“If you insist.”
“I do, Miss Harrington. Has it occurred to you that the person who set fire to the house could still be here in Thaxted? If this tragedy is connected to the deaths in Kurland St. Mary, then our appearance here could cause further complications and even endanger our lives.”
“Then we should definitely return home. We can talk on the way.” Lucy smiled at the little girl. “Close the door now, and don’t let anyone else in, will you?”
She solemnly shook her head and shut the door.
Lucy walked back to the Swan in silence, aware that her clothes now held the stink of the water-drenched wood from the fire. When she reached home, she would have to wash the smell of the smoke out of her hair, as well. What if Major Kurland was right and someone from Kurland St. Mary had seen them in Thaxted? Were they now both in danger?
They found Reg and Alice at the inn, enjoying a bowl of soup and a mug of ale, and joined them. While Reg went off to get the horses harnessed to the gig and Alice visited the necessary again, Lucy finished her soup.
“I wish I’d brought the closed carriage,” Major Kurland muttered. “From the look of the sky, it’s going to be devilishly cold on the way back.”
“Your closed carriage was damaged the other night.”
“That’s correct.” Major Kurland lowered his voice. “Coleman thinks it was tampered with.”
Lucy choked on a crust of bread. “I beg your pardon?”
“It wasn’t an accident.” The major’s voice was grim. “Now, who in God’s name would do that? We could’ve all been killed.”
“Maybe it was an attempt to silence Mrs. Fairfax.”
“Which failed or frightened her badly enough to make her take her own life?”
“I can’t think of any other reason . . . unless . . .” She hesitated. “Mr. Reading was staying in Saffron Walden.”
“Who is Mr. Reading?”
“Miss Stanford’s betrothed. Apparently, she wrote and asked him to come down to Kurland St. Mary for the funeral. He came to pay his respects to Miss Chingford at the rectory, and things didn’t go very well. Miss Chingford claimed that he once offered marriage to her mother but changed his mind when he realized she wasn’t very wealthy.”
“He sounds like a cad.”
“I believe he is.” Lucy took a deep breath. “I don’t think he came to Kurland St. Mary to support Miss Stanford, but to make sure he hadn’t left any incriminating evidence in his correspondence with Mrs. Chingford.”
“You sound remarkably informed about a gentleman you met only for a few minutes in the rectory parlor.”
“He came back when everyone was out searching for Dorothea. I found him in Mrs. Chingford’s bedchamber, going through her letters.”
Silence followed her admission, and she kept her gaze on her bowl of soup for as long as she could manage it.
“And I assume you confronted him.” The major sounded far too calm for her liking.
“I didn’t really have a choice.”
“Of course you didn’t. No sensible woman would decide to run and get help.”
She winced. “Once he lowered his pistol, I didn’t feel as if he would—”
“He had his pistol aimed at you?”
“Only until he realized who I was, and then he was most apologetic and quite charming in his way.”
More silence. This time she risked a glance upward and encountered a furious blue gaze.
“You have no idea how much I yearn to pick you out of that seat, Miss Harrington, and shake you until your teeth rattle.” The major’s tone was almost conversational, but not reassuring at all.
“I know what you are thinking, Major,” Lucy said hastily. “But I wasn’t expecting him to be there and was caught somewhat by surprise. What I was trying to say was that maybe Mr. Reading had something to do with the carriage accident, because he was in Saffron Walden that day.” When he didn’t answer her, she carried on speaking. “Is it possible that Miss Stanford has more to do with this matter than we realized? Maybe she asked Mr. Reading to help her cover up her crime. Remember, she was defending the reputations of her brother and her betrothed. She could have pushed Mrs. Chingford down the stairs and made sure Mrs. Fairfax didn’t survive.”
Major Kurland slowly rose to his feet. “We need to get back. I’ll meet you in the stable yard.”
