An Unmentionable Murder (20 page)

The sister's face took on a grave expression that terrified Elizabeth. “He's in critical condition. The doctors are hopeful they can save him, but that's all I can tell you at the moment.”

Weak with relief at the news he was still alive, Elizabeth said quickly, “I want to see him.”

“I'm afraid he's not allowed visitors. He needs to rest.” She took a watch from her pocket and looked at it. “If you'll excuse me . . .”

“I won't disturb him. I just—” Elizabeth paused, afraid her voice would betray her.

“He's heavily sedated,” the sister said, looking impatient. “He won't know you're there.”

One of the officers stepped forward, holding his cap in his hands. “This is Lady Elizabeth Hartleigh Compton,” he said, his voice strident and formal. “She is responsible for Major Monroe's welfare. I must insist that you allow her into the major's room. He would want her there.”

The sister looked from him back to Elizabeth. “Oh, I didn't realize . . . excuse me, your ladyship. Let me speak to the doctor and I'll let you know as soon as I get his permission.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth watched her hurry off, then turned to the officer who had come so gallantly to her rescue. “That was very kind of you, Captain Crawford. I'm afraid I'm not thinking very clearly. While I'm about it, I'd like to thank you for bringing me here tonight.” She looked around at the solemn faces surrounding her. “I'd like to thank all of you for coming.”

“Sure, sure,” the men murmured, looking embarrassed. “Anything for the major.”

“Since the major can't have visitors,” the captain said, gesturing at the door, “why don't you guys take off and find a bar somewhere? I'll stay with her ladyship until she's ready to go home. I'll catch you up on any news later. There's nothing you can do if you stay, anyway.”

It took some persuading on the captain's part, but eventually the men reluctantly drifted off, leaving Elizabeth alone with him.

Seated in the quiet waiting room, she felt inordinately weary. Earl was alive for now, but she had no idea the extent of his injuries, or indeed, if he would pull through. She felt a tremendous sense of urgency, afraid that if she didn't see him soon, she could be too late. She couldn't bear the thought of never having the chance to say good-bye.

“Don't worry,” Captain Crawford said quietly. “The major's a tough guy. He'll make it.”

“I hope you're right.” She gave him a wan smile. “This is very kind of you, Captain, but it really isn't necessary for you to sit with me. I feel guilty keeping you away from your friends.”

The officer waved away her comments with an impatient hand. “Earl's a great guy. I'm sure every one of those guys would rather be here than passing the time in a bar.”

Her throat threatened to close on her and she quickly swallowed. “Tell me about your home, Captain. You must have family waiting for you in America.”

“I do, and if it's okay with you, your ladyship, I'd like it if you called me Duane.”

This time her smile was wider. “Of course, Duane. Now tell me about your hometown.”

For the next forty minutes she listened to Duane Crawford's account of his life in Texas, only half aware of what he said, her attention distracted by her gnawing worry about Earl.

If the captain noticed her inattentiveness, he was much too polite to show it, and she made a mental note to express her gratitude later, when she was more composed.

He was telling her about a parade that was held every July the Fourth in his hometown, and how he and his brother rode in a cart pulled by two horses, when he broke off abruptly in mid sentence.

Following his gaze, Elizabeth felt a leap of apprehension when she saw the sister heading toward them.

“Here comes the old battle-axe,” Duane Crawford muttered. “Guess we'll find out now how bad Earl really is.”

CHAPTER 15

“Madam has gone to North Horsham,” Violet said as she put the last cup and saucer away in the kitchen cupboard. “I don't know when she'll be back.”

Sadie glanced up at the clock. “It's almost ten o'clock. Did she take her motorcycle? How's she going to ride it in the dark?”

“Don't ask me. I'm only the housekeeper.” Violet slammed the door shut.

“She must be so upset. She shouldn't be riding in that state—”

“It's not up to us to tell Madam what she should or shouldn't do.”

“You do it all the time,” Sadie pointed out.

