“Quite well, my lady.” Josephine lowered her voice. “I did have some bad dreams about . . . her . . . you know.”
Having seen her own share of dead bodies, Lucy could only sympathize. She sat down beside the girl on the satin-covered couch, aware of Mrs. Greenwell’s curious gaze but determined to ignore it.
“Can you tell me what happened yesterday?” Lucy asked gently. “I know you have already spoken to Sir Robert, but sometimes one remembers things after the event that are easily forgotten during the emergency itself.”
“I am more than happy to tell you everything I can, my lady,” Josephine said. “Has Sir Robert found out who did it yet?”
“Not quite yet.” Lucy hastened to reassure her. “But I can assure you that he will do everything in his power to apprehend the person who killed Miss Broomfield.” She paused. “Are you concerned about your own safety? You did say you saw a man loitering around the back of the school when you reentered the building.”
“Yes, but what if he saw me?” Josephine gave a convulsive shiver. “What if he thinks I know him?”
“Did you see him that well?” Lucy asked doubtfully. “If his features were indistinct to you, then it is doubtful that he saw you any more clearly.”
“I suppose that is true.” Josephine didn’t look convinced. “All I can remember is that he was tall and wore a cap and carried something that looked like a cudgel in his hand.”
“A cudgel? Perhaps he intended to break into the school and discovered the doors were unlocked and he could just walk in.” Lucy patted Josephine’s knee. “Are you quite certain there was no one else in the schoolhouse when you entered the cloakroom?”
Josephine’s gaze became distant, as if she was reliving the scene. “It was eerily quiet. That’s what made me nervous. It is usually such a noisy place, what with the children playing and Miss Broomfield shouting. . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t think there was anyone else there, but I suppose there could’ve been someone hiding in the kitchen.”
“When you approached Miss Broomfield’s desk, did you notice if that rear door was open or closed?”
Josephine frowned. “I think it was ajar, but I cannot be certain. It felt like there was a draught blowing through the whole building. I knew Miss Broomfield wouldn’t like that. She was always on at us to shut the doors and keep the heat in.”
Knowing how expensive it was to heat the schoolhouse, Lucy couldn’t help but commend Miss Broomfield’s diligence, in that matter at least.
“How was Miss Broomfield’s disposition earlier that day?”
“She seemed rather distracted.” Josephine bit her lip. “I don’t want to get into trouble for saying the wrong thing and speaking ill of the dead, but she was very hard to please. Rebecca and I spent most of our day protecting the little ones from her.”
“She was shouting at them?”
“Shouting and laying about with her cane.” Josephine rolled up her sleeve to reveal a livid red welt. “I caught this one when I tried to stop her beating little Tommy Higgins.”
Lucy stared at the scar, her emotions in turmoil. With every damming word Josephine spoke, her vague sympathy for the deceased rapidly diminished.
“So she was obviously upset about something.” Lucy paused to frame her next question. “Did she behave any differently after the children had gone home?”
Josephine went still. “Now that I think about it, she insisted that Rebecca and I finish our work and leave as quickly as possible. That’s one of the reasons why I was scared to go back for my scarf.”
Lucy considered the girl. “Were you not afraid of missing your ride home if you returned to the school?”
“No, because Miss Broomfield insisted that we leave earlier than usual. I knew that if I hurried, I would be able to go back, find my scarf, and still meet Mr. Mathias in the village.” Josephine let out her breath. “I wish I hadn’t gone back.”
“I’m sure you do.” Lucy smiled sympathetically. Josephine didn’t look anything like the Greenwell family, and Lucy wondered anew at the connection between them. “I was hoping that you might be willing to continue your work at the school over the next few days, but I quite understand if the thought of returning is unpleasant for you.”
Josephine gave a quick glance over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “I should like to continue at the school, but I’m not sure if Mrs. Greenwell will allow me to do so.”
“Don’t worry about that, my dear.” Lucy was fairly certain she could encourage Mrs. Greenwell to comply with her more than reasonable request. “I will ask her for permission.”
