Death Comes to the Fair

by Catherine Lloyd

  Miss Chingford opened her mouth, and then for once obviously thought better of it, and walked out. Robert studied his intended.

  “You certainly know how to deal with her.”

  “As does Dr. Fletcher. He takes no notice at all of her tantrums. She will be very happy with him.”

  “So he says. Good night, my dear.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “I will go back home, and make sure I am well prepared and well rested for our adventure tonight.”

  Chapter 14

  Lucy checked the time on the kitchen clock as she crept by. Her father had stayed up to read in his study, but the rest of the house was reassuringly quiet. She’d put on her good boots, her oldest dress, and a dark cloak. She’d left off her bonnet in favor of a thick shawl for warmth. By the time she walked down the drive and to the gates of Kurland Hall it would be exactly midnight.

  Outside the sky was clear, and the moon a perfect pale circle. Hints of an incoming frost made the path glitter in front of her. She almost slipped once and slowed down, drawing her shawl over her head as the cold hit her. Across from the rectory, Kurland Church stood like a dark sentry guarding the village and blocking out the moonlight.

  A hoof scraped the cobblestones and Lucy turned the corner to discover Major Kurland and the gig awaiting her. The major was dressed in a heavy cloak and a workman’s hat. She assumed he thought he was now in disguise and had conveniently forgotten that the entire neighborhood knew both his gig and his superior horseflesh. There was nothing she could do about that, however, so she climbed aboard, motioning the major to stay put when he would’ve climbed down to assist her.

  He waited until they were clear of the village to speak.

  “It occurred to me about five minutes before you arrived that I should have borrowed one of the Home Farm carts and horses.”

  “But then you would have had to explain why you needed it.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  She forgot sometimes that he was so used to being in charge that it never occurred to him that someone might question his authority—apart from her, of course.

  She leaned closer against his side, pretending for a moment that they were just a farming couple returning home after a long day at market. She buried her face in his sleeve.

  “What is so amusing?” Major Kurland asked.

  “I was just imagining you being a simple farmer, and then I realized that was impossible to visualize.”

  “I am a simple farmer.”

  He sounded almost insulted.

  “Albeit in a rather grand manner?”

  “Granted, but then every landowner is at heart a farmer—even the prince regent.”

  She relapsed into silence as they covered the mile or so to Kurland St. Anne. There were few lights in the cottages they passed. A laborer’s day started at dawn and often ended at sunset. Eventually, the gig slowed, and Lucy prepared to alight and open the church gate for the major to drive through it.

  “Look!” he whispered and pointed out across the fields.

  There was a faint light bobbing along in the blackness, which stopped, disappeared, and then reappeared farther along.

  “I wonder if that is Mr. Thurrock?” Lucy said.

  “If it is, he is definitely trespassing. Let’s tie up the horse and start walking toward the priory ruins.” Major Kurland slowly got out of the gig and retrieved his cane, then held out his free hand to assist Lucy to the ground.

  “Wait a moment.”

  “What is it?”

  When she tried to move away he kept hold of her arm. She looked up at his shadowed but determined face.

  “If I decide to openly challenge Mr. Thurrock, you must promise to stay out of sight. I don’t want him involving you in this matter at all.”

  “As you wish, but if he attempts to hurt you, I will interfere.”

  “Then take this.” He handed over one of his pistols. “If he has a weapon, point the gun at him.”

  Lucy examined the heavy weapon. “But I don’t know how to use it.”

  “He won’t know that. All you have to do is point it at his head and threaten to shoot. Knowing Mr. Thurrock the thought that a mere female has a weapon will render him temporarily speechless, and I can take advantage of him.”

  She nodded. “All right.”

  “Then let’s be off.”

  * * *

  At first it wasn’t too hard going. The main field had been plowed out for the winter and it was easy to walk along the straight line of the furrows and ridges that led in the direction they wanted to pursue. After assisting Miss Harrington over the fence into the more open land in front of the priory, Robert discovered a gradual incline that made keeping his balance more difficult.