Lucy stared after him, her thoughts in confusion as he limped out of the room and disappeared, leaving her alone. She took a deep breath and realized she was shaking. His lack of reaction to her confession was surprising. She’d expected him to rip up at her and tell her she was stupid, not walk away as if she didn’t exist....
She retied the ribbons on her bonnet and started after him. He would be trapped in the gig with her for at least two hours even on the more direct route home. There was plenty of time for him to chastise her in a more private setting than the inn provided. Then she would be able to defend herself, he would see reason, and everything would be all right again.
At least she hoped it would.
Robert stared straight ahead as the gig moved swiftly down the country road toward Kurland St. Mary. It was dark now, but he could see the distant lights of the village and the manor house outlined against the purple-tinged sky. He loved his home, but even the sight of its unpretentious beauty couldn’t calm his temper tonight.
“Major Kurland . . .”
He set his jaw and realized it actually hurt from restraining himself from shouting at Miss Harrington.
“I know you are angry with me, but please consider the situation from my point of view.”
He wrapped his gloved hand around his cane and squeezed hard. Part of him still wanted to reach across the carriage, grab Miss Harrington by the shoulders, and shake her. Even though that picture gave him some satisfaction, he suspected that after he’d shaken her, he would have to gather her into his arms and hold her, beg her not to be so stupid, to not put herself in danger, to allow him . . .
“Major Kurland.”
He cleared his throat and shouted at Reg. “Let Miss Harrington out at the rectory, will you?”
“Yes, sir.”
The gig slowed and took the turn into the drive of the rectory, which circled around to the front of the house. Robert got out and walked around the carriage to help Miss Harrington descend.
When she reached the ground, her gloved hand tightened on his arm and she didn’t move away. “I’d much rather you shouted at me than ignored me. How are we going to continue our investigations if we are at odds?”
He finally met her gaze. “We are not going to investigate anything together ever again.”
Hurt and shock flashed across her hazel eyes. “Why not?”
“Because . . .” Because I cannot bear for you to be hurt or threatened. I cannot bear to see how brave you are, when I cringe in fear like a coward. “This investigation is over.”
“But it isn’t. We—”
“We are not going to do anything,” Robert said fiercely. “As far as the world is concerned, Mrs. Chingford fell down the stairs, and Mrs. Fairfax accidentally took too much laudanum after suffering a head injury.”
Miss Harrington raised her chin and stared him right in the eye. “You have no authority over me.” Her voice was shaking as hard as his hand was gripping her arm. “If you don’t choose to be involved, then that is up to you. I cannot—”
“You damn well can.” He caught her wrist. “If you think I will allow you to place yourself in danger, then you are sadly mistaken. I will tell your father what you are doing and will ask for his help in keeping you at home.”
“In my rightful place?” She shook free of his hand. “I never realized how much alike you and my father were until this moment. How dare you treat me like some kind of chattel!” She turned on her heel and walked away from him, then entered the rectory slamming the door behind her.
Robert winced at the sound and let out his breath. Better she thought him an arrogant male tha
n an overanxious one who cared too much for her well being. He turned back to the waiting gig and hauled himself up into his seat.
“Let’s go home, Reg.”
Reg turned and gave him a sympathetic look. “Yes, sir.”
At Kurland Hall all was quiet. Miss Stanford and Mrs. Green had retired early for the night, and Dr. Fletcher had called to see Dorothea and had left a message with Foley that her condition remained the same. Robert took himself into his study, sat behind the desk, and stared out over the gardens toward the village church. He still stank of smoke from the fire in Thaxted and wasn’t sure if he had the energy required to go upstairs and order a bath.
A light tap on the door made him raise his head and look up to see Thomas coming in with an unknown gentleman. Robert forced his tired body to rise, gripping the desk to stop himself from swaying with weariness.
“Major Kurland, I apologize for disturbing you so late in the evening.” Thomas bowed. “Mr. Tompkins has very little time to spare from his duties and wishes to travel back to London on the morrow.”
Thomas wore unrelieved black and had shadows under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept for days.
