Death Comes to Kurland Hall

by Catherine Lloyd

  There was a knock at the door, and Betty came in.

  “Miss Harrington, Mr. Fairfax is in the parlor. He has a message for you from Major Kurland.”

  “Then I will be down directly.” She glanced over at Penelope, who was staring into space. “Do you want me to fetch Anna to help you when she returns? I believe she went driving with Mr. Jenkins.”

  “She likes him, doesn’t she?”

  “I’m not sure. They’ve known each other for years. Nicholas has always had a tendre for her.”

  “Then he probably wouldn’t be interested in me.”

  Lucy stopped walking. “I’m sure you wouldn’t think of throwing yourself at a man who is obviously in love with someone else.” She hoped Penelope heeded the warning in her voice. “Anna might seem disinterested in Nicholas, and they do have a tendency to squabble, but—”

  “That seems to be a family characteristic.” Penelope picked up her pen again. “You and Major Kurland quarrel like an old married couple.”

  “We do not.”

  Penelope gave her a skeptical look, and Lucy chose not to speak and left the room. She reached the parlor, where Mr. Fairfax was speaking to her father. He bowed as she approached.

  “Good morning, Miss Harrington. I trust you are well? Major Kurland was hoping to obtain your advice on a particular matter and asked if you might accompany me back to the manor.”

  Her father patted her shoulder. “You run along with Mr. Fairfax and help Major Kurland, my dear. We’ll somehow manage without you.” He turned back to Mr. Fairfax. “And please tell the major that all the details for the service are well in hand, and we can proceed as necessary.”

  “I’ll do that, Mr. Harrington.”

  Lucy went to find her bonnet and pelisse and joined Mr. Fairfax at the front door. Just as they were about to leave, Dorothea Chingford came down the stairs. Her fair hair was hanging down her back, and her black gown was wrongly fastened at the neck. The vacant expression on her face had Lucy starting toward her.

  “Dorothea?”

  Mr. Fairfax bowed. “Miss Dorothea.”

  She stumbled down the last step and came to a stop in front of him.

  “Is she still at Kurland Hall?”

  “I’m not sure who you are referring to—”

  “Mrs. Fairfax.”

  Mr. Fairfax shot a bewildered look at Lucy over the top of Dorothea’s head. “Yes, she is still in residence. Do you wish to speak to her?”

  Dorothea shrank back. “No. She probably wouldn’t wish to see me again.”

  “I know she was disappointed when you weren’t present when we visited. She wanted to offer you her condolences in person, Miss Dorothea.” He paused. “Are you feeling quite well? You are very pale.”

  Dorothea turned to Lucy. “Mrs. Fairfax came here? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Lucy moved between Dorothea and Mr. Fairfax. “I believe you were asleep at the time. Your sister did speak to Mrs. Fairfax on your family’s behalf.”

  “Yes. That’s correct,” Mr. Fairfax agreed.

  “Mrs. Fairfax should leave Kurland St. Mary.”

  There was a rising note of hysteria in Dorothea’s voice, which made Lucy cup her elbow. “Please don’t distress yourself. I’m sure Mrs. Fairfax will be returning home right after your mother’s funeral.”

  Dorothea wrenched her arm free. “She should leave now!” Turning, she ran back up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door.

  Lucy winced. “I do beg your pardon, Mr. Fairfax. Dorothea has been behaving rather strangely since her mother’s death.”

  “It is of no matter. She is very young and is obviously distraught by what has happened.”

  “That is very forgiving of you, sir.”

  He offered her his arm, and they set off down the drive together. It was a dreary gray day, but at least there was no rain, which was a blessing.

  “How is Miss Penelope Chingford this morning?” Mr. Fairfax asked.

  “She is busy sorting through her mother’s possessions and deciding who to invite to the funeral. Mrs. Chingford had a wide circle of acquaintances.” Lucy gave him a sideways glance. “In fact, Mr. Fairfax, we wondered if Mrs. Fairfax could tell us the name of their mutual friend so that we could inform her of the funeral.”

