Death Comes to Kurland Hall

by Catherine Lloyd

  “I doubt they have many friends in common. From what I know, Mrs. Fairfax comes from a modest, hardworking family who would not have moved in the same social circles as Mrs. Chingford.”

  “And yet they seem to be conversing quite animatedly,” Lucy observed. “Does Mrs. Fairfax wish you to return and manage her estates?”

  He sighed. “She has suggested it. I am not sure what I should do. She didn’t make me feel welcome when my father was alive. I’m not sure if I wish to be used and then discarded again when it suits her.”

  “Then stay here. Major Kurland would be delighted to keep you.”

  His rare smile flashed out, and he bowed. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Miss Harrington. I must admit that I am enjoying working with the major. His plans for the estate are all encompassing and excellently thought out.”

  “Major Kurland is a man of many talents,” Lucy said diplomatically. “Mrs. Fairfax has finished her conversation and is searching for you. I must go and offer Mrs. Chingford my felicitations.”

  Mr. Fairfax took her hand and kissed it. “You are a brave woman, Miss Harrington, but then I would have expected nothing less of you.”

  From the heat on her cheeks, Lucy assumed she must be blushing and hastily disengaged her hand. She smiled as Mrs. Fairfax came toward them.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am. Are you enjoying the wedding?”

  “It reminds me rather too much of my own, Miss Harrington.” A black lace handkerchief appeared and was applied to the beautiful widow’s tear-filled eyes. Lucy fought back a spurt of irritation. If the widow was so affected, why had she decided to insert herself into the wedding party at all? “I miss my husband very much.”

  Mr. Fairfax patted the widow’s gloved hand. “I’m sure you would like to retire to your room now, wouldn’t you? I shall escort you upstairs.” He bowed. “Your servant, Miss Harrington.”

  Lucy watched them leave, the widow leaning heavily on her previously despised husband’s bastard’s arm. Stiffening her spine, she turned back to Mrs. Chingford, only to see that Miss Stanford had got in before her and was having a somewhat heated discussion with her smiling companion.

  It seemed that even in her moment of triumph Mrs. Chingford couldn’t stop herself from getting into an argument. And yet listening to her talk, one would assume that she was the one who was being wounded or attacked by unfeeling people. Miss Stanford was beginning to raise her voice, and the people around her had started to notice. Lucy hurried over, determined that nothing else would disturb the happiness of Sophia and Mr. Stanford’s wedding.

  “Miss Stanford.” Lucy insinuated herself between the two women and caught Miss Stanford’s eye. “Your new sister was asking if you would accompany her upstairs to change.”

  For a second, Miss Stanford hesitated, and then she poked her finger in Mrs. Chingford’s face. “You are an abominable woman. One day you will go too far, and believe me, no one will rejoice at your demise more than me.”

  Mrs. Chingford gasped and placed a quivering hand on her bosom. “Such venom, Miss Stanford. How could you be so unkind?”

  “Because I dislike you intensely, and I hope never to see you again.” Miss Stanford turned on her heel and nodded at Lucy. “I would love to aid Sophia.”

  “She is in the great hall. Please tell her I will join you all very shortly.”

  “Indeed.”

  Miss Stanford stalked off, leaving Lucy with Mrs. Chingford, who sighed.

  “Some women cannot bear to hear a word said against their menfolk, can they?”

  “One might consider such loyalty admirable.”

  “Not if it is misplaced, Miss Harrington.” Mrs. Chingford leaned close. “There are several ladies here today who need to hear the truth, and to be reminded of their station in life. It is unfortunate that sometimes I have to be honest, but that is my way.”

  “Perhaps honesty should be tempered with mercy and tact, ma’am.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” Mrs. Chingford used her fan. “You, for instance. The entire village is aware that you are desperate to wed Major Kurland. Subtle hints don’t seem to work on you, so perhaps as your future stepmama, I should be blunt. He will never marry you. If he wasn’t happy with my daughter, he’ll never settle for someone of your social standing now that he’s a baronet.”