“Good evening, Mr. Tompkins.” Robert bowed. “I assume you are the solicitor who represents Mrs. Fairfax and her estate.”
“Indeed, Major Kurland, I am.” Mr. Tompkins bowed. “Mrs. Fairfax actually came to see me before she continued her journey to Kurland St. Mary. To say that I was surprised that she had died is something of an understatement.”
“It was a shock to us all, Mr. Tompkins.” Robert sat down, as did the other men. “My physician suspects that Mrs. Fairfax sustained a blow to the head after a carriage accident that caused her considerable pain and resulted in her taking too much laudanum.”
“So I understand.” Mr. Tompkins began taking documents out of his bag. “After receiving Mr. Fairfax’s letter, I collected together all the information I could find about the estate and Mrs. Fairfax’s new will.”
“She made a new will?”
“Yes. I had been urging her to do so since her husband’s demise. It is somewhat fortuitous that she heeded my request and set her affairs in order before her untimely death. It will make things so much easier for her heir.”
“Indeed.” Robert pressed two fingers to his brow, where his head had started to throb. “With Mr. Fairfax’s agreement, might I inquire as to the provisions of the new will?”
“Certainly, Major. I have it right here. The part that concerns Mr. Fairfax most directly is this.” He cleared his throat, unrolled the document, and began to read. “In the event of my death, I appoint Mr. Thomas Edward Fairfax as guardian to my son Robin Edward Fairfax and give him control of the Fairfax estate until Robin reaches his majority.” He looked over the top of his spectacles at Thomas and Robert. “In the previous will, guardianship was left to the partners at Tompkins, Bailey, and Dibbs.”
“Did she mention why she made this change?” Robert asked, as Thomas appeared incapable of speech. “I understood that relations between her and her husband’s son were never very cordial.”
“Perhaps she decided that a blood relative, no matter how . . . indirect, would be more involved in her son’s future and would manage the estate in a more sensitive manner. Not that we wouldn’t have done our utmost to provide young Robin with the best advice possible, but we aren’t his family.”
“I understand, Mr. Tompkins.” Robert held out his hand. “Do you have a copy of the will? I’m sure Mr. Fairfax will want to read it through at his leisure. He can then write to you with his concerns and questions.”
“I do have a copy, sir.” Mr. Tompkins placed the document on Robert’s desk. “I am more than willing to answer any questions that Mr. Fairfax might have in the future weeks, as he takes on his new responsibilities.”
“What time do you intend to leave in the morning?”
“Quite early, Major. I’ve never been one to lie abed when there is so much to be done.” Mr. Tompkins stood up. “Thank you for your hospitality. Your butler has allocated me a bedchamber, and I have dined very well.”
Robert stood, too, and shook the solicitor’s hand. “Thank you for coming out of your way to see Mr. Fairfax.”
“It was a pleasure, sir. I do hope Mr. Fairfax intends to keep the estate business with us.”
“Yes, of course.” Thomas jumped as if someone had poked him. “Thank you for everything, Mr. Tompkins.”
Robert rang the bell, and Foley appeared with such alacrity that Robert guessed he had been loitering outside the door.
“Ah, Foley, please take Mr. Tompkins up to his room and make sure he is woken in a timely manner in the morning.”
“Yes, Major Kurland.” Foley bowed. “If you would like to come this way, sir?”
Thomas remained standing, his gaze unfocused, as Robert resumed his seat. He swung around, his fists clenched at his sides. “I . . . can’t believe she did that. I thought—” He paused and then resumed speaking. “I was convinced she would bar me from the estate and from ever contacting my brother again.” He took an agitated turn around the room. “Why didn’t she tell me? She came here, and she said nothing, except that she wanted me back to run the estate as an employee.”
“Perhaps she didn’t think you needed to know about her will, because she wasn’t anticipating dying.”
