Death Comes to the Fair

by Catherine Lloyd

  Mrs. Fielding sat down heavily in her chair. “I don’t believe you. Firstly, there is nothing to confess, and even if there were Grace wouldn’t betray her own family.”

  “Except that she has.” Lucy fixed the cook with an unwavering stare. “She says she was lied to by you and all her sisters. That you used her skills and knowledge to frighten and intimidate the Thurrocks, and that when she asked you to stop she was ignored.”

  “Grace is the youngest child. She likes to draw attention to herself by making up stories.” Mrs. Fielding shrugged. “No one will believe her.”

  “I believe her. She also said that Nathaniel Thurrock was deliberately led on a wild-goose chase over at the priory ruins, which led to his death.”

  “She drew him the map. Maybe she’s feeling guilty about her part in his unfortunate death, and is blaming others to make herself feel better.”

  “Do you have no sense of shame?” Lucy raised an eyebrow. “You are willing to incriminate both your youngest sister and your niece to prove your own innocence? One might begin to see why Grace feels taken advantage of.”

  Color flared on Mrs. Fielding’s cheeks. “You have no right to judge me or my family.”

  “I do if they decide to plot together to murder two men.”

  “Accidents, both of them.”

  “I might agree with you about the first. I suspect it wasn’t Mr. Ezekiel Thurrock who was supposed to get that note. In her eagerness to be helpful, Maisey gave it to the wrong brother, and you killed the wrong man.”

  Mrs. Fielding said nothing, her lips pressed tightly together.

  “Mr. Nathaniel was the one causing all the problems, wasn’t he?”

  “Nathaniel Thurrock and his descendants were not welcome in this village. He should have heeded our advice and left before the curse hit him.”

  “A curse the Turner family laid on the Thurrocks?”

  “Not me or my sisters, but our ancestors. Why do you think the Thurrocks left Kurland St. Mary in the first place?”

  “Because an earlier Mrs. Thurrock brought the Witch-Finder General to the village?”

  “Oh, you know about that?” Mrs. Fielding folded her hands. “Then you know that Matthew Hopkins unjustly accused several of the villagers, including the Turners, of witchcraft. The Thurrocks were the prime accusers. All the witches were hanged. They cursed his name as they went to their deaths.” She shook her head. “Nathaniel was stupid to come back here, but that’s why he died. No one had to do a thing to make it happen.”

  “That would almost make sense, Mrs. Fielding, apart from the fact that Mr. Ezekiel Thurrock had been living peacefully in Kurland St. Mary for thirty years. Surely if the ‘curse’ killed Nathaniel, it would’ve also done away with his brother?”

  “I dunno, miss. Mayhap he was protected by his religion and the church.”

  “But your sister Grace says you were all very involved in making sure the curse came true in the present.”

  “As I said, she likes to exaggerate.” Mrs. Fielding looked around. “Where is she then? Did she write you a letter, or did she come back?”

  “I’m not at liberty to share that information with you, but I will mention—just in case you are planning to do away with me—that she told Major Kurland her story, not just me.” She paused. “I hope you don’t intend to try to kill him as well?”

  “Stupid girl,” Mrs. Fielding muttered.

  “Are you referring to me or to your sister?”

  “You’re both meddlers.” Mrs. Fielding stood up. “I’ve had enough of this. Now get out of my kitchen before I—”

  She stopped speaking, her gaze fixed on the back door. Lucy didn’t need to turn her head to know who had emerged from hiding.

  “Mrs. Fielding. Stay where you are,” Major Kurland said. “Now perhaps we can have the real truth.”

  Lucy watched transfixed as he came closer, his gaze fixed on his prey.

  “Do you think we are fools who believe an ancient curse was activated simply because a man returned to the birthplace of his ancestors?”

  Mrs. Fielding didn’t flinch. “His family is responsible for many unnecessary deaths. He deserved to be cursed.”

  “I have some sympathy for those who were unjustly accused, but that happened almost two hundred years ago, which doesn’t explain why it was so vitally important to get rid of the Thurrocks now.” He leaned on his cane. “If revenge and ‘justice’ were your aims, you had Ezekiel Thurrock living quietly in his cottage for years to play with. But that high-minded aim isn’t the real root of this, is it?”

  “What exactly are you trying to say, sir?”

  “This is all about property and money. I’ve been doing some research of my own in the Kurland records, and this morning I received a very interesting note from Mr. Fletcher. Originally, the Thurrocks, the Pethridges, the Mallards, and the Turners were all friends—until someone discovered the treasure in the old priory cellars. The chests of coins and plate buried to avoid falling into the hands of the original despoilers were split equally among the families.”