  All thoughts of offering her stilted congratulations to Mrs. Chingford fled Lucy’s mind. “You are quite mistaken, ma’am. Major Kurland has already asked me to marry him, and I declined.” She managed an airy smile. “As the niece of an earl, I’m not sure Major Kurland is good enough for me.”

  “It appears that you consider no one good enough for you.” Mrs. Chingford lowered her voice. “But I’ll give you fair warning, Miss Harrington. When I am mistress of the rectory, both you and that obnoxious cook will have to relinquish all notions of being in charge.”

  “I can’t wait.” Lucy curtsied. “In truth, I am very willing to leave the rectory, but I wish you joy in removing Mrs. Fielding. She considers my father her sole property. I must go and help Sophia change, Mrs. Chingford. Such a pleasure conversing with you.”

  She walked away, her gaze fixed on the hallway, and almost growled when someone stepped into her path.

  “Miss Harrington? Are you feeling quite well?” Major Kurland asked.

  Lucy took a deep, shuddering breath. “No, I am not ‘quite well,’ Major. I am contemplating murder.”

  He drew her to one side of the salon, his gaze questioning. “Whatever has happened to upset you?”

  “Mrs. Chingford . . .”

  “Ah, you are angry because she is to marry your father? But have you thought of the benefits to yourself? If she takes him in hand, and I believe she is a very managing woman, your time will be your own.”

  “And I’ll have to go and live with my uncle and aunt in London, because she is determined to push me out.”

  “Surely not, Miss Harrington.” He hesitated. “I know that she can sometimes seem a little insensitive, but—”

  “Insensitive? She uses words like weapons and doesn’t care how many people she hurts or maligns, because she believes in being honest.”

  “I cannot criticize her for choosing to be honest. It is something of a fault of mine, too.”

  “You are different. You don’t intentionally mean to hurt with your words.”

  His smile was rueful. “Sometimes I do, and sometimes I hear myself speak and then regret every syllable I’ve uttered. You have cause to know that all too well.”

  She held his gaze for far too long and then had to look away. “I must go to Sophia.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Yes. Andrew is awaiting her reappearance with great impatience.”

  Lucy picked up the skirts of her blue silk gown and went up the main staircase to the bedchamber where Sophie was changing out of her wedding dress and into something more suitable for travel. Fixing a smile firmly on her face, Lucy went over to Sophia and embraced her.

  “You look beautiful. Mr. Stanford is a lucky man.”

  Sophia kissed her. “No, I am the lucky one. And just think, if we hadn’t gone to London and become involved with the Broughtons, none of this would’ve happened.”

  “I suppose you did get to know Mr. Stanford rather well while I was investigating with the major.”

  “I did indeed, and I liked him immediately.” Sophia turned to the chair and dislodged her dog from her pelisse. “Hunter is going to stay here with Andrew’s children until we return. They already love him and have promised to take him for walks and to play with him.”

  “That is very kind of them. They also seem more than willing to accept you as their mother.”

  Sophia sighed. “I know. Isn’t it wonderful? I cannot wait until we are all under one roof and can begin our family life together.” She stepped back to stare into Lucy’s eyes. “And if Mrs. Chingford becomes unbearable, you know that my home is always open to you. I have already told Andrew this, an
d he quite agrees.”

  Lucy smiled at her best friend. It must be pleasant to have men falling over themselves to do one’s bidding. It was a trick that she had never mastered but that Sophia and Anna excelled at. Sophia put on her pelisse, and Lucy handed her the new bonnet that went with it.

  “Thank you.” Sophia looked around. “Now, where did I put my wedding posy? I wanted to deliver it right into your hands.”

  “You cannot do that, Sophia. Think of all the disappointment! Perhaps you should aim it squarely at Mrs. Chingford’s head.”

  Sophia shuddered. “That horrible woman. She upset Melissa Stanford again today. She was quite incandescent with rage. Not content with suggesting that Andrew was somehow responsible for his wife’s death, she insinuated that Melissa’s betrothed was a well-known cheat at cards. Surely your father will see the error of his ways and will not go through with such a ridiculous marriage.”