At that, Lucy rose to her feet and went back to the group clustered around the fireplace. Josephine curtsied and disappeared back through the door, possibly to avoid having to speak to Mrs. Greenwell.
“Thank you so much for letting me see Josephine, ma’am.” Lucy took the seat next to Rose. “I do hope you will allow her to help me set matters straight in the school before Christmas is upon us.”
“I’m sure she would be delighted to help,” Mrs. Greenwell said. “She has some notion of becoming a governess herself in two years, when she is eighteen.”
“A worthy occupation and one to which I think she will be well suited,” Lucy agreed. “It is a pity that she is a little too young to take over our village school.”
Mrs. Greenwell chuckled. “I doubt she will ever have the authority to manage a whole class, Lady Kurland. She is far too self-effacing. Her mother was the same.”
“You knew her mother?”
“Indeed. The woman’s husband was distantly related to Mr. Greenwell, and when she fell on hard times, he felt an obligation to offer her and her daughter a home.”
From Mrs. Greenwell’s acid tone, Lucy deduced that she hadn’t felt quite as welcoming or charitable toward the family as her spouse had.
“It was very good of you to take them in,” Lucy said, hastening to agree with her hostess. “I’m sure that Josephine is grateful for your kindness.”
“She certainly does not give herself airs or consider herself part of the family,” Mrs. Greenwell said. “She knows her place.”
“Indeed,” Lucy murmured. “I’ll send someone to collect her tomorrow morning at ten, if that will be convenient?”
“She is quite capable of walking two miles, my lady, but if you insist on cossetting her, I’ll make certain she is ready.”
* * *
Robert glanced over to see that Lucy had resumed her place with the ladies and that Josephine had left the drawing room. He could only guess why his wife had decided it was necessary to speak to the girl alone, but he already had his suspicions.
Mr. Greenwell cleared his throat. “Sad business about that teacher, eh, Sir Robert? And for the gal to find the body . . .” He shook his head. “She was quite shaken by the discovery, I can tell you that.”
“I’m not surprised. Death is never pleasant.”
“You were in the cavalry during the recent conflicts, were you not?” Mr. Greenwell asked.
“Yes. I reached the rank of major in the Prince Regent’s own Tenth Hussars.”
“And I understand you were ennobled by the prince himself.”
Robert tried to hide a wince. “Hardly ennobled, but I am now a baronet through His Highness’s good graces.”
“And well deserved, too, if the stories I have heard are correct.” Mr. Greenwell finished his brandy and set the glass down on the sideboard. “Will you shut the school down permanently now that you have no teacher, or will you advertise for a new one?”
“As the school is something of a special project of mine and Lady Kurland’s, I doubt we intend to close it. I have a very strong belief that education for the masses can lead only to the betterment of all.”
“A radical notion that many of your class would disagree with, I suspect.” Mr. Greenwell’s brown eyes twinkled. “I myself having traveled much around this world, and I consider an educated nation a formidable one.”
“Then perhaps you might be interested in joining our school board?” Robert asked. “As you might imagine, finding sponsors for such an enterprise in a rural environment isn’t always easy.”
“I would be delighted to do so.” Mr. Greenwell bowed. “Perhaps you and Lady Kurland would accept my invitation to join us for dinner this coming Friday so that we could discuss the matter further?”
“That would be most agreeable.” Robert paused. “However, I must warn you that my wife is an equal partner in this venture and has some very decided opinions of her own.”
“I’ve heard that Lady Kurland is a force to be reckoned with from many admirers, Sir Robert. I would be happy to hear her speak on matters that are also close to my heart.”
“Excellent.” Robert took another glance toward his wife and saw she was rising from her seat and looking pointedly in his direction. “I will confirm the dinner invitation with Lady Kurland and let you know if we are available.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Greenwell bowed. “It has been a pleasure speaking with you, Sir Robert.”
“Likewise.” Robert bowed in return.