  The light he’d observed earlier seemed to appear and disappear in a frustratingly irregular pattern, sometimes seeming close by and at other times, miles away. He swore silently as his cane sunk into a muddy patch making him have to lean weight back on his bad leg.

  “Are you all right, Major?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He struggled on, half convinced by now that the dancing light was a figment of his imagination, or had something to do with one of the dark fairy tales his nurse had loved to terrify him with as a little boy.

  “Let’s stop a moment,” Miss Harrington said. “I need to get my bearings.”

  He was glad to comply, but unwilling to admit it. He looked around, aware of the lumps and bumps in the ground that indicated the outer walls and assorted buildings of the old priory. The moon was full and bathed the hillside in an eerie glow.

  “That light is most frustrating.” Miss Harrington sounded out of breath as well, which was obscurely comforting. “I wonder if it really is Mr. Thurrock after all?”

  “Did he return to the rectory?”

  “No.”

  “Then he must be out here somewhere, unless he’s decided to walk back to Cambridge.”

  “I smell smoke.”

  Robert slowly inhaled. “Smells sweet like grass.”

  “Of which there is very little at this time of year. Where do you think it’s coming from?”

  He gauged the direction of the slight breeze and pointed out into the blackness. “From up there, I’d say.”

  “But there aren’t any houses on the top of that ridge.”

  “Then maybe Mr. Thurrock started a fire to keep himself warm while he dug for his treasure?”

  “The main buildings of the priory are over here.” She pointed halfway up the slope. “And that’s where I last saw the light.”

  “Then what do you want to do first? Go up to the top and work our way down, maybe losing Mr. Thurrock if he finds what he was after, or should we ignore the smoke and focus our efforts on the priory?”

  She gave him a doubtful glance. “To be perfectly honest, Major Kurland, I don’t think you will manage the hill.”

  “Then perhaps we should separate. You discover what is going on up there, and I’ll make my way toward the priory. We can meet in the ruins.”

  She blinked at him. “You’ll allow me to do that by myself?”

  “Allow you? My dear girl, how do you think I’m going to stop you?”

  Her smile was breathtaking. “I’ll be as quick as I can, and whatever I find I’ll keep myself hidden, I promise you.”

  He watched her dart away, her skirts hitched up in one hand, and turned toward the fairy light dancing around the old priory. At the speed he was going, she’d probably be back before he was halfway there.

  * * *

  Lucy blinked as the smoke surrounded her, making the top of the hill look hazy and farther away. Whatever was burning on the small fire seemed to smell of flowers, and sunny days, and . . .

  She closed her mouth and carried on climbing upward straining to see what appeared to be figures . . . dancing around the fire.

  “Goodness me!” Lucy whispered as she crouched down in the tall grass. She couldn’t tell if the dancers were male or
female as they appeared to be wearing flowing white robes and floating above the earth.

  She scrubbed at her eyes and then closed them tight as she pressed her hands into the soil in an effort to retain a sense of herself: that she was still awake and not dreaming in her bed.

  When she opened her eyes the fire had gone, and she was alone in the blackness. How long had she crouched there in some kind of dream? Wisps of the smoke curled around her head, and headed lazily down toward the fields below.

  She went down as well. Her only thought to reach Major Kurland. She no longer cared about being quiet. Whoever had been up there had probably long gone and Major Kurland might be in danger. For some reason, her normal calm good sense deserted her as she gulped in the clean air, falling once, and then again in her haste to get back to the priory ruins.

  The light source within the ruins was steady now, and she kept her gaze fixed on it, hoping that the major would be somewhere close by.

  “Miss Harrington? Where the devil have you been?”

  She paused, one hand pressed to her chest as she heard his familiar voice cutting through both the darkness and her incipient panic.

  “Where are you?”

  “Over to your left. Where the light is.”

