anxious to talk to him about that, but the meeting would have to wait for now. First she had to deal with the American investigators, and she wasn't looking forward to it at all.
When the two men were ushered into the library that afternoon by a disapproving Martin, Elizabeth was instantly reminded of the American movies she'd seen about the FBI.
Both men wore trilbies, which Elizabeth had recently learned were called fedoras by the Americans. They also wore raincoats over their uniforms, belted at the waist. She had never been able to understand why American men tied their belts instead
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