His only wish was that his host had sat down, allowing Robert to do the same. Standing in one spot for almost half an hour was never good for his damaged leg. He had to lean heavily on his cane as he made his way across to Lucy, all too aware that the Greenwell ladies were staring at him with varying degrees of disgust and sympathy.
“Are you ready, my dear?” he asked Lucy, who responded with a bright smile and a characteristically firm nod of her head. “Then perhaps we should be on our way.”
He waited a moment longer for Rose to say her good-byes, and then they walked out to the front of the house, where the carriage awaited them. It took Robert two attempts to lever himself up, which didn’t help his temper at all. For some reason, it felt as if his injuries were getting worse rather than better. He really should speak to Patrick about his concerns, but he lacked the courage. The thought of having to endure any more probing or well-meaning advice was intolerable.
He realized Lucy was asking him a question about the visit and returned his attention to the present.
“Yes, I certainly approved of Mr. Greenwell. He is an intelligent man with sound principles and a steady wit. I have asked him to consider joining our school board.”
“Well, we will certainly need some assistance to find yet another teacher.” Lucy sighed.
“I agree. But neither of us could have anticipated that Miss Broomfield would be murdered.” Robert grabbed hold of the strap as the carriage lurched down the drive of Greenwell Manor. “Did you speak to Josephine?”
“I did. She was still quite upset by what had transpired.”
“Understandably.”
“Not that Mrs. Greenwell cared one jot,” Lucy added.
“She is completely disinterested in Josephine. She even suggested that the poor girl was incapable of having deep feelings and didn’t deserve any special treatment.”
“I gather you are not impressed by the Greenwell ladies, which is a pity, because I accepted an invitation for both of us to dine there on Friday to discuss the school board.”
“I suppose I’ll have to come with you,” Lucy said. “The opportunity to add Mr. Greenwell to our board must override my personal objections to Mrs. Greenwell and her silly daughters.”
“I’m glad to hear you are willing to compromise.” As the carriage made its final turn onto the county road, Robert glanced out of the window. “Do we have a moment to stop at the Queen’s Head on our return journey?”
Lucy looked at Aunt Rose. “I do not have anything pressing to do for the rest of the day, do you?”
“Not at all. Are you going to check to see if the last of my luggage has arrived, Robert?”
“I will certainly do that. You’re missing a hatbox, I believe?”
“Yes, dear. I left it behind in London. Genevieve promised to send it on to me.”
With some difficulty, Robert lowered the window and angled his head out to shout up at Mr. Coleman. “Stop at the inn, will you?”
“Yes, Sir Robert.”
Ten minutes later they pulled into the coaching yard, alongside a farmer’s cart laden with turnips.
“There’s no need for you to disturb yourselves,” Robert said as he exited the carriage. “I won’t be long.”
Lucy opened her mouth as if to disagree with him and then closed it again and sank back in the seat.
In truth, once he’d spoken to the landlord about Rose’s bonnets, he intended only to ask one more question, about the various comings and goings at the busy inn, and they could be on their way.
He made his way into the cramped hallway of the inn, where the owner’s much younger second wife was just descending the stairs. Her low-cut bodice displayed her bosom to great advantage and was currently hovering at Robert’s eye view. He raised his gaze to find her smiling at him.
“Major Sir Robert Kurland!” She reached the bottom step and curtsied to him, giving him yet another view of her bountiful breasts. “What an honor! What can I do for you today, sir?”
“Good afternoon, ma’am. Is Mr. Jarvis available?”
“He’s in the cellar, sir. Do you want me to go and fetch him?”
Robert considered going after the man himself but doubted his leg would hold on the rickety cellar staircase.
“Pray don’t disturb him. You might be able to help me instead.”
“I’d gladly help you with anything, sir. Anything at all.” She winked at him. “You don’t remember me, do you, sir?”
“We’ve met before?”
“Indeed, we have. To be fair, it was quite a long time ago, and in London.” She licked her lips. “You and your fellow officers came to the green room at the theater where I was a dancer.” She lifted her skirt and pointed her toe.