  She stumbled again but kept moving, her damp skirts impeding her progress.

  “I can see you now, Miss Harrington. Walk forward slowly. The surface is very uneven.”

  She did as he suggested, her heart thumping against the confines of her stays. As she entered the circle of light, the first thing she noticed were grazing sheep.

  “Major Kurland?”

  He stepped forward, a lantern held over his head, his expression grim. “I retrieved this from one of the sheep. It was hung around its neck. I feel like a fool.” He limped over to her and took her hand in a hard grip.

  “And then I found Mr. Thurrock.”

  He swung the light over toward the shadowed wall. It was indeed Mr. Nathaniel Thurrock sitting bolt upright, his eyes open, and his mouth slack with shock.

  Lucy gasped. “Is he . . . dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, good Lord.” She sank onto her knees and stared at the dead man. “What are we going to do now?”

  He sighed. “We’ll have to get help.”

  “From where?”

  “Either the Mallards or the Pethridges.”

  “Which is closer?”

  “Probably the Mallard farm, but as Pethridge is in my employ he would probably be more discreet about the matter.” He paused. “The thing is, I . . . twisted my ankle when I entered the damned ruins.”

  Lucy squared her shoulders. “I can walk across the fields to the Pethridge house.”

  He winced. “And create just the kind of scandal that your father will abhor.”

  “I don’t know what else I can do. I can’t get the gig up here and unhitching and riding the horse won’t help.”

  “We could just leave the . . . body here, and let someone else discover it in the morning.”

  “I wouldn’t feel right leaving him out here like this, would you?” Lucy held his gaze, noting the lines of pain bracketing his mouth. She’d wager that whatever he’d done to his leg was far more serious than just a sprained ankle. The dead Mr. Thurrock wasn’t the only one who needed rescuing.

  “I’ll fetch Mr. Pethridge, and he can bring you and Mr. Thurrock back to Kurland St. Mary.”

  Before Major Kurland could start another argument, Lucy turned away and started walking, her gaze fixed on the white fence line that denoted the boundary of the Kurland Hall Home Farm.

  It took her quite a while to skirt the hillside and come across a gate she could clamber over, and then a path that led up toward the dark shape of the farmhouse and outbuildings. By the time she was trudging up the drive the darkness was no longer absolute, and was touched with the hint of approaching dawn.

  There was a lantern in the cowshed, so she headed in that direction, her knees shaking so badly she could barely stand upright.

  “Is anyone there?” she called out.

  She almost jumped when a tall, fair-haired figure appeared at the door.

  “Miss Harrington?”

  “Is that you, Martin? Is your father here?”

  “He’s away at the cattle market in Stortford.” His gaze wandered over her disheveled state. “Can I help you with something, miss?”

  Lucy leaned against the door frame for support. “Major Kurland sent me. He’s out at the priory ruins and asks if you can bring a cart out there.”

  “Did he hurt himself, miss?”

  “Yes, I think he did, but that’s not the worst of it, Martin. We—I mean he—found a body out there.”

  Martin’s mouth gaped open. “A dead body?” He glanced back at the house. “Let me harness the horse and cart, leave a note for me mother, and we’ll be away.”

  * * *

  “No, I will come in with you. That is not negotiable,” Robert said firmly.

  They’d left the body with Dr. Fletcher, who had also bandaged up Robert’s ankle. He’d told Robert in no uncertain terms to go home and rest his leg, but he had no intention of doing that just yet. The farm cart driven by Martin Pethridge stood outside the rectory. Behind him the Kurland church clock chimed four times into the stillness.

  “But you will just make matters worse, Major. I assure you that no one will be awake, and I can get back to my bedchamber without anyone noticing.”

  Miss Harrington’s brown hair had come down, and her face was scratched. Her dress was covered in mud, and she’d lost her shawl at some point and was shivering. He wanted to gather her up, take her back to Kurland Hall, place her in his bed, and watch her while she slept.