  “Which is why they all had money during a period of civil war,” Lucy said.

  Major Kurland nodded. “That treasure, of course, should have belonged to the Kurland estate on whose land it was situated.”

  Mrs. Fielding looked unimpressed.

  “Due to the estate needing funds the Turners were able to buy their land, as did the Mallards, and the Pethridges. Mr. Fletcher found a record of all these purchases. The Thurrocks wasted their money, and from what I can see in the Kurland records were soon in debt. That’s when the trouble started. The Thurrocks argued that because their investments had been lost due to the war they should be given more of the original treasure. No one else agreed, and they fell out with their neighbors.”

  Lucy discreetly angled a chair in Major Kurland’s direction and he sat down, never taking his eyes off Mrs. Fielding.

  “When an opportunity to pay back his fellow conspirators came along, the original Ezekiel Thurrock took it, and the Witch-Finder General descended on the village. Several of the Turner family were implicated, as were the Mallards, and Pethridges. The Pethridge family lost their land, and were forced to sell it back to the Kurland estate for use as the new Home Farm. The Thurrocks were rewarded by a grant of money from friends of Matthew Hopkins, and negotiated to buy the land containing the priory.

  “Of course, when the Kurlands found out after the war how the Thurrocks had behaved they were appalled, and made it very difficult for the Thurrocks to remain in the village.”

  “Which is why they leased the land back to the Kurlands and left for Cambridge,” Lucy added.

  “Indeed. According to the rector, Nathaniel intended to write a book about this and right a few wrongs.” Major Kurland slammed his hand down flat on the table. “That’s the real reason why you and your sisters chose to kill two innocent men.”

  “Nathaniel Thurrock was not innocent. He wanted to bring us all down—to shame our families, to take our lands, and to claim everything for his own with his passel of lies and half-truths.”

  “He is certainly not blameless in this matter, but he is dead and you and your sisters are responsible.” Major Kurland raised his voice. “James? Come in here and escort Mrs. Fielding to Kurland Hall, where she will be reunited with her sisters, Mrs. Pethridge and Mrs. Mallard.”

  Mrs. Fielding stood up, her gaze steely. “You are a hard man, Major Kurland, but I doubt any judge will convict us when they hear what the Thurrocks did to our families all those years ago.”

  “That, Mrs. Fielding, is out of my hands. I’ll be sending you to Hertford to await the quarterly sessions.” He paused to rise slowly to his feet. “But please be aware that even if you aren’t convicted you will be the ones no longer welcome in this village.”

  James came in and walked over to Mrs. Fielding, who still seemed disinclined to believe she was really going to be facing a trial. Lucy devoutly hoped she was wrong.

  W
ithin moments she departed, James holding her elbow, his expression determined. Major Kurland sat down again and took a deep breath.

  “Mr. Nathaniel Thurrock was a fool, but he didn’t deserve to die like that. Miss Grace said they staged the whole thing—the dancers on the hill, the smoke, the lights on the sheep—to stop him ever looking in the right place. She thought it was amusing until she found out that he’d died, and that someone had slipped an ill-wish she’d made into his pocket.”

  “Why did they do that?”

  “Because someone couldn’t resist? The need to exact revenge and his family’s misdeeds trumped common sense. Mayhap he did die of natural causes, but I’ll always believe he died of fright, and they caused that quite deliberately.” He reached for her hand on the table. “And your comment about Ezekiel’s death being a mistake was inspired.”

  “I think Mrs. Fielding received the gargoyle from the Pethridges, and waited in the church at seven for Nathaniel to appear. She probably didn’t even know she’d killed the wrong man until the next day.”

  “Which meant they had to start all over again and plot another death.” He sighed. “If Miss Grace hadn’t discovered she had a conscience, I doubt we would have ever solved this conundrum, do you?”

  “I think we might have.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I appreciate your confidence in me. Now all we have to do is survive the Thurrock funeral, listen to the banns being read in church on two more Sundays, and we can be wed.”

  Chapter 22

  It was so lovely to have Anna home once more—especially on this particular day when an event Lucy had begun to believe might never happen was due to take place. Her bedchamber was full of women, most of them hindering rather than helping her dress, but she didn’t mind. Her thoughts were already far ahead, fixed on the calm beauty of Kurland St. Mary church, where, she hoped, Major Sir Robert Kurland supported by Mr. Stanford and Dr. Fletcher was awaiting her.

  “Lucy!”

  She turned to Penelope, who was holding out a pair of stockings.

  “Concentrate!”

  Anna inserted herself between them. “There’s no need to shout, Penelope. Lucy, which stockings do you prefer, and which garter?”