  “Mutual friend?” Mr. Fairfax continued to walk, his expression puzzled. “I wasn’t aware that my father’s wife and Mrs. Chingford knew each other well enough to have a mutual acquaintance.”

  “There was some suggestion of them sharing a nursemaid.”

  “I suppose it’s possible, but I can’t say Mrs. Fairfax mentioned anything specifically to me.”

  They turned out of the rectory drive and headed for the gate leading to Kurland Hall.

  “One thing I did notice . . .” He stopped speaking and turned to Lucy. “It probably isn’t worth mentioning now that the poor lady has died, but if you remember after the wedding, when I escorted Mrs. Fairfax upstairs . . .”

  “Yes?” Lucy said encouragingly.

  “Well, Mrs. Fairfax was extremely angry about something Mrs. Chingford had said to her.” He sighed. “I don’t know exactly what it was, but I’ve never seen her in such a rage.”

  “I find it hard to imagine Mrs. Fairfax becoming agitated, but Mrs. Chingford did seem to have that effect on the mildest mannered of people.”

  “Yes. She attempted to sympathize with me about my bastard state,” Mr. Fairfax said dryly. “And how difficult it must be for me to be a social pariah.”

  “Oh dear,” Lucy murmured. “I dread to think what she said to Major Kurland.”

  “I was close enough to hear the end of that exchange. She commiserated with him for being a reclusive cripple whom no woman in her right mind would ever choose to marry.”

  “Did he give her a terrible set down?”

  “No. He smiled and changed the subject.”

  Lucy shook her head as they approached one of the side doors to the hall.

  “Do you know why Major Kurland doesn’t ride, Miss Harrington?”

  Lucy paused to look up into Mr. Fairfax’s face. “You should probably ask him that question.”

  “You are right. I should. I did wonder if his injuries meant that he could never ride again.” He hesitated. “It’s just that I’ve noticed he doesn’t like to go anywhere near a horse if he can help it.”

  “Riding would certainly still be very difficult for him, Mr. Fairfax,” Lucy said carefully. “His whole left leg was crushed under the weight of his horse at Waterloo, and he was very lucky to keep the limb. It is perhaps understandable that he is reluctant to even attempt to ride again.”

  “So I should imagine.” Mr. Fairfax bowed. “He is a brave man and more than deserved his elevation into the peerage.”

  “He blames me for that.”

  Mr. Fairfax grinned. “So he told me. It is a shame that you cannot take on the duties of secretary for the major, Miss Harrington. I believe we would make a formidable team.”

  She smiled back at him. “Then you have decided to stay here and not follow Mrs. Fairfax back to your old home?”

  He glanced around the deserted corridor and lowered his voice. “I am not convinced Mrs. Fairfax has recovered sufficiently from her grief to make good decisions about the estate. I suspect if I returned, she would constantly undermine my authority or use me as a scapegoat if things went wrong.”

  “Then you should definitely stay here,” Lucy said firmly. “Major Kurland may be many things, but he would never lie to you or be underhand.”

  “I appreciate that, Miss Harrington.” He cleared his throat. “After years of dealing with Mrs. Fairfax’s suspicious nature and being denied the opportunity to get to know my young half brother, I—” He stopped speaking. “I do beg your pardon. There is something about you, Miss Harrington, that makes it all too easy for a man to confide in you.”

  Lucy tried not to blush. “Mrs. Fairfax does seem to be driven by her emotions.”

  “You have n
o idea, Miss Harrington. She convinced my father that I was out to steal the estate from my half brother, and nothing I could say to him made any difference.” He sighed. “We were estranged at his death, and I could see there was no future for me at my only home.”

  “Then one wonders why Mrs. Fairfax came after you.”

  Mr. Fairfax started walking again. “I have wondered about that myself. It is almost as if she has no memory of how badly she treated me before.”

  “Some people find it impossible to accept that they are in the wrong, and they pretend that nothing happened. A man in our village ran off to London with his wife’s best friend. After a week or so, the woman decided she had made a mistake, abandoned her lover, and returned to the village. She even had the nerve to try to take up her old friendship with his abandoned wife.” Lucy shook her head. “It didn’t take her long to realize that people here have very long memories and her chances of being forgotten or forgiven were relatively small.”