  “I can only hope so, but he is remarkably stubborn when he makes his mind up about something,” Lucy said gloomily and then re-collected herself. She would not spoil Sophia’s wedding day. “Have you seen Miss Chingford or her sister? I don’t think they are any happier at the news than I am.”

  “I haven’t seen them since we finished our meal. I do hope they are all right. Dorothea seemed very upset about the news. One would’ve thought that their mother would have mentioned the matter to them before the announcement.”

  “Maybe Mrs. Chingford wasn’t aware that my father intended to propose so publicly.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Foley, the major’s butler, came in and bowed.

  “Mrs. Stanford? Mr. Stanford was asking after you, ma’am.” Foley lowered his voice. “In fact, he’s fretting himself to the bone and pacing the hall below just like a lovesick bridegroom ought to be doing.”

  Sophia laughed and tied the ribbons on her bonnet. “Then we should certainly go down and put him out of his misery.”

  Lucy followed her out onto the landing, and a cheer went up from the assembled wedding party below. When Mr. Stanford caught sight of his bride, his whole face lit up and he held out his hand and bowed.

  Sophia went gracefully down the stairs to a roar of approval. She paused on the bottom step to throw her bouquet, and there was delighted applause when Anna caught it. From her vantage point at the top of the stairs, Lucy noticed that Nicholas Jenkins was right behind Anna and that he was smiling down at her. It seemed he still hadn’t given up his hopes of marrying her sister, despite Anna’s popularity in London.

  Lucy also noticed Miss Chingford and Dorothea in an intense conversation with their mother that did not look very cordial. But Mrs. Chingford was amicable only to men and those who she thought could aid her. Everyone else, even poor widowed Mrs. Fairfax, was fair game.

  Major Kurland was smiling at his friend and then looked up, caught her eye, and winked. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him being so relaxed and charming before. She almost preferred it when he scowled. Andrew’s children, a boy and a girl, stood close to the major. The boy now held Hunter’s leash in a firm grip as the dog whined and panted after its mistress.

  Within moments, the happy couple had gone in a flurry of good-byes and flower petals, leaving the wedding party to partake of the supper Foley and his staff were laying out in the dining room. There was musical entertainment, and some thoughts that the younger members of the wedding party might want to dance had dictated the removal of the carpet in the long gallery.

  As she came down the stairs, Lucy mentally checked off exactly what still needed to be done and realized there was nothing. If he thought to turn his hand to it, Mr. Fairfax would make the major an excellent secretary, as well as a land agent. She wasn’t really needed here at the manor anymore, what with Major Kurland’s resurgence and Mr. Fairfax’s efficiency.

  It would have to be London, then. If her father did marry Mrs. Chingford, she would have to move out of the rectory. Her hand lingered on the smoothness of the wooden stair rail. If she’d ignored her feelings and accepted Major Kurland’s marriage proposal for what it was, she would now be mistress of Kurland Hall.... She almost regretted her decision at this moment, when all around her seemed to be heading for matrimony without having to think about it at all.

  Mayhap she was too fussy, just as Mrs. Chingford had suggested.

  The sound of instruments tuning up in the gallery caught her attention, and she turned toward the throng of wedding guests making their way through the hall. A flash of yellow in the gallery above her made her look up to see Dorothea Chingford peering down at the assembled guests. As if she realized Lucy had seen her, she ran off again toward the bedchambers.

  Lucy cast one more glance down at the dancing and then went after Dorothea. Even though the bride and groom had departed, she didn’t want any more scenes to disrupt the celebration. Following the sound of footsteps and banging doors, Lucy found herself in the oldest part of the house, which was a warren of smaller rooms, too many staircases, and ancient oak beams reportedly reused from the demolition of King Henry VIII’s navy, which would certainly account for their bowed shapes. It was hard to see in the narrow passageways, and Lucy almost lost her way and banged her head on a low beam at least twice.

  Suddenly there was a screech and a series of loud thumps. Lucy picked up her skirts and ran toward the sound. By the time she arrived, there was no sign of anyone. She hesitated by the servants’ staircase and then looked down to see a crumpled heap of . . . something at the bottom. Had Dorothea fallen in her haste to get away from Lucy? Holding her breath, Lucy crept down the stairs and knelt beside the recumbent form.