“That's my business, not yours.” Violet glared at her. “Why aren't you in bed, anyhow?”

Sadie plopped down on a chair next to the table. “Why aren't you? You're always in bed by this time.”

“I'm waiting up for her ladyship.” Violet started cleaning the stove with a dishrag.

“I cleaned that once already,” Sadie commented.

“Well, I'm cleaning it again.”

“All right, all right, keep your flipping hair on.” Sadie propped an elbow on the table. “I came to tell her ladyship that Martin is home. I saw him come up the driveway.”

Violet stopped cleaning and stared at her. “Walking?”

Sadie shook her head. “He got out of a posh black motorcar. Then it drove off. I couldn't see who was driving it. The moon wasn't bright enough that side of the house. I did see it ride over the flower bed as it went around the driveway, though. Desmond's going to throw a fit about that.”

Violet came over to the table. “Never mind Desmond. How long ago was this?”

Sadie shrugged. “About half an hour ago, I suppose.”

“Why didn't you come and tell me straight away? I could have asked Martin where he'd been. He's more than likely asleep by now.”

“He wouldn't have told you if you'd asked him.”

“He might have done if I'd told him you'd seen the motorcar.”

“Well, it's too late now, ain't it.”

“
Isn't
it.” Violet turned back to the stove. “I'll have to ask him in the morning.”

Sadie drew invisible patterns on the table with her finger. “Do you think the major's dead?” she asked abruptly.

Violet went very still, then said quietly, “I sincerely hope not, but if he is, well, that's war, isn't it.”

Sadie felt a spurt of anger. “How can you say that?

Everyone knows her ladyship is bonkers over him. This will break her heart. I know how I felt about Joe when I thought he wasn't coming back, and I don't even love him.”

Violet sent a sly look at her over her shoulder. “Don't you?”

Sadie stared at her. “Well, no . . . of course not . . . I mean . . .” She let her voice trail off.
Did she love him?
No, she couldn't. Joe was Joe . . . a nice chap, a good friend, that was all. “He's a friend, that's all,” she repeated aloud, more to convince herself than Violet.

“I hope you mean that,” Violet said, her back to Sadie once more. “Because if you don't, then you're in for a heartbreak every bit as painful as her ladyship's.”

A cold feeling crept up from Sadie's stomach and settled in her chest. “I wouldn't fall for no Yank,” she said roughly. “I'm not that blinking stupid. Nor would Polly, anymore. What's more, if Major Monroe is dead, that will make us all the more sure of it.”

The telephone rang just then, startling them both out of their wits. Sadie held her breath as she watched Violet pick up the receiver and hold it to her ear.

The housekeeper kept murmuring, “I see, yes, I see,” until Sadie could have screamed with frustration.

Finally, Violet hung up the receiver, but then stood quietly for long moments with her back still turned.

Staring at that rigid spine, Sadie felt sick. Afraid to ask, she could only wait, the feeling of dread growing ever stronger.

 
Elizabeth watched the sister hurry toward her, her fingers curled tightly in her palms.

Duane rose to his feet, his gaze also intent on the nurse as she reached them. She gave him a quick glance, then turned to Elizabeth.

“You may go in to see him,” she said, her voice grave, “but I must ask you to stay only for a moment or two. I'm sorry to say the major's condition is extremely serious, and he must not be disturbed.”

Elizabeth swallowed. She'd never been so frightened in all her life. If only her father were here to give her strength. He had always been there for her when she was growing up, a bastion of understanding, advice, and encouragement. But her father was gone . . . lost in the rubble of a bombed-out building, along with her dear departed mother. She'd lost so much, and now, it seemed, she was about to lose everything that remained to make her happy.

Her legs felt weak as she followed the sister down the long, narrow, bleak corridor, and she urged herself to remain strong. Pausing at the door to the ward, the sister turned to her. “Remember, no more than a minute or two.”

Elizabeth nodded, then walked slowly into the quiet ward, braced for whatever might be facing her.