  Mr. Fairfax chuckled appreciatively. “Ah, the perils and joys of village life.” He paused at the door to the dining room. “I believe Major Kurland is in here.”

  Robert looked up from his seat at the head of the breakfast table to see Thomas and Miss Harrington framed in the doorway. Judging from Miss Harrington’s approving smile, they appeared to be having a mutually agreeable conversation. It belatedly occurred to him that they would suit each other very well.

  He stood and bowed. “Good morning, Miss Harrington.”

  “Major Kurland.” She curtsied. “Are you still at breakfast? I can wait in your study, if you prefer it.”

  “Please come and join us.” He pulled out the chair to his left. “I’m sure all my guests would appreciate any new information on the welfare of Miss Chingford and her sister.”

  Miss Stanford almost choked on her toast, and Mrs. Green helpfully patted her on the back. “Yes, how are the two young ladies doing?”

  Miss Harrington took the seat Robert offered her, and Thomas sat at the foot of the table, across from Mrs. Fairfax, who was nibbling halfheartedly at a piece of toast.

  “Miss Chingford is coping remarkably well. Dorothea is still very upset.”

  Mrs. Green nodded. “She seemed to be at odds with her mother before she died. It is always a shock when one realizes it is too late to make amends or apologize.”

  Robert knew that all too well. He’d lost many friends in battle, men he’d joked with and shared billets with, dead by the end of the same day, never to return. It hadn’t made him walk around, telling everyone he loved them, but he’d felt their loss all the same.

  Miss Harrington accepted a cup of coffee and leaned toward him. “Was there something in particular you wanted to speak to me about, Major?”

  “Yes. I decided it would be a good idea if you were present when Foley mentioned the locket to my guests. You are far better at reading faces than I will ever be.”

  “I developed that ability when dealing with my younger siblings.” Miss Harrington sipped her coffee. “Dorothea Chingford accosted poor Mr. Fairfax at the rectory and insisted that Mrs. Fairfax should leave Kurland St. Mary immediately.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “I think she knows more about this matter than she has admitted so far. I intend to question her closely when I return home.”

  “Perhaps Mrs. Fairfax saw Dorothea push her mother down the stairs.”

  “It’s possible.” Miss Harrington sighed. “I suppose the locket could be Dorothea’s. Mayhap she has a secret lover who gave it to her as a gift. Although, according to her mother, she was in love with Mr. Stanford.”

  “What is it about Andrew that attracts such feminine adoration?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “It’s quite simple. He is a pleasant, well-mannered, and charming gentleman.”

  “Unlike me, you mean.”

  “You have the ability to be all those things, Major, but you don’t often choose to do so.”

  Robert snorted. “When I attempt those things, Miss Harrington, you look at me as if I have magically become a toad.”

  Her color heightened. “Perhaps I have become too used to your . . . uncivil behavior.”

  “And it is far easier to dislike me and keep me at bay if you continue to provoke me into behaving that way.”

  “I do not dislike you. I—” She met his gaze. “This is an extremely improper conversation to be having at the breakfast table.”

  “Then perhaps we should pursue it when we are more at liberty to discuss such issues privately.” Robert glanced at the door, where Foley had appeared. “I think we are about to be interrupted, anyway.”

  Foley came over to stand beside Robert’s chair and, after a nod from his employer, loudly cleared his throat. “Good morning to you all.” He bowed very slowly and held up the locket Robert had given to him. “One of the maids found this in the laundry. Do any of you recognize it?”

  No one said anything, and after a long pause, Robert took the locket from Foley. “If any of you realize it is your property, please come and find me, and I will return it to you immediately.” He put the locket in his waistcoat pocket. “Now, shall we discuss our plan to visit Saffron Walden this afternoon? I understand the weather is expected to stay sunny.”

  He turned back to Miss Harrington, who appeared rather troubled. “Will you extend the invitation to the Chingford ladies and your sister?”

  “I will do that, Major. Will you make sure Mrs. Fairfax comes?”

  “I’ll do my best. Do you wish to speak to her? Maybe I should attempt that. She seems rather afraid of you.”

