Her calls to the American base had been met with polite but firm reminders that information to the general public was restricted. Since she could hardly reveal the fact that she was madly in love with the major and therefore could hardly be considered general public, she was forced to bite her tongue and go back to the interminable waiting that so many British women endured these days.

If only Earl were not in the middle of a lengthy divorce, if only she were not the lady of the manor and expected to conduct herself with decorum, if only this damn war would finally end and put everyone out of their misery, life would once more be bearable.

Wallowing in her own personal hell, she was unaware of Violet addressing her until she heard her name spoken much too sharply by her housekeeper.

“Lizzie! For goodness’ sake, have you gone deaf?”

Elizabeth raised her head and frowned at Violet, who stood with her head tilted to one side, looking like an angry robin defending its nest. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve spoken to you three times, and you haven’t heard a blinking word I said.”

That was no excuse to talk to her in that manner, Elizabeth thought wryly, but then Violet had special privileges, thanks to her lifelong tenure at the manor and the fact that she and Martin were all that were left of the hordes of servants that once ran the Manor House so efficiently. “I’m sorry,” she said, mustering up a smile. “I was thinking about something else. What did you say?”

Violet still looked put out. “I said, the rag and bone man came again today. I gave him those old curtains we pulled down last year. They almost fell to bits when I shook them out but he seemed pleased with them.”

“That’s nice,” Elizabeth murmured.

“And stop worrying about the major.” Violet withdrew a pie dish from the oven and slapped the door shut with a bang. “He’ll be back soon enough.”