  Halting footsteps sounded behind her, and she went still.

  “Miss Harrington? Whatever are you doing?”

  She lifted her head to see Major Kurland coming toward her.

  “Thank goodness it’s you, Major. There’s been a terrible accident. I think Mrs. Chingford is dead!”

  Chapter 4

  Robert took his time kneeling beside Miss Harrington and attempted a nonjudgmental tone.

  “Did you mean to kill her?”

  “Good Lord, Major Kurland, I didn’t kill her. I just found her like this. I think she fell down the stairs,” Miss Harrington said impatiently as she touched Mrs. Chingford’s throat. “She doesn’t appear to be breathing.”

  “I just wondered if perhaps you had been in an argument and had accidentally pushed her. You know how these things happen in moments of passion.”

  She fixed him with her hardest stare. “Major Kurland, I did not kill her. Why on earth would I do that?”

  “Because she was about to become your stepmother?”

  “I would hardly resort to murder.” She snorted. “And there are plenty of other people at this wedding who would be delighted to see the end of this woman. In fact, I—” She paused. “I was attempting to catch up with Dorothea Chingford. That’s why I ended up at the top of this staircase.”

  “And I saw someone disappearing into the servants’ hallways and came to direct them back to the wedding party.”

  “Was it a man or a woman?”

  Robert frowned. “I believe it was a woman, but it might have been a man wearing a cloak.” He studied the still figure. In repose, Mrs. Chingford looked remarkably like her daughter Penelope. “Are you quite sure she is dead?”

  “As certain as I can be. Is our new doctor attending the wedding?”

  “Yes, he is, and as he’s an old army colleague of mine, I can count on his discretion. Shall I go and find him?” Robert tried to stand and had to use the stairs for support. “Will you stay with her?”

  “Of course I will. There is one thing. . . .”

  “What?”

  She indicated the position of the body. “If she did trip and fall, she managed to crawl a few feet away from the stairs before she actually died.”

  Robert grabbed his cane. “It’s not unusual for a body to keep moving after death. It seems to take a moment for the conscious self
to realize it is no more. I’ve seen soldiers continue a charge with half their heads blown off and . . .” He recollected himself and bowed. “I’ll go and fetch Dr. Fletcher.”

  While the major went to find the doctor, Lucy sat on the dusty wooden floorboards beside Mrs. Chingford. It was strange to see her so still and silent. She had always been in motion, like a rather annoying wasp. Lucy glanced up the steep stairwell, but all was quiet. Beams of light from the diamond-paned windows above sent bars of brightness down the wooden stairs. It would be all too easy to catch one’s foot in the hem of one’s gown and fall. Perhaps it had truly been an accident and Mrs. Chingford had turned to speak to her younger daughter and had missed her footing.

  The sound of approaching male voices had Lucy looking back toward the main hall. Major Kurland was talking quietly to the man behind him, who nodded as he walked. He’d also brought more light.

  “Ah, Miss Harrington. Not the most pleasant of places to find you, but be that as it may.”

  “Dr. Fletcher.” Lucy waited until he set the lantern on the stairs and crouched beside the body. “I think Mrs. Chingford fell down the stairs.”

  “I should imagine she did.” His gentle fingers moved over Mrs. Chingford’s still form, then lingered at her throat.

  “Did she break her neck?” Major Kurland asked.

  Dr. Fletcher frowned and leaned closer. “Her neck is definitely broken.”

  Lucy peered through the uncertain light. “It also seems to be bruised.”

  “Yes. That could happen because of the way she fell. I won’t be able to tell exactly what is broken until I get a closer look at her.” The doctor gazed up at Major Kurland. “Do you think the family would object if we had her transported to my house? There isn’t a morgue nearby, and my practice is the quietest place in the village, seeing as no one trusts me to administer to their ills yet.”

  Major Kurland nodded. “That’s an excellent idea. Could you organize the removal of the body without the rest of my guests knowing what is going on?”

  “Certainly, if you get Foley to help me.”