Wedding Rows Read Online Free PDF

sobered as silence fell over the crowd.
    “I’m sure if anyone remembers anything he or she will let you know,” Elizabeth said. Addressing everyone in general, she added more loudly, “I’m sure we all want to find out who committed this terrible deed, do we not?”
    A feeble chorus of agreement answered her and she turned back to George. “I’m leaving for the manor now, George. I assume you will wait for Dr. Sheridan. Shall we expect you later?”
    “Thank you, m’m. Much obliged, I’m sure.” George touched the narrow brim of his helmet and tucked the notepad in his pocket. “In the meantime, I must ask everyone who attended the wedding and doesn’t live here to stay in Sitting Marsh until I’ve had a chance to question them.”
    There were mutters of protest from some of the guests, and everyone started talking amongst themselves.
    Feeling somewhat unsettled herself, Elizabeth led the way from the hall, followed by Earl, with George close behind. Furtive glances from some of the women were directed at them as they left. Well aware that speculation was rife in the village about her relationship with the major, Elizabeth was constantly on guard against fueling the gossip.
    There were times, however, when she refused to sacrifice what little time she could scrounge with him, which is why she’d accepted his offer to drive her to the church in his Jeep. No matter what the villagers might make of that. In any case, riding with Earl was a little more elegant than sitting astride her motorcycle, which was her usual mode of transport.
    Roaring up the hill in the Jeep toward the manor, she contemplated the disturbing events. If the stranger was indeed a friend of Tess’s and had been invited to the wedding by her, the poor child was in for a terrible shock when she heard the news.
    Which brought up the question: if he was a friend of hers, why would she go to the Tudor Arms without him? Had they quarreled, as Malcolm had suggested? If so, things wouldn’t look too good for Tess.
    “Well, at least they can’t blame this one on the three musketeers.”
    Earl’s voice, raised to be heard above the roar of the engine, startled her. “I’d almost forgotten about them,” she called back. “Are you still having problems with them?”
    “Three of our vehicles were disabled last weekend. Our guys had to walk back to base. I just wish I could get my hands on them. We have enough problems to deal with right now, without worrying about a bunch of hoodlums bent on mischief. If this keeps up someone’s going to get hurt.”
    “Oh, dear.” Ever since Elizabeth had heard about the three masked men from London visiting American bases and damaging property to harass the American servicemen, she’d been worried that their mischief-making would escalate into real violence.
    Or even that the Americans would retaliate with disastrous results. So far the skirmishes had caused little more than a few bruises. But there was a limit to the victims’ patience, especially when they were already dealing with unbelievable stress.
    “I can’t believe they’re getting away with it,” Earl said, as they tore around the curve on the hill. “They’ve got the military hunting for them, as well as your constables. You’d think someone would be able to grab them.”
    “Apparently they’re extremely adept at slipping the noose.” Thankful for the long twilight evenings, Elizabeth hung on grimly as the Jeep swayed from side to side. Riding at this speed was infinitely more dangerous in the dark, thanks to the blackout, which forbade lights on all vehicles and in all windows. “They’ve had a lot of practice.”
    “Yeah, you’re right about that.” Earl straightened out the wheel. “So, any ideas who might have killed the wedding guest back there?”
    “Hardly. We don’t even know why he was at the wedding.”
    “Well, if the bridesmaid knew him, I guess her parents will know him, too.”
    “That’s what I’m hoping.”