“Oh, God, I suppose that’s true. She probably hoped it would never happen, but still.” He swallowed hard. “I feel so unworthy. She forced a wedge between me and my father and made me feel unwelcome in my own home, and yet she did this.” A tear slid down his cheek, and he hastily rubbed it away. “If only I’d known, I would’ve tried so much harder, treated her offer to return with more respect. . .”
“Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Thomas,” Robert said gently. “You did your best. And in the end, she realized that her son would be safe with you, and there is no finer compliment than that, is there?”
Thomas nodded and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Major Kurland.”
“Go to bed. If it is all right with you, I will read through the will before I retire. I need something stultifying to peruse before I can sleep.”
“Of course, sir. I will see you in the morning. There are a few other matters of business that I need to discuss with you before I—”
“Leave for Fairfax Park?” Robert inclined his head. “I understand that you must go, but I admit that I will miss your competence.”
“And I will miss everyone here,” Thomas replied. “Good night, sir.”
“Good night, Thomas.”
Robert stared unseeingly at the will. At this rate he would soon be alone again in his house, with just Foley to minister to his needs. Thomas was leaving for better things, and Miss Harrington . . . After his earlier dictatorial behavior she would probably never speak to him again. But he had to keep her safe. He had a sense that if they kept on poking their noses into such matters, sooner or later one of them would regret it. Miss Harrington had almost died once due to his inability to help her, and he was never going to allow that to happen again.
With a sigh, he put on this spectacles and concentrated his attention on the will.
“Are you all right, Miss Harrington? Lucy?”
Lucy looked up with a start to find Penelope watching her from the top of the stairs. She blinked rapidly to clear the sudden and unexpected descent of tears.
“I appear to have something in my eye,” Lucy said as she searched for her handkerchief, only to have Penelope offer her one. “Thank you.”
She walked across the landing to her bedchamber, and Penelope followed her in.
“How is Dorothea?” Lucy asked as she discreetly mopped her face. “Did you return to see her this afternoon?”
“She is still asleep, and I was told not to wake her. Dr. Fletcher seems to think she will make a complete recovery.” Penelope leaned against the door, her gaze fixed on Lucy. “Where did you and Major Kurland go?”
“The major ju
st brought me home.”
“That’s not an answer.” Penelope crossed her arms. “You appeared to be arguing.”
Lucy took off her bonnet and mud-splattered pelisse. “As you have mentioned more than once, we seem destined to argue all the time.”
“About what?”
“Everything.” Lucy summoned a smile. “I have to get changed before dinner. Would you mind sending Betty up to help me?”
“I’ve never seen you cry before.”
“I am not crying. We went past a burning building, and I got smoke in my eyes.”
“We?”
Lucy bent to unbutton her boots. “I do wish you would stop asking me all these ridiculous questions and go away.”
“If I don’t ask them, who will? It’s not as if either of us has a mother to look out for us, and your father is far too immersed in the running of his stables to notice much.”
“Unless it affects his comfort or is drawn to his attention,” Lucy muttered. How could Major Kurland threaten her like that? She’d thought they were friends....
There was a knock on the door, and Betty appeared with a jug of hot water. “There you are, miss.” She made a face as she picked up Lucy’s discarded pelisse. “I’ll take this away and sponge off the mud.” She pressed her nose to the cloth. “It smells of smoke.”
Lucy handed over her bonnet, as well. “Do you think I have time for a bath?”
“Cook won’t like me using the stove to boil water right before dinner, miss, but I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you, Betty.” Lucy glanced pointedly at Penelope, who had remained by the door. “I’m sure you don’t wish to stay and watch me bathe.”
Her companion shuddered. “No thank you.” She still lingered, though, one hand on the door frame. “May I say something?”
“It appears that you are intent on saying it, anyway, so why not go ahead?”
“Major Kurland . . .”
Lucy turned her back on Penelope and pretended to warm her hands at the fire. “What about him?”
“Don’t let him bully you.”
“I don’t intend to.” Lucy took a deep breath. “In truth, I don’t intend to have anything more to do with him ever again.”
Death Comes to Kurland Hall Page 14