“I can’t say I recall—”
“No need to look so guilty, sir.” She chuckled. “You weren’t doing nothing more than ogling a few pretty girls. Not like some of your friends, who took things a lot further.”
“How interesting.” Robert took an involuntary step back and hit the newel post. “My aunt is expecting the arrival of a hatbox on the mail coach. Do you have any notion if it has arrived?”
“Indeed, it did, sir. I have it safe in my parlor and will go and fetch it for you directly.”
She went to turn away, and Robert cleared his throat. “Before you do that, there is one other thing—”
“Don’t be shy, sir.” She poked him in the ribs. “Spit it out. Peg’s heard it all before.”
He had a sense that there was some meaning behind her playful manner that was escaping him, but he persevered, anyway. “It’s quite a simple matter. Have you rented a room to any strangers this past week or seen anyone in the tavern who was alone or acting suspiciously?”
“We’ve seen a few new folks come through this week, but no one who stands out.” She pursed her lips. “Maybe you’d better ask Ed about that. I tend to spend my time in the kitchen and ordering the staff, rather than dealing with the public. Ed don’t like me showing off my charms to the clientele. He’s a jealous man, you know.” She elbowed Robert in the side. “And don’t you worry that I’ll tell him where I met you, sir. I wouldn’t want wigs on the green over poor little me.”
“Then perhaps you could ask him for me,” Robert said hastily. “I’ll send my land agent down tomorrow to speak to Mr. Jarvis himself.”
“He’s a nice-looking man for an Irishman, that Mr. Fletcher,” Mrs. Jarvis commented. “Not married yet?”
“Not that I know of.” Robert headed toward the door.
“Still pining over that Miss Anna in the rectory, like half the county, no doubt.”
Robert paused to look down at her. “Do you really think so?”
Her smile was coy. “I have a gift for sniffing out a romance, sir. Comes from my Romany blood.”
“Indeed.” He offered her a tentative smile. “Do you think you could carry
the hatbox out to my carriage?”
“Certainly, sir.” She curtsied and turned toward the parlor. “I’ll bring it right out.”
Robert took his time walking back to the carriage. The yard was busy with passing traffic, and the ground was slippery with trodden straw and muck. He spoke to Alf Smith, the head ostler, and inquired after his family. He was glad to hear that one of the grandsons was seeking a position in the Kurland stables. After confirming that there was a spot available, he persuaded Mr. Coleman to come off his box and speak to the ostler himself.
By the time he was ready to climb back into the carriage, Mrs. Jarvis was walking toward him, her hands full of a very large hatbox. He unlatched the door and held it open wide.
“Your hats, Aunt Rose.” He retrieved the box from the landlady and made sure it was placed in a secure position in the carriage. “Thank you, Mrs. Jarvis.”
“You’re most welcome, sir.” She peered into the carriage, her blond curls bobbing. “Afternoon, Lady Kurland, Mrs. Armitage!”
Lucy leaned forward. “Mrs. Jarvis. How are you settling in?”
“Very well, thank you, your ladyship.” Mrs. Jarvis curtsied. “And how are you, my lady? I hear you’ve been unwell yourself.”
Lucy’s cheeks flushed with color. “I am quite recovered, thank you. But I appreciate your concern.”
Mrs. Jarvis looked her up and down. “You still look a mite peaky to me. You need feeding up. That’s what I say.”
Robert stepped forward and took Mrs. Jarvis firmly by the elbow. “Well, thank you for your help, and please don’t forget to ask Mr. Jarvis about the recent activity at the inn.”
“I won’t forget, sir.”
She picked up her skirts, displaying far too much calf, and sashayed back toward the inn. Her hips swayed as if she were promenading on a London street to attract a particular kind of customer.
Robert got into the carriage and met Rose’s amused glance.
“Mrs. Jarvis seems somewhat out of place at a country inn,” she said.
“I understand that Mr. Jarvis met her in London, and that she once had aspirations to become an actress,” Lucy added. “She certainly seemed very . . . agreeable.”
Death Comes to the School Page 9