  Even as he stared down at her the back door of the rectory opened to reveal Maisey and the rector, who was dressed in a very fancy embroidered banyan and a nightcap.

  “Lucy.”

  The rector’s expression was glacial as he looked past his daughter to Robert and the Pethridge cart.

  “Maisey was worried about your whereabouts, and came to find me.”

  “Papa, I—” Lucy stopped speaking when her father held up his hand.

  “Enough. We will not discuss our private business on the street.” He held the door open wide. “Perhaps you might wish to make yourself presentable while I have a talk with Major Sir Robert Kurland.”

  Robert limped over to talk to Martin. “You may go home. Thank you for your help tonight. I hope I can rely on both your discretion and your silence?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The way Martin’s eyes were bulging with excitement, Robert wasn’t convinced of either. He could only hope that once the older Pethridge heard the tale he would make sure his son kept it to himself.

  “Good night, then, Martin.”

  “Night, sir.”

  He turned wearily back to the rectory to find that Lucy and the maid had vanished, leaving only the obviously furious rector awaiting him. He doubted he looked in much better rig than Miss Harrington, having fallen to his knees in the mud himself.

  Grabbing his cane, he levered himself up over the back step and hobbled after the rector to his study. It was typical that he’d fallen on his bad leg and hurt his ankle. Patrick thought he might have broken it, but Robert had refused to accept the diagnosis. He wasn’t offered a seat, but he hadn’t expected to be, and stood as if at attention in front of the rector’s desk.

  The rector took his time arranging himself in his chair before looking up at Robert.

  “Do you have any explanation to offer me for dragging my daughter out into the night, and returning with her unchaperoned at four o’clock in the morning?”

  Robert briefly considered his options. “No, sir.”

  “Have you given any thought at all to the consequences for her reputation?”

  “As she is my betrothed I obviously thought she was safe in my care.”

  “Safe?” The rector pointed a finger at Robert. “Your flagrant
disregard for her safety is obvious in your foolhardy actions, sir! I suppose next you’ll be telling me you don’t want to marry her after all!”

  “I would never do that, Mr. Harrington,” Robert said firmly. “She is not to blame for what happened in the slightest. I take full responsibility for my actions, and accept the consequences.”

  Mr. Harrington sat back. “I almost wish I could tell you the engagement was at an end, but as you have so comprehensively ruined her reputation no other man would look at her, let alone marry her.”

  Robert set his jaw. He could only guess how Miss Harrington would feel and what she would say about her entire future being decided by two men. “I can only repeat, sir, that Miss Harrington’s virtue is safe with me. I respect her, and wish to marry her.”

  Silence fell as he locked gazes with the rector, who finally spoke.

  “Given the nature of the small community we live in, waiting months for a London wedding is no longer an option.” The rector paused. “I’ll give you a choice, Major. Either go up to London and procure a special license immediately, or accept that I will be posting the banns in Kurland St. Mary church on Sunday and for the next two Sundays after that and you will be married the day after!”

  Robert very slowly let out his breath, and tried to look suitably repentant.

  “I regret that in my current state of health I cannot travel to London, but I am more than willing for the banns to be posted on Sunday.”

  The rector nodded. “And in the meantime your behavior toward my daughter must be above reproach!”

  “Yes, sir.” Robert attempted to ease his weight off his ankle and onto his cane.

  The rector waved him to a seat. “Now sit down and tell me what the devil you were doing out in the middle of the night in the first place.”

  Robert took a deep breath. “Well, Mr. Harrington, it was like this . . .”

  * * *

  “Do you want a bath, miss?”

  Lucy smoothed her windblown hair out of her eyes. “Not at this hour, but if you could bring me up some hot water that would be most welcome.”

  “Yes, miss.” Maisey gathered up Lucy’s wet clothing and muddy boots. “I’ll put this lot in the laundry, and I’ll come back with the hot water.”