On either side, men lay silent in their beds, some with eyes closed, others staring at the ceiling, and some with their faces covered in bandages. As she passed each bed, her dread grew. She knew nothing about Earl's injuries, knew nothing about what to expect.

When she finally spotted him, her first reaction was a rush of relief. He wore no bandages around his head, and apart from a nasty graze across his pale cheek, his face was unmarked. In fact, if it hadn't been for his lack of color, she might have thought he was sleeping, so peaceful did he look with his dark head on the pillow, his strong features relaxed.

Upon further inspection, however, she noticed the bandages wrapped around his right arm, and a cage under the blankets suggested he had injuries to his legs. For a moment his pain was her pain, and she ached to hold him.

A chair had been placed by the side of the bed, and she sat down on it, hardly daring to breathe. She longed to call his name, touch his hand, anything to reassure herself that he was alive and knew she was there.

Instead she concentrated on the rise and fall of his chest beneath the white sheet, and prayed as she'd never prayed before. Mindful of the sister's warning, she sat for as long as she dared, then rose to go.

“I won't say good-bye,” she whispered. “I'll just say get well, and I'll be back soon.” She leaned over him and dropped a soft kiss on his forehead. He was so still, so unresponsive. Frightened, she stared at his chest again, relieved to see the steady rise and fall had not abated.

“Get well for me, my love,” she whispered. “I need you so.” Turning, she hurried out of the ward before she made a fool of herself and let the tears fall.

Duane Crawford stood as she hurried into the waiting room, his expression apprehensive.

Unable to speak just then, she simply shook her head.

“Come on,” Duane said, taking hold of her arm, “I'll get you home.”

She followed him out into the night, numb with weariness and a cold dread that would not subside, no matter how much she tried to look on the positive side.

He was a strong man, she tried to assure herself. Healthy, vigorous, and strong willed. He had survived what should have been a fatal crash, according to what she'd been told. He would come out of that hospital alive. She had to believe that or she'd go out of her mind.

Duane did his best to cheer her up on the long drive back to Sitting Marsh. His determinedly cheerful patter helped keep her mind from dwelling on the worst scenarios, and he even made her smile as they reached the long driveway up to the manor.

“I'm terribly grateful to you for giving up your time like this,” she said as she climbed out of the jeep. “It was extremely kind of you to take me to the hospital, and I know how much your thoughtfulness would mean to Earl. Thank you so very much.”

Duane touched his cap with the tips of his fingers. “My pleasure, ma'am. I just wish I'd had a car instead of having to take you in a jeep. It's not exactly a comfortable ride.”

Elizabeth smiled. “It got me there, and that's all I could ask.”

“Well, I reckon it's better than a horse and cart at that.” He touched his cap again. “Good night, your ladyship.”

Deep in thought, Elizabeth made her way between the hothouses around the mansion to the kitchen door. She found Violet had left the door unlocked, much to her relief. Opening it, Elizabeth was startled to see both Violet and Sadie seated at the kitchen table.

“Why aren't you in bed?” she demanded as they both turned to look at her.

“We were waiting for you to come home,” Violet said, staring at her with an odd expression on her face.

“How's the major, m'm?” Sadie asked anxiously.

“He's alive.” Elizabeth slipped out of her coat and sank onto the empty chair. “That's all I really know right now.”

“They wouldn't let you see him?” Violet asked.

“I saw him.” Elizabeth let out her breath on a long sigh. “He was sedated. He didn't know I was there.”

Sadie made a sympathetic tutting sound. “Was he banged up a lot?”

“Sadie!” Violet wagged a finger in her face. “You know better than to ask questions like that.”

“I only wanted to know—,” Sadie began, but Elizabeth interrupted.

“It's all right, Violet. I really don't know, Sadie. All I know is that his face seems to be unharmed.”

“Well, that's good,” Sadie said earnestly. “At least it weren't like Polly's Sam, with his face all messed up—”