Read Manor House 01 - A Bicycle Built for Murder for Free Online Page B

door of the wardrobe. "There are so few men left to take care of the land now. If it wasn't for the women in the Land Army, there would be no farms for the men to come back to after the war."
    "Don't I know it." Winnie sighed. "Do you think that Beryl might be with this Robbie person?"
    "I think it's a possibility. Would you mind if I take the badge with me? Perhaps I'll be able to find out who this man is, and he might at least know where Beryl hasgone. I'd also like to take the train ticket, the letter, and the Land Army application. I really don't know what help they would be, but I'd like to take a closer look at everything."
    "Oh, thank you, Lady Elizabeth." Winnie rose slowly to her feet. "I don't know which way to turn anymore. I just want my little girl to come back home, that's all."
    "I know," Elizabeth said gently. "And I'm going to do everything I can to see that that happens."
    She left a few minutes later, having refused Winnie's offer of another cup of tea. It was beginning to get dark, and Evan would be coming back home from the fields about now. She was anxious to have a word with that young man.
    Evan's mother welcomed her unexpected visitor with flustered concern and effusive apologies for the state of the house. Daphne Potter was a better-than-average housewife and kept the ancient farmhouse spotless, but like most of the residents of Sitting Marsh, a visit from the lady of the manor warranted a thorough spring cleaning, and she was dismayed at the lack of opportunity to prepare her home for such an illustrious occasion.
    She ushered her guest into the front parlor, which was kept solely for the use of visitors. In spite of the summer warmth outside, the damp cushions of the sofa Elizabeth sat upon were a clear indication that the Potters hadn't had any visitors in some time. The room smelled faintly of apple cider, wet wool, and stale cigars. Elizabeth declined to take off her coat. Even the mansion, with it's drafty windows and lack of appreciable heating in the winter, didn't feel as chillingly moist as this room.
    "I suppose you've come to talk to Evan," Daphne Potter said when Elizabeth refused her offer of tea. "He'll be in any minute. He was talking to George for a while,so that put him behind a bit. Such a shame about Beryl. I wonder where she can be. Our Evan is near out of his mind with worry, poor lamb. Thinks the world of her, he does."
    "Yes, well, they've been going out together for some time," Elizabeth murmured. "I don't suppose Evan has any ideas where she might be?"
    "None at all. Complete mystery to him. He were that upset when he came home Saturday night. I heard him slam the door really hard, the way he always does when he and Beryl have been fighting. I thought they'd had another row."
    "What time was that?" Elizabeth asked, trying to sound casual about it. "When he came home Saturday, I mean."
    "Oh, must have been after eleven. Jim had just come to bed. He always stays up to listen to the latest news. Don't know why. It's all so depressing, isn't it. Though I must say, Mr. Churchill has some good things to say. Makes one really proud to be British, that's what I say."
    "Did Evan say anything when he came in on Saturday night?"
    Daphne Potter looked surprised. "Not a word. I didn't know until the next day that Beryl never turned up to meet him. Spent all day moping around the house, he did. Went and helped his dad in the fields that afternoon. He never does that as a rule. Could have knocked Jim down with a feather."
    She turned sharply as a door slammed somewhere deep in the house. "That'll be Evan and our Jim back now. If you'll excuse me, Lady Elizabeth, I'll go and tell them you're here. I expect Evan will want to clean up a bit before he talks to you."
    "Oh, that really isn't necessary," Elizabeth said, knowing full well her protest would be ignored.
    "He won't be long. Are you sure I can't get you a nice cup of tea?"
    Elizabeth would have preferred something a little stronger,