  Lucy pointed randomly at the prettiest pair. “Those. What time is it?”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be fashionably late.” Major Kurland’s aunt Rose came over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll go down to the church now, and see if I can calm Robert’s nerves.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled up at the older woman. “He can get a little impatient when he doesn’t get what he wants immediately.”

  Aunt Rose left with Dorothea and Sophia, leaving Lucy with her two attendants, who were dressed in their favorite gowns. Penelope wore Lucy’s second best dress as if it had been made for her. Despite Aunt Jane’s disappointment in the wedding not being held in London, she had been gracious enough to bring down all the bride clothes Lucy had ordered that had been finished, so she had plenty of new dresses to choose from.

  She finished putting on her stockings. Anna had to help her with her garters because her hands were shaking so badly.

  “Now the dress.” Penelope said.

  Lucy observed herself in the mirror and saw a sophisticated stranger in a daffodil yellow dress with a white lace overlay, puffed sleeves and a flounced hem. Ringlets cascaded from a knot on the crown of her head.

  “There. You look beautiful,” Anna said softly as she placed a light shawl around Lucy’s shoulders. “Major Kurland is a very lucky man indeed.”

  They proceeded down the stairs, the house curiously quiet, as the entire staff was already at the church. It was strange not hearing Mrs. Fielding’s raised voice from the kitchen, but Lucy refused to think about that woman on her wedding day. She and her sisters were currently being held in Hertford awaiting the next session of the assizes.

  It was windy and all the ladies had to hold on to their shawls and skirts as they quickly crossed the road to the church. Those in the village who hadn’t managed to find a spot inside had gathered by the door to wish Lucy well. She smiled graciously, accepting their good wishes for her future happiness with her somewhat irascible and unpredictable major. She would probably need every single one of them.

  “Lucy?”

  At the back of the church, someone stepped out of the shadows, and for a second Lucy froze. With a smothered shriek she leapt into her brother Anthony’s arms and held him tight.

  “Good morning, sis. Don’t squeeze me too tight, don’t want to spoil the look of my rig.”

  She touched his face. After almost a year away from home with his regiment Anthony looked taller, and was sporting a dashing mustache and sideburns.

  “How on earth did you manage to get leave?” She finally managed to speak.

  “Your future husband pulled in a few favors, and here I am. I can only stay until tomorrow. Major Kurland assured me that my presence would mean a lot to you.”

  “It means the world to me,” Lucy said unsteadily.

  “Lord, sis, don’t blub. Major Kurland won’t thank me for that!” He offered her his arm. “I’m to escort you down the aisle seeing as our father is rather busy officiating a wedding.”

  “Thank you.” She placed her gloved fingers on his sleeve and took a deep breath. “What a perfectly lovely surprise.”

  Penelope and Anna made sure she was presentable, and then with a wink from Anthony she progressed up the aisle, her heart beating so hard the lace on her bodice quivered.

  Major Kurland stood at the altar dressed in the full uniform of the Prince of Wales 10th Hussars, his sword at his side, his plumed hat in the crook of his elbow. He didn’t turn as she approached, his back rigid as if he feared attack. For some reason that made everything better. She reached his side and offered her father a smile that he returned. He cleared his throat.

  “Dearly Beloved. By the Grace of God . . .”

  * * *

  Robert spoke his responses clearly, his gaze fixed on the rector. He hardly dared look at Miss Harrington—afraid that he’d wake up from a dream and find his betrothed had evaded him again.

  He fumbled putting the ring on her finger and had to peek at her then. Her gaze was steady, and he relaxed, offering her a quick smile and a squeeze of her hand.

  And then it was over, and they were walking down the aisle joined in holy matrimony for all time. Robert let out his breath and glanced down at his bride.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. You look very handsome.” She patted his arm. “And thank you for bringing Anthony.”

  “I thought you might appreciate his presence.” He stopped as the church door was flung open and a ragged cheer emerged from the spectators. “Good Lord, it’s much too cold for everyone to be out in this weather!”

  “It’s not often that their lord and master gets married either.” Andrew had caught up with them. “Take this.”

  He handed Robert a leather purse full of coin, which Robert attempted to disperse without injuring anyone. Despite the short distance back to Kurland Hall, his carriage, decked out in ribbons, awaited them, so he helped Miss Harrington—no, that was wrong.

  “Lady Kurland? Your carriage awaits.”

  She looked up at him and made a face. “I’m not sure I will remember to answer to that for quite some while.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll remember to call you it either. You’ll always be Lucy Harrington to me.” He took her hand as the carriage moved off. “I can’t quite believe we pulled it off, can you?”

  “No.” Her smile was beautiful. “But I’m excessively glad that we did.”

 

 

 
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