  “And she will wrap you around her little finger.”

  “One can’t help but feel sorry for her being widowed so young and left with all those responsibilities.”

  Miss Harrington gave a rather inelegant snort. “Thomas says she refused his help with the estate and made him leave.”

  “Thomas said? You are on very familiar terms with my land agent, Miss Harrington.”

  “You call him Thomas.”

  “Because I am his employer.” Robert rose from his chair and pushed away from the table. “Speaking of Thomas, I need to consult with him about my dairy herd.”

  “Please don’t let me stop you.”

  He paused to glare at her. “If you’re quite certain you don’t have need of his services first.” She tightened her lips in a way that made him want to shake her. “No? Then I’ll be on my way. I do hope to see you this afternoon for our excursion, but if you are too busy, I will take it upon myself to speak to Mrs. Fairfax.”

  “I’ll be there, Major Kurland.”

  He bowed. “I look forward to it.”

  Infuriating. The harder he tried to be nice to her, the more she goaded him into returning to his irascible self. It was remarkably frustrating. She behaved completely differently with his land agent. Thomas stood as Robert reached the end of the table.

  “Do you wish to discuss the dairy herd now, sir?”

  “Indeed I do.” Robert gestured for Thomas to precede him out of the door. He’d had quite enough of trying to understand Miss Harrington for one morning. At least with his herd of cows, he was on steady and knowledgeable ground.

  Lucy stomped back down the drive of Kurland Hall, muttering to herself about the inconsistencies of men, and of Major Kurland in particular. He’d implied that she was making him behave in an ungentlemanly like manner, which was ridiculous! She had nursed him back to health, suffered through his temper and biting wit, and knew him better than anyone. By attempting to be pleasant, he only confused her.

  And why was he even attempting it? What did he hope to gain?

  If she could just find out whether anything untoward had happened to Mrs. Chingford, she would no longer need to be in Major Kurland’s company so much. That would probably be for the best.

  She reached the rectory and went in through the kitchen, where Mrs. Fielding was actually singing as she went about her work. She even managed to smile at L
ucy, which was unheard of. Lucy sighed and trudged up the back stairs. It would’ve been far easier if the cook had simply bashed Mrs. Chingford over the head with one of her cast-iron pans. If someone had wanted Mrs. Chingford dead, they had found a very clever way of achieving it. Even the locket in Mrs. Chingford’s fingers could be explained away if the person who pushed her down the stairs had come forward to confess.

  Lucy paused on the top step. But no one had come forward, so the opportunity to confess to pushing Mrs. Chingford accidentally had not been taken. Either she’d fallen herself, which was unlikely because of the locket, or someone had deliberately pushed her and didn’t want anyone else to know about it.

  Betty came clomping up the stairs, and Lucy beckoned to her.

  “Yes, miss?”

  “Will you please ask Miss Chingford if she wishes to accompany me and some of Major Kurland’s guests on an excursion to Saffron Walden?”

  “I’ll go and ask her right now, miss.”

  “Betty, wait one second.” Lucy lowered her voice. “Has Mrs. Fielding intimated that she is planning on leaving the rectory?”

  “Not that I know of, Miss Harrington, although she was thinking about accepting that offer from the butcher when Mrs. Chingford—may her soul rest in peace—was alive and was threatening to marry the rector.”

  “What offer from the butcher?”

  Betty giggled. “Marriage, of course. Why do you think we’ve been getting such lovely pieces of meat?”

  Lucy could only nod and wait as Betty knocked softly on Penelope’s door. The meat had been remarkably good recently.. . . Was it possible that Mrs. Chingford had found out that Mrs. Fielding was carrying on with the butcher, and had threatened to reveal all to her potential bridegroom? It sounded all too likely. Would Mrs. Fielding have fought to retain her place at the rectory and in the rector’s bed?

  When she next went up to Kurland Hall, she would question the kitchen staff about the whereabouts of Mrs. Fielding during her time in the kitchens on the wedding day. Once the main meal had been served, there would have been an opportunity for the cook to slip away and maybe confront Mrs. Chingford.